A Midsummer's Nightmare(23)
“She doesn’t need a babysitter,” I told him.
“She’s thirteen. She’s too young to go to a party without someone watching out for her.”
“Then I’ll keep an eye on her,” I said, hoping to talk him out of actually coming to the party. I won’t lie—part of me worried that if I got too drunk, I’d try to sleep with him again. Being at the same party with Nathan Caulfield just seemed like a recipe for disaster.
“All right,” he said. “But I’m still coming.”
I groaned. “Why?”
“I’ll stay out of your hair. And I’ll be the designated driver. I’d just feel better if I was there.”
I wouldn’t, I thought. But I knew there was no arguing with him. At least it would make Harrison happy. “Whatever.”
“All right. Do you have an address for the place?”
“Yeah.” I pulled the folded paper out of my pocket, the one I’d jotted Harrison’s directions on, and tossed it to Nathan. “I want to be there by nine, okay?”
“You’re the one who takes five years to get ready, remember?”
“Shut up.”
I turned and started to walk out the door, but Nathan said, “Whit?”
“Whitley. And what?”
“Do me a favor. If Mom asks, we’re going to see that sci-fi movie and doing late-night bowling afterward.” He looked at me seriously. “Don’t tell her about the party.”
“Fine by me.”
I made a point of getting up early Saturday morning (as in, before noon) so I could see Dad before he left for the commencement ceremony. It didn’t seem like we’d talked much at all that week. When he wasn’t at work, he was busy hanging paintings or putting away some of the things still left in boxes from the move, or else he was glued to his laptop. The only times he wasn’t busy were during dinner or when he sat down to watch ESPN with Nathan, neither of which were great opportunities to have a one-on-one conversation.
But Saturday morning, while Sylvia and Sherri went to do some wedding shopping and Nathan and Bailey were still asleep, I went downstairs to join Dad for breakfast.
“Hey, munchkin,” he said when I walked into the dining room in my pajamas. “You’re up shockingly early.”
“Yeah.” I walked through the archway into the kitchen, heading for the cabinet with the cereal bowls. “I thought maybe we could catch up before you left. We haven’t really had a chance to talk much. How’s work going?”
“Pretty well,” he said, loudly so I could hear him. I poured some cereal and joined him at the dining table. “They offered me a job on the evening news a couple weeks ago because one of the anchors is moving to Dallas. The bosses think I’d up the ratings in that slot.”
“Cool. Will you take it?”
“No.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I like my schedule the way it is now. I get home around noon and Sylvia gets home at five. If I did the evening news, I’d be leaving right before she got home and getting in late. I’d never see her or the kids.”
“Right,” I said.
It was stupid to feel jealous. I knew that. I just wished I could see Dad every afternoon the way they would, instead of just a few months a year.
“What about you?” he asked. “Excited about college?”
“A little. Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’ve been thinking about what I should major in, and I was wondering if you could—”
I was interrupted by the sound of the cordless phone ringing. Dad picked it up. “Hello? Oh, hey, sweetheart… Hold on. Let me look at the guest list. I was thinking we had two hundred people down, but that number might be off. Just a second.” He covered the receiver. “Sorry, munchkin. I’ve got to help her with this and then get ready to hit the road. We’ll talk college later, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Later.”
He ruffled my hair as he walked past me, out of the dining room.
I ate the rest of my breakfast alone.
11
Nathan had to park his Honda a whole block from the party, which was a good thing for two reasons. First, it gave Bailey and me the chance to ditch him before we even got to the house. I don’t know about her, but I didn’t want to be seen with the guy wearing a shirt that said, MAY THE MASS TIMES ACCELERATION BE WITH YOU. Second, it meant there were tons of people at this party. And hopefully tons of alcohol, too.
So, while Nathan locked up the car, Bailey and I made a run for it. Only we didn’t really run, since we were both wearing less-than-abiding shoes (mine: platform slingbacks; hers: wedge heels), but we did manage to walk really, really fast. By the time we reached the front door of the party house—a total mansion, like Harrison had said—Nathan was far behind us. Well, he’d promised to stay out of our hair.
“Wow,” I heard Bailey gasp as the front door swung open for us, though I wasn’t sure if that was her reaction to the freakishly large house or to the drop-dead-gorgeous guy standing in front of us.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said, stepping aside to let us enter.
Automatically, I found myself standing up taller and sliding my shoulder blades back for optimum cleavage exposure. It was like a flirting reflex. I just wished I wasn’t all sunburned. “Hello to you.”