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“That he was just a man she played house with once.” He says her one-liner before I can. “I’m aware.” He takes a step forward. “You look so much like him.”
I back up until I hit the Mustang. “You knew my dad?”
“I did.” His quiet words blur the space inside my head.
Davidknewmy dad.
Davidisn’tmy dad.
For one insane moment, I feel the high of having a father and the crash of losing one. “Did she leave him for you?”
“It wasn’t like that.” His eyes shutter, as if for a second he’s gone somewhere else.
“Whatwasit like?” I squeeze my keys so hard I expect to see blood dripping from my fist. “You bought a damn house together. You were in love with her.” Had to be. Hell, maybe still is.
“I was Meredith’s lawyer.”
“You’re not a divorce lawyer.” There’s nothing funny about my stilted laugh.
“They were never married.” He scrubs at the lines on his forehead as if he’s erasing memories.
“Just own the truth.” I push off the car and get in his face. “That’s what you preach to me, isn’t it?”
Expectation rises in the space between us. An empty, expanding void, waiting for the words he needs to say. The longer he holds back, the hungrier it grows.
“Forget it.” I retreat to my car, slide into the seat, slam the door.
David leans in the open window, his eyes sad, his sigh resigned. “This is not the way I wanted this conversation to go.”
“This is not the way I wanted my life to go.” I start the car. Settle into the rumble shaking my seat.
“I’m sorry.” He pats the roof, his low voice almost lost in the growl of the engine.
I jam the clutch, shift into gear, and tear down the driveway.
chapter 11
Jess
Allie told me I need to stay and watch football practice with her if I’m serious about T. The cheerleaders all flirt with him. Does he like one of them? Someone who’s a senior or prettier or skinnier? I feel invisible next to them. Homecoming is only two weeks away. I really want him to ask me.
~ from the diary of Elizabeth Sara Thorne (age16)
I spent my morning rereading Mom and Dad’s story. Some parts of the diary I like better thanHaunted, and some parts ofHauntedI like better than the diary. Where Mom only mentions cheerleaders going after Dad, I spent days turning abstract, faceless girls into a person I named Lydia. Giving Sara concrete competition for Dante upped their tension and made me root for them harder.
By lunch, I’d moved on to torturing myself by creating and deleting loglines and blurbs for a story I don’t have. Now it’s afternoon, and I’ve been ducking in and out of workshops practicing my incognito.
Without Gabriel Wade leaking his celebrity all over me, I’m back to being invisible—until Donna takes the seat next to me in a seminar titledPrinces in Contemporary Romance. “Is no one paying attention to what you’re doing?”
Not sure how to handle the open disgust in her stare, I turn toward the aisle. The stares of the ladies across from me match Donna’s. Has everyone seen those kiss pics?
The lights dim.
The PowerPoint pops on.
And my eyes snap open, Alaska wide.
It takes a stretched-out second for my brain to translate the raunchy visual, send the message to my feet, and propel me across Donna’s lap and out of the aisle.
