Page 120 of Robbin’ the Rich

When I was about halfway to the parking lot, Caleb pulled me into a storage room.

“What the —?”

“What the fuck are you doing? You don’t know how to hack a computer. You don’t have to cover for me.”

“I’m not covering for you.”

“Yes, you are. I’ll be fine Micah. I don’t need you to do this. I told you after Christmas I would fix it.”

“This isn’t about you Caleb.”

That stopped him, he pulled back and looked at me. “It’s not?”

“No. It’s not.”

I turned to leave, but he pulled me back. “Then what the fuck was that. Not only do you not know how to do that, but you never would have. What is going on?”

“It’s none of your concern. I gotta go pretend this family isn’t thoroughly fucked up as we all smile and talk about the church’s bottom line.”

I turned and made my way out of the storeroom. Luckily the valet already had my car pulled up and I got in.

I just started driving. I knew eventually I would have to go to my parent’s house. I knew it was where I would be every Sunday from here on out, but at least Robin would be safe.

The thought of her still made my heart ache. I’d been so close to being with someone I truly loved. Happiness was right at my fingertips until I fucked it all up.

This was what I deserved.

27

ROBIN

It was Christmas Eve at my parent’s house, and I still couldn’t muster any holiday cheer. Unlike Thanksgiving, my uncle’s family was able to make it, which helped. That way I could just sit here in silence and eat my lasagna just like I did every Christmas Eve, even if this one felt utterly empty.

“Oh, Bill. I forgot to tell you. We had some excitement here last week,” my dad said.

“Oh, we did!”

“Let me tell them Susan, I so rarely have tales of such intrigue.”

Even in my desolation, my parents still made me smile. They’re the only reason I never gave up on love. They are two of the most normal people I’ve ever met, but also so annoyingly in love with each other.

I shoveled another bite of lasagna into my mouth as my father settled in to tell a good story. All the signs were there that they were in for a good one, from the way he settled in to making sure he had everyone’s full attention.

“So Tuesday–”

“No it was Wednesday," my mom corrected.

“Right, Wednesday–”

“I remember it was Wednesday because Jeopardy was on and I was making roasted chicken for dinner.”

“Can I just get on with it?” my father jokingly snapped at her.

She pantomimed zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key.

“Thank you. So, Wednesday there was a knock at the door, and wouldn’t you know when I answered the door there were two police officers standing there.”

My fork clattered to my plate. Everyone turned to look at me, but I just picked up my fork and kept eating.