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“I don’t?—”
“Problem is, you love her, too, and you are unwilling to get your head out of your ass and do what needs to be done.”
“Which is?” I narrowed my eyes, gripping the edges of the shower.
Oliver crossed one leg over the other, cupping his knee. “Cancel that sham wedding, to start with. You know I hate bad investments. I’m not sending a check or buying a registry gift only to watch you get divorced faster than Britney Spears and Jason Alexander.”
“TheSeinfeldguy?”
“One would think, but no. A different one.” Ollie stood, trekking toward my robe.
He retrieved it from the floor and flung it toward me.
I collapsed on the shower bed, done resisting. “I canceled the wedding.”
“And yet, I received the Save the Date yesterday.”
“And I’m hunting down Eileen.”
“We both know who your best bet at finding her is.”
“Mom would never spill the beans.”
“Hmm… I wonder whatotherwoman practically lives at your side.” He reclaimed his seat on the heated lounger, kicking one leg over the other. “Some would call her a second mother.”
“Celeste Ayi—” I paused, wondering how I hadn’t thought of it.
For years, I’d gotten so used to assuming she knew nothing about anything important that it hadn’t even occurred to me that she had eyes, ears, and the inability to keep a secret when pressed.
Oliver tsked at the sight of me darting out of the shower and shrugging into the robe. “Eileen should’ve never happened. Having everything with someone who means nothing to you takes the sting out of the accomplishment. If only you?—”
He’d have to finish his monologue before his audience of submissives.
I had one chaotic aunt to track down.
T-MINUS 4 DAYS.
“Do you think he’ll come in four days, guys?”
I sat before the men in my life, perched on the grass beside Dad’s grave. Vezzali sprawled beside me, his head on my knee, even as it raised half his little body into the air.
“I mean, realistically, it’s only thirty days. I’ve drunk cheap wine that took longer to make.”
I popped open a box of flashcards onto my lap, fishing in my backpack for a pen.
“Oops. I don’t mean to give you a bad impression of him, Dad. Zach is great. Rough around the edges, a littleodd, but that’s what I like most about him.”
Stop putting this off, Farrow.
I sighed.
Sure, I wanted to talk to Dad about Zach, but mostly, it was an excuse to avoid the real conversation we needed to have.
“I guess it’s time to get serious.”
I brought my knees to my chin, setting Vezzali onto my discarded jacket.
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited you. I have a lot to say, and every word of it scares me.”
