She threw me a sidelong glance, folding her arms across her chest. “Because of me? Don’t be. My family is way more fucked-up than yours, I guarantee that.”
“I heard your dad is a nice guy. Adam likes him, anyway.”
“Everybody who works with my dad likes him. He’s a hard-ass, but he cares about his people. His work people are more his family than…” Her voice died off and then she shrugged, glancing out the side window.
“Than his own family?”
“He has one of those, too. A shiny new family.”
I blinked. “And where do you fit in?”
“I don’t.”
I looked at her and saw that her features were completely blank. From what I knew of April—and what my social media info guy had collected for me—Daddy was pretty damn loaded and more than generous. She drove a compact, sporty Lexus, wore designer clothes and lived in a condo paid for and furnished by him. But she didn’t seem the spoiled rotten type—at least what I knew of her.
“He’s not a bad person at all. He just…I just…We just don’t get each other, I guess.”
“That sounds familiar.”
She cocked a head at me. “So your dad’s annoyed that you don’t follow his ideologies?”
I let out a breath. “Let’s just say I’m his big disappointment. He did everything he could to raise a young version of himself and got me instead.”
“So that’s why he’s so pissed at you? Because you grew up to become your own person?” She shook her head.
I felt a twinge of guilt that she had jumped to that conclusion—with my help—when that wasn’t exactly the case.
“Some of it is justified and some of it is his bullshit. I lied to him and it pissed him off.”
“I take it it was a pretty huge lie?”
I clenched my teeth. That same guilt…my dad’s rant on my graduation day, my mom’s tears. He wouldn’t have attended had it not been for her begging. My chest tightened. “Yeah.”
April was watching me, and when I looked up from the road, I saw that she had that deep thing going on with those eyes of hers—like she was studying me.
“It takes two to hold onto a bitter family grudge like that…I hope it doesn’t carry over to your mom and grandpa.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I can’t blame them for trying what they did if it’s that hard for them to get the two of you to sit down at the same table.”
I clenched my jaw and didn’t say anything. Easy for her to say. She hadn’t had to live through all of my dad’s BS.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’d have to care about the situation in order to be offended.”
Silence. She knew I was lying.
She turned and looked out the windshield at the road ahead.
“A running feud between two people in a family affects far more than those two people, you know. It’s kind of like divorced parents who can’t stand each other and can’t get along, even for the sake of the kids. I know all about what that feels like.”
I blinked and kept my eyes on the sea of red brake lights in front of me. I had no answer for that, because she was right. I was more than a little astonished that I’d never looked at it that way. All I could see and hear whenever I thought of my stand off with Dad was his constant criticism, his continuous disapproval, his lip curling as he stated on my college graduation day, “You’re a disappointment.”
Heat seared under my collar at that remembered insult, but I couldn’t tell if I was angrier at him for his harsh words or myself, for having disappointed him. I swallowed.
She was watching me again. Under her scrutiny, I felt sort of itchy. Like she was getting under my skin. And I didn’t like that feeling at all.
“Maybe you should pay more attention to your own life and fuck-ups rather than being so quick to point at others,” I let out in a tight voice.
With a quick intake of breath, she sat back. I took a fortifying breath but didn’t look at her. I felt like shit inside for saying it. But it was safer this way. I could not afford to let her under my skin. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
She folded her arms tightly against her chest and turned her head to gaze out the passenger window. She was fuming, hurt. That much was obvious. The scariest part was that I knew exactly what buttons to push to get that reaction from her. It was a talent of mine.
And she wouldn’t speak up for herself. I knew that too. So she’d sit there in the dark and fume and feel like shit, like I’d counted on.