Ready or Not (Ready #4)(53)

This phone call was everything I’d ever hoped for. Hearing his voice, those words, was exactly what I’d been thinking of since the moment I realized how lonely and scary a world without my parents could be. While living a life of privilege, I’d dreamed of being on my own and fending for myself. I’d had aspirations that didn’t include the chosen path my parents had set forth. But sometimes, looking at the world through the rose-colored glasses of a charmed life didn’t give an accurate description of what the real world would actually be like.

I’d spent months adjusting and acclimating myself to what others would describe as a normal existence. I’d never been grocery shopping or done my own laundry, and I most certainly had never lived on my own. By the end of the first month, crying myself to sleep had become routine. There had even been a low period when I considered crawling back home and begging for forgiveness.

But I’d slowly realized that I was doing it—living the life I’d always wanted. It might not have been perfection, but it was mine. The student loans, shoestring budget, and years of barely making it—it was all mine. And wasn’t that what growing up was all about?

It just would have been nice for my parents to see what I’d accomplished all on my own.

I guessed now was my chance.

~Jackson~

Turning the faucet off, I stood in the shower and let the water drip slowly from my body. Silence echoed through the room as I reached for the towel I’d slung over the side.

Had she called him back already? Or was she still staring at that phone?

Leaving her like that had been difficult. I’d had to physically fight myself on it.

But I had begun to learn the many sides of Liv, and her need for independence was one of them. She was courageous, fierce, and strong-willed. The last thing she needed was a clingy, overly dominant partner who barked orders and made her feel inferior. I wanted us to be equals, and that meant giving her the space she needed even when I wanted to do the opposite.

Drying off quickly, I wrapped the towel around my waist and ran my hands through my unruly tawny brown hair, not bothering to brush it. It tended to do its own thing when it got too long, and I was desperately in need of a haircut.

I stepped back into the bedroom and found Liv in the same position I’d left her in. The blankets were pulled up to her chin, and she was curled into a tight ball in the center of the bed. She looked small and fragile, such a contrast to her usual self.

“They want to have dinner with me,” she simply stated, her eyes still trained on the ceiling.

I stepped forward and joined her, sitting on the side of the bed. “Did they say why?”

“Olive branch.”

“What?” I asked in confusion.

“They’re offering an olive branch. I guess they want to start over,” she said with a shrug, her gaze finally meeting mine.

“What are you going to do?” I asked hesitantly.

“I think I’m going to call them back and say yes,” she answered.

“Are you sure?”

Her eyes rounded slightly, and she sat up, snugly pulling the sheet around her body. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Liv.”

“I won’t,” she said adamantly.

“You’re already hurting. You have been for eight years. I wouldn’t be able to stand to see them drive that sword in further.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. Standing now, she began to pace across the floor. “It’s not your decision,” she snapped.

“Sweetheart,” I said softly, moving to stand behind her. I kissed her left shoulder, just over the spot where the bright orange floral design started. “I will support whatever decision you make. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I just want you to be cautious, that’s all. He’s running for president. Try to lead with your head, not your heart, okay?”

She leaned back into me, and I felt her body relax.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Now, where are we going to dinner?” I asked.

She turned around, a surprised and amused expression on her face. “We?”

“Well, yeah. I think your old man should meet your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? I don’t remember ever calling you that.” She smiled.

“Well, the next-door neighbor you like to f*ck is a mouthful—literally—so I paraphrased.”

Her mouth dropped before laughter filled the air. I pulled her into my arms and softly kissed her lips.

“He’ll recognize you,” she warned, stating the obvious.

“Yes,” I answered. “It will be fine. Olive branch, remember?”

“I guess I have a phone call to make,” she said, nodding.

I agreed and followed her back to the bed as she picked up her cell phone and dialed her father’s number. A few seconds later, I heard her name being said quietly on the other end.

“Hi, Dad,” she replied. Her breathing was deep and slow as if she intentionally had to do so. “Look,” she replied, apparently cutting him off, “we can catch up soon. I just wanted to call and say yes to dinner. Anytime this week is fine.” She looked up at me for confirmation, and I nodded. “Text me the location, and make the reservation for four. I’m bringing someone.”