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My phone buzzes from inside my purse. The ringtone tells me exactly who it is. “Oh my God, my dad is going to lose his mind.”
“You never told him.” It’s not a question. The anger is gone from Kingston’s voice. Now he just sounds flat.
I shake my head and press the heels of my hands against my eyes, as if that’s going to keep the tears at bay. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to. I thought it was done and over with and I wouldn’t have to deal with it or Corey again. As soon as I signed the papers and gave him my share of the money, I went home. I quit right in the middle of the semester.”
And I moved right back in with my dad. He’d started dating someone while I was away, but as soon as I came home, he ended it. I enrolled in courses in the winter semester at a local college, and he never once gave me a hard time about the money he’d spent and lost on that semester. Or the other programs I later didn’t finish either.
“Do you want to answer your phone?” King asks.
“No.”
“Let me rephrase that—should you answer your phone?”
“Yes, but I can’t have this conversation over the phone.” I tip my head back. All I want to do is run away from this problem. Like I did when it happened in the first place. Back home. I’ve been doing that for the past six years. “He’s going to be so disappointed.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I made a stupid mistake, and now I’m all over social media. It’s a PR nightmare for him.”
“He’ll know how to deal with it.”
“But he shouldn’t have to deal with it. He shouldn’t have to deal with me. I should have my own place and a regular job. He bought that house specifically because it had a place for me if I needed it. And the pool isn’t for him; it’s for me. It’s like he knows I’m going to keep fucking my life up. Why can’t I get my shit together and keep it together for once?” I bang my head on the back of the seat. “I should’ve known something like this would happen. Everything was too good to last.”
My phone rings again.
“I’ll take you to your dad’s.” Kingston starts his car and pulls out of the parking lot.
The rest of the trip is silent apart from my occasional sniffles.
He pulls into the driveway and shifts into park.
“Thank you for bringing me home. I’m sorry about . . . this whole thing. You really don’t need my stupid drama.”
“I can handle drama, Queenie. My sister is my mom, remember?”
“It wasn’t your choice to have that secret kept from you, though. And it wasn’t a mistake you made. It was someone else’s. This one is on me.” I sigh, my stomach flipping as the front door opens and my dad’s silhouette fills it.
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
“That’s kind of you, but I need to talk to my dad on my own. He’s probably going to be angry that I kept this from him, and I don’t think you’ll be an impartial mediator.”
“Okay.” He nods once.
I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for the door handle.
“Hey.” Kingston’s warm, rough fingers wrap around mine, and he squeezes. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”
“Okay. I should go.” He doesn’t make a move to kiss me, and neither do I. I’m not sure how much he’s placating me because he feels sorry for me and how much he really means it. I can’t say that I would blame him if he decided I’m too much for him.
It’s usually why my relationships end.CHAPTER 23
DAD DISAPPOINTMENT
Queenie
My dad steps aside to let me into the house. I feel like a teenager who’s been caught drinking. Except I got married instead. Which is infinitely worse. It would probably be better if I got caught robbing a bank than the situation I currently find myself in.
“I think you have some explaining to do.” He closes the door, cutting off the view of Kingston’s car, which is still idling outside the house. I watch through the window as he pulls away from the curb, and I feel like my heart’s been run over.
And it’s all my fault.
If I’d stayed and made sure Corey paid the fees, I wouldn’t be here now, in this horrible situation. But I didn’t make sure everything was taken care of, because I wanted to run away from my problem and never think about it again. And now I have to face the consequences, which are a hell of a lot steeper than $150.
“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say. And I mean it. Wholly. Truly.
I’m sorry for so many things.
