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“I have AA on Sundays.”
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “You could spare two hours if you wanted to.”
I squirm because it’s true. “I know you’re going through things. I was trying to give you space, but it’s been three months and this distance, not just physical but emotional, is killing me.”
I close my eyes against the painful stab of guilt and genuine remorse. “I’m a selfish shit. I’m sorry.”
She purses her lips, but her eyes soften a little. “I’m not sure if you really are.” She looks around my apartment and then grimaces. “But the state of this place sure is.”
“Did you come over just to give me shit?” I ask.
She lets out a long sigh and leans toward me with a sad smile on her face. “No, I came because I miss you. And to deliver a package from the lawyers. Since you don’t return their calls either.”
“I haven’t received any messages from them.”
She huffs. “As if you actually listen to your voicemail…” she mutters and reaches into the tote bag perched on the chair beside her. She pulls out a legal sized envelope and slides it across the table to me.
“What’s that?”
“Things your dad left you.”
My gut dips. As crazy as it sounds, but until something or someone reminds me, I forget my father is gone. The realization is like a knife in the heart. I eye the envelope with trepidation. “Okay. I’ll take a look.”
“I know you don’t want the reminders. Neither do I. But avoiding it won’t make it any better.” She covers my hand with hers, and
I turn it over and link our fingers.
“I’m not avoiding anything. I’m just trying to figure out what’s next.”
She presses her lips together again and clears her throat. Her voice is tight with controlled impatience when she speaks. “You need to wake up.”
“I am awake.”
“My ass. You’re squandering precious time you’ll never get back.”
“How am I squandering my time.”
“You’re hiding. You’ve turned down the chance of a lifetime for reasons you won’t share with anyone.”
I bristle and try to disengage our fingers, but she tightens her grip. “Your father died, but you're still here. And even though you can’t imagine it right now, one day you’ll regret every second you wasted, and it’ll be too late to do anything but be sorry.”
The fight goes out of her, and she lets go of my hand. She looks so tired, and for the first time I can remember, she also looks fragile. Even when my father died, and her grief was a palpable force that surrounded her like a shadow, she’d been as stalwart as always. I don’t want to be the straw that breaks her back.
Yes, what she said hit a nerve, but the truth hurts. I should be glad she still cares enough to tell it to me.
I walk over to her side of the table and kneel in front of her to hug her. Her arms envelop me instantly, and she hugs me so tight it hurts.
“I’ve missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to the side of my head before she disentangles herself from our embrace and looks up at me, her expression still full of worry. “How can I help you?”
“I don’t know.” I lift up to slide into the seat next to her, and she grabs my hand and links our fingers. “I’m sorry. I’ve had my head up my ass for months. But I shouldn’t have shut you out. I’m just…out of sorts here. I wish I could get away. But I don’t know where I’d go that’s far enough off the beaten path. “
Her expression clears, and a coy smile spreads across her face.
“Oh God. What?”
She grins. “Your father left you the lake house.”
“What? He did?”
