Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
“Now that I know you understand where I’m coming from, I feel even worse for not telling you.” I laid my hand on his knee. “I’m really sorry. Does it help at all that I never lied?”
“Your mother is expecting a twenty-four-year-old to walk through that door,” he reminded me grimly.
“My mother wasn’t going to like you, no matter what. At least this way she has a reason that isn’t openly pathetic.”
“I don’t think it’s openly pathetic to dislike Michael’s loud chewing. Or his overly American accent,” Neil muttered.
“Somebody’s projecting,” I sing-songed. “I never once said that you were openly pathetic. You adopted that title on your own.”
The corner of Neil’s mouth twitched, but he squashed his smile before it could fully form. I lifted the hand he rested on the gearshift and kissed his fingertips through his leather gloves.
He pulled his hand back with a resigned sigh. “It’s only that I thought you were getting better at confronting difficult situations. We’ve been talking about the great progress you’re making—”
“Yes, progress. I’m not one hundred percent perfect.” I heard the defensiveness in my own voice and mentally started counting to ten. “I’m sorry, I just… Could you not bring up therapy? I’d rather argue.”
“Sorry, that was below the belt, wasn’t it?” He looked over, then back to the road.
“I’m working on it.” I had to. It had been a rocky year for both of us, with Neil’s cancer treatment and my sudden plunge into the world of medical caregiver. He’d spent a scary time in the ICU, nearly dying from a kidney infection that had struck while his immune system was down for the count; I’d been in full-time survival mode, both for him and myself. Then, for the months that followed, I’d never quite shaken that mindset. If anything annoyed me, I’d think, “But at least Neil is okay,” and feel incredibly guilty for being upset, especially if he’d been the cause of the annoyance. It had made for a very contentious few months of me pretending everything was fine until I exploded. Neil had constantly walked on eggshells to keep from upsetting me, until we both decided that seeing a counselor together was in our best interests.
Couple’s therapy should be bottled and sold at every available retail outlet.
“Look, this… it has nothing to do with you,” I assured him. “This was completely shitty of me, and I’m sorry. But I promise, I’m not doing this anymore. This is just the last one of my avoidance issues coming to a nasty head. And it’s not fair to you.”
He looked over to me, his expression softening. “Apology accepted. But really, Sophie, this puts me in a terribly awkward position.”
“I know.” Boy, did I know. And he couldn’t begin to imagine the half of it. Neil had grown up in an extremely wealthy family, jetting from their homes in England and Iceland to fabulous holiday locales. The Elwood brood had been sophisticated from birth, it seemed. My family had an uncle who painted his beer gut to look like a watermelon when he walked with the rest of his VFW buddies in the Fourth of July parade. Neil was about to get the culture shock of his life, no matter how laid back and easygoing he thought he was.
“If it makes you feel any better, at least you’re getting the biggest, most extended of the extended family gatherings out of the way first. After Christmas, any other interaction with my family will be a piece of cake.” I added, trying to put his mind at ease, “Besides. I’m sure everyone is going to be totally cool with you.”
* * * *
We were overrun the moment we stepped through the door.
“Becky!” someone—my cousin Steve, I think—shouted into the dining room. “Yer daughter and her fella got in.”
“Merry Christmas!” my aunt Marie shouted, wrapping her arms around me. Her hair was a graying blonde cloud of perfectly sculpted curls that got into my eyes and mouth as she hugged me.
Beside me, Neil Elwood, internationally known billionaire, swayed slightly on his feet. I really hoped he wasn’t going to pass out, because he was carrying two bottles of very expensive champagne in the sleek black shopping bag in his hand.
My aunt Marie stepped back and did a double-take as she looked Neil over. Her eyes went wide, and she bit her lips to try and disguise her mischievous smile. “Oh, your mom is going to shit.”
The back porch of my grandmother’s house was easily the most down-home place in the Midwest, decked out in laminated wood paneling and thick plastic rugs to protect the carpet in the high traffic areas. Christmas saw the room turned into a glorious buffet with my aunts and great aunts scurrying to bring hot dishes to the already laden-down folding table. A truly hideous light up clock of the Last Supper hung on the wall over the sliding glass entryway into the main part of the house.