Payback's A Bitch (Awkward Love 6)

“I'm not sure that's a good idea,” I finally say.

“What do you have against this wedding?” he asks, frustrated. “Is it Paula?”

“No, of course not,” I sigh. “I'm glad that you’re marrying her. I like Paula.”

“Then what is it?”

“Just forget it. Please,” I urge him.

“No.” he gives me a hard stare. “I can’t, and I won’t. Is it that I moved on too soon?” he asks.

“No…yes,” I say. I keep my voice flat. “You knew Mack and I were still struggling, but you didn’t care.”

He shakes his head. “Your mother and I separated a long time before she got sick,” he reminds me. “I know you and Mack thought we might get back together, but there was never any chance of that happening. It thought you’d accepted that. But then your mood and behavior changed again, once we set the wedding date.”

“Just let it go,” I insist.

He sighs and looks at his watch. “I have a meeting to go to,” he murmurs. “Can we continue this later? We can sit down and talk about this properly over a drink. I’ll come over tonight, okay?”

“Sure,” I say, my tone flat. “Whatever.”

“Good. I’ll see you then,” he says, then he marches over to the door and walks out.I should have known he’d cancel.

It’s what he does best, after all. How many times have I dropped everything, for him to cancel on me? Half the time he can’t even call or text me to let me know. I read through his message again, then I walk over to the couch, falling face down onto the cushions. No sooner than I do, the doorbell rings.

Maybe he could make it after all.

When I open the door and find Darcy, I feel a twinge of disappointment. God, it kills me that I feel that way, but I can’t help it. She looks closely at me as she follows me inside.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I shrug. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem it,” she says.

She follows me into the living room and stands there as I sit down.

“I get so frustrated with him,” I grumble.

“Your dad?” she guesses.

I nod. “We were supposed to catch up tonight. His idea, I might add. He wanted to get everything out on the table.” I laugh bitterly. “But he couldn't even show up for that. And it was the same with dinner last week and every other time he’s made plans with me. He made this big deal about dinner last week, how I had to go to, but then he couldn't even sort his shit out to go to it himself? What kind of message is that sending?”

“What's going on with you and him?” she asks. “You’re really against this wedding, aren’t you?” she adds.

I shake my head. “It’s nothing to do with your mom. I think she’s great.”

“So then, what is it?” she asks.

She reaches for my hand. I let her take it, loving the feel of her fingers entwining in mine.

“It’s a long story,” I warn her.

She smiles. “I’ve got time.”

I sigh, trying to get my thoughts together to express what I’m feeling.

“Dad started dating so quickly after Mom was gone. I know they were divorced and that his feelings for her were different than they were when they were married, but I can’t shake the anger I feel toward him over that,” I mutter.

Even saying it aloud, I can see how silly it is, but I can’t help it. It’s how I feel.

“Mack and I were still trying to cope and he’s out seeing all these women...”

“That must have been hard for you,” she sympathizes. “I don’t think it’s irrational at all. You associate your parents as being in love. I don’t blame you for not wanting much to do with this wedding.”

“It’s not even that,” I say as she sits down next to me. “The date of the wedding is the same day Mom was told her cancer was terminal.”

“Shit.” She frowns at me. “And your Dad didn’t realize?”

“I guess he had a lot on his mind.” I frown. “They’re getting married exactly three years to the day that she found out. Maybe I'm being too sensitive or something.”

“Don’t dismiss it like that,” she says. “You feel the way you feel. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

“Maybe if you speak with your dad—”

“No,” I say, frowning at her. “I don’t want to ruin their day anymore that I already am.” I nod at the bag she brought with her, keen to change the subject. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she murmurs, her cheeks going red. “I just bought you some dresses that I don't really wear anymore. I thought you might want to experiment with them,” she says. “Only if you want them, though,” she hurries to add.

I shrug. “Thanks. I’m sure they’re great.”

“You can try them on now if you want?” she suggests. “Do a little fashion show for me. It might cheer you up?”