ANNIE

“Please drop me off at home,” I say. “It’d be easier for everyone.”

My mother glances into the backseat of the car at me. Gran is sitting next to her up front, busy playing with her new Target earrings.

“It’s not my fault you scheduled dinner with your father tonight.” My mother sniffs, her nose in the air as it always is with any talk of my dad. “I’ll drop you off and he can give you a ride back.”

“He won’t care if I’m twenty minutes late. I don’t want to make him go out of his way to bring me back.”

“Would it kill him to take a second out of his busy, busy, busy work day to drop his daughter off at home? I don’t think so.”

“Mom—”

“I’m serious, Annie.”

My car is at my apartment, which is the first problem. All because my mother insisted on picking me up this morning to deliver my bathing suit. Never in a million years had I thought that swimming lessons would turn into an all day extravaganza—I’d planned to be back at my apartment hours ago.

My mom’s nail appointment had run late, then we’d grabbed lunch, and now there’s not enough time for me to stop by my apartment before heading to my dad’s place. According to my mom, she’s now got dinner plans with Claude, so she doesn’t have time to bring me all the way to my college housing before she’s meeting him.

Apparently, I’m just one huge inconvenience.

I’d considered rescheduling after the day I’d had, but that’s also not a great option. My father is a busy man, and we usually schedule our dinner dates weeks in advance around his work schedule.

My mother does have a point—I never ask my dad for anything. I don’t expect anything, either. Hopefully, he won’t mind giving me a ride home later as a one-time deal.

“Tell your father hello,” my mother says, the familiar stiffness creeping into her voice. “If he can’t possibly find a way to bring you to your apartment tonight, have him call me, and I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Don’t forget this.” My grandmother shoves a Target bag into my hands. “Your suit. It’s so freaking horrible that Cohen James won’t know what to do with himself.”

“Mother, watch your language,” Ellie says with a frown.

I shut the door on my mother and grandmother as they argue about whether or not the word ‘freaking’ should be allowed when I’m in the car. I wave, jog up the front steps, and curl the collar of my coat against the chilling wind. It’s almost March but we’re in a horrible cold spell—there was a storm last weekend that left enough snow to go sledding.

“Dad!” I pound on the door again. I have my gloves in my bag, but I was too lazy to put them on—I hadn’t expected to stand in the cold for so long. “Open up, dad. It’s me!”

My phone rings, and I look down. Oddly enough, it’s my father’s name popping up on the screen.

“Hey, kid, sorry I’m running late at the office,” he says in a rush once I’ve fumbled to answer it. “I completely forgot Maria changed the code to the garage door. Do you mind letting yourself in? It’s 4-2-1-1. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”

He forgot all about dinner. I exhale a breath that forms a cloud in the crisp night air. “Did mom just call you?”

There’s a pause that follows from his end. “She said she’s waiting in the driveway until you get inside. Please don’t leave, cupcake, I want to see you—I really do. It’s just this last proposal I’m about to send off, it’s almost finished...”

I debate running back to my mom’s car. She’d be more than happy to bring me home because that would make my dad look bad. She’d gloat silently the entire trip and hold my dad’s lackluster parenting skills over his head. They don’t have the healthiest of relationships. From what I can tell, mom was still very much in love when they separated. Dad was, too, he just wasn’t around to show it.

The thought of my mother and father arguing is exhausting, and I don’t want to fuel their feud. So instead of slinking back to the car, I give my mom and Gran a cheery wave and let myself in through the garage.

I’m not a complete martyr, though, let’s be honest. My dad has a nice place. A really nice place, and my apartment on campus has been experiencing faulty internet and cable. I’m sort of looking forward to a half hour of peace and quiet with the remote all to myself.

No roommates, no mom or grandmother preaching at me, no Claude walking around without a shirt on, his mouth half-open in a state of perma-confusion. A piece of quiet sanctuary sounds like heaven.

I plop the Target bag on the counter. Inside, there’s not one swimsuit, but two. Gran made me buy the second one. It’s black, sleek, and beautiful. I’m a bit curvy, so those tiny little triangles never sit right on me. This one, however, fits like a glove.

I’m saving it to wear aboard the cruise. Who knows? Maybe I’ll meet the man of my dreams there. It’ll be summer break, just after I’ve graduated college. I don’t want a horrible swimsuit on when I meet the man I might eventually marry.

Tottering into the living room, tired from the cold, exhausted from swimming, dead on my feet after shopping with Gran, I settle onto my dad’s luxurious couch. It’s cushy, and I sink into it as I wrap myself in a blanket. Next up, I flick on some horrible reality show and snuggle down for the wait.

My eyes are closed before the credits roll.