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“Yet.” Vanna winks.
Scowling, I steal the last pickle in the dish. “Finish your sub. We need to get back. Our lunch hour is almost up.”
“Afraid Leland might call you into his office?”
Hot blood rushes to my face and I refuse to comment further and fuel my friend’s fun at my expense.
The rest of the day goes smoothly except for the purred, “Have fun,” Vanna gives me as we walk out to our cars after work at four.
I stick out my tongue and slide into my car. I’m acting like it’s no big deal but on the inside I’m so nervous my stomach feels like it’s tied up in knots.
Leland gave me his home address before we left the conference room this morning and it’s only fifteen minutes away from my place. Which leaves me plenty of time to go home, shower, change, and stress before I head over to his house for a six pm arrival time.
I’m stepping into the shower when my phone starts going crazy. Tensing up, a bolt of despair blasts through me, instantly ruining the bit of excitement that’s been warring with anxiety over seeing Leland tonight.
No.
Just no. I can’t deal with my mother tonight.
I step into the shower.
CHAPTER FIVE
BLAIRE
Putting it off as long as I can, I have no choice but to grab my phone before leaving. I see a total of five missed calls and three texts. All from my dad.
I let my bag drop on the floor as I call him back.
“Blaire, why haven’t you been answering? Where the hell are you? We have a situation with your mother.”
Of course we do. When isn’t there a situation with her?
“Look, Dad, I’m just about to head out the door. Is this something you can handle?” I hate how whiny and bitchy my voice sounds. This is my mother; I shouldn’t be like this.
It’s just… I want a life. I’m tired of having to drop everything to go cater to her and follow behind her like a weary mother cleaning up her toddler’s spills.
I’m not the mother here, she is. Why can’t I be selfish for once and go and have fun?
Dad’s silence speaks volumes, and I slump down on the chair in the entranceway. “What do you need me to do?” I ask, cursing the burning in my eyes as tears well up.
“She’s at the airport. Her phone dinged me her location, and she’s already been kicked out of the lounge.”
Good.I think spitefully and then pinch my arm for such a horrible thought.
“Blaire, you still there, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, Dad, I am. Do you want me to drive there and bring her back?”
“I was actually hoping you could pack a bag and go with her. She’s heading to Miami.”
Shock has me reeling back, and it’s a good thing I’m already sitting, or I would have fallen on my butt. “Dad! I have a job! I can’t just drop everything and go jetting off because she’s gotten it into her head that she wants to go steal stuff in Miami.”
“Blaire Frances Dennis!”
Even at twenty-four, hearing my dad say my full name in his strictest parent voice has me cringing and mumbling apologies.
I’m full-on crying now and want to go curl up in bed, pull the covers over my head, and hide away for a week.
