Blame it on the Vodka (Blame it on the Alcohol)

Dad turned when we walked into the office, clutching a glass of amber liquid. He scanned me from head to toe like he always did when I walked in. To make sure I was okay, he would tell me. I’m just waiting for the day you come to me with a broken bone or missing limb.

I waited for the usual nod of approval, but it never came. Instead, he studied me like my mom had. His pale blue eyes dulled with the dark shadows. His short blond hair stood up in odd places from roughly running his hands through it. If I hadn’t known how bad it was before, I knew now. You could tell the level of stress Dad faced based on the amount of disarray his hair was in, and right now, it looked like a patchy spike design.

“If you want to day-drink, all you have to do is ask. You know I’m always up for it,” I joked, desperate to lighten the mood.

The man who always had a smile for me since I was a little girl didn’t laugh. His eyes slid closed before he jumped right in. “I’ve always been lenient with you, Raelynn. But this? Of all the times?”

Ooookay. Apparently, we were skipping the niceties. Well, as much as I screwed up, he had some explaining to do, too. “Well, you didn’t make it any better when you had your secretary pick me up and pretend the marriage was real.”

His head snapped back to me so hard I worried he’d have whiplash. “It’s not real?” he shouted.

“No. I told you, I never wanted to get married.”

His jaw hung open in disbelief. I stood there, trying to hold my chin high while he struggled to rearrange the situation in his mind.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

And there went his hand again, tugging at the already frayed ends of his hair.

“You would have known that if you had waited to talk to me instead of making your own plan.”

“You didn’t pick up your phone. What was I supposed to do?”

“Ignore it.”

“Ha.” He barked a laugh. “That’s a little hard to do when you get married in Vegas. As if you aren’t being watched closer than ever right now, you were in Vegas with Nova and Parker. There was no way you wouldn’t get noticed. Add in social media, and ignoring it was the furthest thing from a possibility as I could get,” he bit out, losing his patience.

He shook his head, looking away before downing the rest of his drink in one swallow.

For the first time in the twelve years since Dad adopted me after marrying Mom, his disappointment weighed on me. Like a spotlight burning down in front of a mirror I couldn’t escape, reality sank in. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

I was disappointed in myself.

I messed up. The people who never got mad at me were pissed. There was no denying that I truly fucked up in a big way. Not with my drunken antics or bold personality that the media loved, but in a way that hurt the people around me.

“What about Bodie?” my mom asked.

I cringed, just his name like nails on a chalkboard. “We broke up.”

“What? When?”

“The day I left. So, yesterday.”

“Are things okay?” she asked so sincerely, it caught me off guard, causing the mask I always wore when talking about Bodie to slip. Her eyes narrowed at whatever mine revealed, and I quickly snapped the blank layer back in place. If I thought Dad was disappointed in me over the wedding, it wouldn’t come close to how devastated my mom would be if she knew how long I’d stayed with Bodie after his first abuse.

“Yeah. It was time,” I answered neutrally.

I realized my mistake when her eyes narrowed more. I wasn’t neutral about anything. I was decisive and bold with my choices. I made them with passion, never with the shrug of a shoulder like I did then.

Deciding my dad felt like a safer option than my mom’s scrutinizing stare, I addressed him. “Listen, Dad. I’ll explain to the press, and we’ll get it annulled. Your campaign pushes to remove the double standard, and men recover from things like this all the time—a woman can too.”

He shook his head before I even finished pleading my case. “Rae, I’m already getting calls from investors and sponsors asking me if I’m the kind of man to support cheating. My campaign also focuses on loyalty and commitment. You had dinner with Bodie a few days ago, and now you’re married to Austin,” he explained. “This isn’t as simple as explaining it away. Not right now.”

Those last three words hung like a guillotine—ominous and my final downfall. “What do you mean, not right now?”

“You know I love every crazy antic you get up to. I support you to be independent and push the norms. I love that you are a bold woman, exemplifying to other women and younger girls that there is nothing wrong with forging your own path.”