I grumble incoherently, having only had four hours of sleep after Reid dropped me off. He wanted to walk me to the door, but I asked him not to because it too closely recalled our final farewell – or so we thought – before my volunteer mission to Ecuador. Before Deb’s accident. Before I lost myself, dragged under by the implicit loss of my sister and my faith. I didn’t even begin to resurface until Reid found me.
We kissed goodbye in his car for half an hour before I could make myself go inside. I waved once before slipping inside the darkened house, and as soon as I shut the door, silent tears began skating down my face. Treading carefully up the staircase – the last thing I needed was for Mom to get a look at my dejected expression – I chided myself for being ridiculous. I would see him again in a week or two. Three at most.
Dad settles on the edge of my bed now and sips his coffee while I sit up and reach for mine.
‘Ready for a long, boring day on the road, followed by a million trips from a pint-sized rental truck to your new dorm room?’
‘Ugh. Dad, sometimes your propensity to tell the absolute truth is less welcome than other times.’
He chuckles. ‘You’ll find out soon enough, once we get on the 5. Hours and hours of the opposite of a scenic thoroughfare. Although you’re in luck – you’ll be treated to my witty company the whole way! If you’re truly fortunate, I’ll bounce my Sunday sermon ideas off you. I’m dithering between either the trials of Job or Hannah’s unceasing plea to God for a son.’
I crack an eye open. ‘Gosh, Dad. Gloomy much?’
He shrugs and says, ‘They both came to good in the end.’
‘Sure, after lifetimes of suffering and praying for favours that were unobtainable without a miracle.’ Without waiting for his response, I shift the subject to the one we’re avoiding. ‘So … Mom is driving the car, and I’m riding in the truck with you? She’s still that angry at me about Reid?’
He stares into his mug. ‘She’s not angry, Dori. She’s concerned.’
‘When I’m concerned about someone, I don’t stop talking to them,’ I counter.
He nods without replying, and I see that he agrees with me in this, at least. Giving up on me, even if he believes I’m making rotten choices, isn’t an option. I won’t push him further, though, because my parents seldom disagree, and I don’t want to be the cause of an argument between them. I just want to live my own life. Mom will either change her mind or she won’t. If anyone can change it, it’s my father.
REID
Me: Call me when you’re ready to tell me your news. Headed to an appointment with George.
Brooke: Give me 10 minutes.
Brooke wastes no time on pleasantries when I answer – not that we’ve actually been pleasant with each other even once in the past five years. ‘I saw the attorney yesterday.’
Ridiculously, I thought I’d braced myself well enough for this conversation. Wrong.
‘You’ve retained an attorney already? Jesus, Brooke, what are you doing?’
‘I’m applying to adopt him.’
I nearly rear-end the tiny classic convertible in front of me, the Ferrari’s brakes squealing and catching at the last possible second and whipping me forward in my seat. The driver turns and shoots me the finger. I grip the wheel with both hands to keep from shooting it back.
Whatever cracked idea I expected Brooke to disclose this morning, whatever I imagined her finding in Austin, whatever absurd course of action I dreaded she might try to take – this is miles beyond it.
‘Oh, my God, Brooke – why? You can’t be a mother to this kid –’
‘Why the hell not?’ she retorts. ‘I’m financially sound. I can provide whatever he needs. And by the way I am his mother.’
She’s lost her mind, though implying that probably won’t do any good.
Logic? Worth a shot. ‘Kids need more than a biological connection and money – they need attention. Two parents, preferably. A family. They need someone to be there full time.’
‘Oh, please – attention? A family – like you or I got? I have more parents than I can shake a stick at, and most of them sucked. And your parents were so clueless they let you nearly kill yourself on multiple occasions.’
She has good points, dammit, though I prefer throwing my dad under the bus to blaming Mom. She’s been quietly disappearing nearly every afternoon for about an hour and a half, and I haven’t seen her drink a drop in almost two months. I suspect she’s attending the AA meetings Dori suggested, but I haven’t asked and don’t plan to.
‘You’re right – they pretty much across-the-board sucked ass as parents. And yet you think you’ll do a better job than any of them? At your age? By yourself? And with your proclivity for partying and screwing around?’
‘God-fucking-dammit, Reid – you have no right to preach at me about screwing around –’
‘Not to mention your language – and before you try to turn that around, remember that I’m not saying I want to raise a kid. And I don’t give a shit who you sleep with, otherwise –’
‘I party to keep from being bored – or haven’t you ever done that?’ She knows damned well I’ve done exactly that. ‘We’re single, young celebrities. Partying is expected. It’s practically an unspoken part of my PR strategy. I’ve never given an actual shit about doing it – I’m more than happy to ditch it. My public relations machine will just have to switch gears. And by the way – my sex life, not that it’s any of your business, is heavily fabricated. I’m more particular than the media portrays me to be.’