Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 178688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 893(@200wpm)___ 715(@250wpm)___ 596(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 893(@200wpm)___ 715(@250wpm)___ 596(@300wpm)
“Absolutely. I agree.” He grins, not realizing my dad knows the full story. “I’ll make sure to leave by two on Thursday so I can make it on time. If I’m gonna be a little late, I’ll text you. Never know how traffic will be.” Robert looks at the clock on the wall. “I’ve gotta go.”
He stalks to me and places a wet kiss on my forehead. I don’t react until he’s out of sight, but then I wipe it away as if it’s poison.
I’m actually grateful the next two days crawl by because it gives me time to make plans. It’s been nice not having Robert around, but I miss being home, in my bed, and seeing my mother’s paintings on the wall.
Thursday at work is uneventful and we’re slow, which gives me too much time to think about dinner tonight. I won’t be happy until the food is cooked and Robert is sitting at the table. When it comes to socializing with my friends or family, Robert tends to find a last-minute excuse to bail. If I were to do that, he’d lose his shit, but if he does it, I’m supposed to accept it and move on.
The only reason I don’t think he’ll ditch tonight is because he wants to please my father and prove how perfect he is for me. Too bad Dad already knows the truth. Regardless, my adrenaline spikes thinking about us all being in the same room in a matter of hours.
After work, I think about how much I miss Tyler. We haven’t talked about even the most trivial things like the weather, donuts, or coffee. It’s been radio silence at the garage.
Before I go to my dad’s house, I stop by the grocery store and pick up a few steaks and ingredients for loaded baked potatoes. It’s one of Dad’s favorite meals, so I thought I’d surprise him with it. I even spent some time watching a few YouTube videos so I can prepare his ribeye just the way he loves it. I’m not sure the last time Dad has had a proper sit-down dinner at home. We eat breakfast together a few Saturdays a month, but nothing fancy.
As soon as I knock on the front door, Dad opens it wearing a big cheesy grin. I noticed he had enough time to shower after work and even changed clothes for the occasion.
“You’re wearing a polo?” I ask, not used to seeing him in a shirt with a collar. It’s bright blue and looks good on him, but it’s different, considering I see him in his uniform ninety percent of the time.
“You know how judgey Robert is.” He releases a sigh. My heart begins to race when he mentions his name. He’s on both of our shit lists right now. I bite my tongue and continue inside, trying to gather my courage. As soon as Robert arrives, I’ll be forced to put on a show of a lifetime.
Dad helps me unload everything, then I pull out a skillet, the butter, and the seasoning. I even grabbed a loaf of garlic bread too. As I turn on the flame, I take a deep breath and follow the directions I found online. Once the potatoes are wrapped in foil and roasting in the oven, I place the steaks in the skillet. The kitchen quickly fills with the delicious smells of spices, and my stomach grumbles even though I have no appetite. My nerves have replaced my need to eat.
Before the food is ready, the doorbell rings, and Dad quickly answers it. Hearing Robert’s voice makes me anxious, and I try to push down all of my thoughts, not giving them the opportunity to swallow me whole. I refuse to wear that stupid look I used to have when I’d see him. I’m sure Robert had hoped I’d stay under his spell much longer.
Robert comes in and kisses me on my cheek. He makes sure to tell me how lovely I look and how great the food looks and smells before he sits next to my father at the table. Dad gives me a look, but Robert doesn’t notice. They shoot the shit, talking about the garage, and Robert mentions his new client. I make our drinks and set them down on the table. He vocalizes how much he appreciates and loves me. Actor Robert is great. The real-life one is a nightmare.
I place the steaks, potatoes with all the fixings, and garlic bread on the table, then serve everyone. The conversation is light and pleasant, even if it’s fake and awkward as hell.
“So how did the meeting go?” I ask, wanting to fill the time with something other than silence.
“I have a verbal agreement on a contract for an eight-figure deal,” he nearly screams with excitement. I haven’t seen him this giddy…ever.