Page 63 of In Your Wake

She looks away, but then her gaze lands on me, and something passes between us. It’s quick, but feels alive. And dangerous.

I know what I should say. What’s fighting to be freed behind my closed lips. But as I told myself day one, I won’t be the one to make the first move.

Right on cue, Bill succumbs to a coughing fit. Rough, ugly sounds fill the backyard. When he catches his breath, his voice is quieter, but still carries the confidence that even lung cancer can’t steal. “Find the words. Apologize. Say what you need to say before it’s too late.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. This is all too much. I shake my head and stand up abruptly, the chair scraping back. “I’m done with this.”

Dad reaches out for my hand and somehow grabs it. I could easily pull mine free, his grip is so weak, but I let him hold it. “Apologize when you’re wrong, Mitch. Ask for forgiveness.”

“Like I said—”

“And even if you think they don’t want to hear it,” he goes on, locking his eyes on mine, “make them listen.”

I draw my hand back. My chest is tight. Too tight.

Over my shoulder I glance at Maxine who seems to be looking right through me as if I’m not even there. For a moment, I consider speaking my truth. Just saying something.

Anything.

But when she finally drags her eyes up to meet mine, I see the silent plea for me to keep my mouth shut. To not push this any further.

“We’re fine,” she insists, jutting her chin.

My dad’s right—we are fucking cowards.

I let out a quiet, humorless breath. “Yeah. We’re totally fine.”

Bill looks between us, deep sadness darkening his face. “You two are the worst liars I’ve ever met,” he murmurs.

Maxine turns around and leaves, not bothering to look at me again. And I’m glad she didn’t, because if she looked at me any longer with that deep sadness in her eyes, I’m not sure I could keep pretending.

And right now, pretending is the only thing holding me together.

Max

By the time Bradford Bradshaw pours the third round of wine, I know I won’t be leaving this dinner unscathed.

The Bradshaws have this way about them. They smile too tightly and force unnatural laughs that are way too polished. Everything within their mansion by the sea matches their personalities—fake, fake, fake. Oh, and rich. Very rich.

Going into my relationship with Tucker, I knew this about his family. That he came from money, absurd amounts of it. Just like I knew his stepmom is younger than he is. But after some time together, I saw he wasn’t like them. Or at least, I convinced myself he wasn’t.

My track record with men hasn’t been the best. They say girls wind up with men who are like their fathers. Well, in my case, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

My dad, Vince, is an angel. Kind, generous, hilarious; he’s a lot like Hunter. Which makes what Mom did to him even worse. Not that cheating on your husband is ever a good thing. But the fact that she did it to a man like my dad? Yeah, that makes her an even bigger bitch. And that’s why I can only handle seeing her every two weeks when I schlep out to Hallstead for dinners with her, Hunter and my sister, Tina—another bitch, but for entirely different reasons.

And yet, even raised with two uncommonly good men like Dad and Hunter, I still ended up with my fair share of assholes.

First there was Jack, in my senior year of high school. A world-class bastard who not only took my virginity, but then dumped me the very next day.

After that, there was Brody, Chase, and Isaiah—in that order—all equally douchey and mean. The only thing they helped me see was that I enjoyed sex more than I ever thought I would, especially after the lackluster performance Jack introduced me to.

Years of shitty relationships finally took their toll. So, when Tucker came up to me one night, I took one look at his clean-cut appearance, noticed the whiter-than-white smile that matched his shirt, and figured he’d be good for me.

And since then, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I wasn’t wrong.

When we talk, I feel his genuine intelligence and interest in me. When he laughs, it doesn’t make me want to cringe. There’s some sincerity in it.

That is unless we’re having dinner with his family, when he turns into a fucking dick-wad.