the woman he’d cheated on his second wife with in Hawaii.
“Guess my invite must have gotten lost in the mail.” Not that Mia would have wanted to go—or even been able to afford it—but she still felt salty about being excluded. No matter how many times she swore she wasn’t going to let her father’s chronic disregard affect her anymore, it still managed to hurt.
“I’m sure if you lived within commuting distance, you would have been summoned to make an appearance as well.” She could practically hear Holly’s eye roll over the phone. “But if you want to fly out here and take my place, by all means…”
“You don’t have to go, you know.”
“I know.” Holly sounded defensive now. “But it’s not worth the fight. I’d rather not deal with the bitching and moaning about how I’ve let him down—never mind that he’s been letting me down my whole life and only ever remembers he has daughters when it suits him.”
Mia winced at the familiar bitterness in her sister’s voice. They’d had this conversation, or some version of it, hundreds of times before.
“Besides, it’s free catered food and an open bar,” Holly added. “That’s worth putting up with Dad for the five whole minutes he’ll spend talking to me.”
“You know…” Mia chewed her lip. “If you’re going to see him anyway, you could tell him about my new job for me.”
Holly made a scoffing sound. “No way. I’m not your proxy.”
“Fine. Be that way.”
“Baby, I was born that way. You’re going to have to deliver your own news.”
Mia blew out a defeated breath. “I’ll call him. No promises I’ll actually be able to get hold of him by Saturday though.”
“As long as you make the effort. Rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with. You’ll feel better when it’s not hanging over your head anymore.”
“Will I?”
“Maybe? Do it anyway. Today.”
“Just be ready for him to complain to you about what a disappointment I turned out to be.”
“You’re not a disappointment. He’s the disappointment.” Holly spat the words like an overprotective yet adorable kitten. “And I’ll tell him exactly that if he tries to say any shit about you.”
“Don’t get into a fight with Dad on my behalf. Please.” The last thing Mia wanted was to be a source of even more tension in her family.
“It’s on him if he can’t behave. Don’t start shit, won’t be shit.” Holly didn’t share Mia’s devotion to conflict avoidance. “Listen, I’ve gotta run. My lunch break’s almost over. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
Mia bid her sister goodbye and disconnected the call.
Before she could lose her nerve, she called her dad. Holly was right. Better to get it over with so it wouldn’t be something else hanging over Mia’s head.
She got his voicemail, of course. He never answered his phone. Not when it was one of his daughters calling, anyway.
Chapter Three
“Are you sure you want to get rid of this?”
Mia glanced over at her friend Olivia, who was holding up a blank journal she’d found in the donation pile. “Positive. Take it if you want it.”
She’d invited some friends over to pick through the stuff she was giving away before her move. The movers charged by the square foot, so she was determined to get rid of as much as she could stand.
Her other friend, Brooke, looked up from the box of old DVDs she was going through. “It’s a really nice journal. Are you crazy?”
Mia turned back to flipping through the clothes in her closet. “Paul gave it to me for my birthday. And I prefer Moleskines anyway.”
Paul was constantly giving her blank journals when they were dating. It was his go-to gift, and Mia had never used a single one of them. She was addicted to journals, but only to a very particular kind. They had to be a certain size, they had to have a flexible, plain black cover, and they absolutely, positively had to have graph lines on the pages. Paul had paid just enough attention to notice Mia’s journal addiction, but not enough to ascertain her specific needs and preferences. Which pretty accurately summed up their entire relationship, now that she thought about it.
“Right.” Olivia pursed her dark red lips in distaste and dropped the leather journal back into the donation box. “Too bad LA’s under a red flag warning, or we could have an ex-boyfriend bonfire before you go.”
“He’s not worth it,” Mia replied. Although she had to admit the idea of a bonfire held appeal as