But it did make getting ready in time a challenge.
My hair looks almost intentional in today’s age of super-messy buns, and chunky earrings make me look like I half put myself together. But the mascara smears were totally giving me away.
Raccoon eyes fixed, I climb out of the car and head for the entrance of the shop.
I can see Jake through the window, sitting at a table alone and reading the paper while waiting for me.
I pull down the hem of my old AC/DC T-shirt a little closer to the waistband of my cutoff jean shorts and yank the door open quickly. His head comes up at the sound of the chime, and he smiles when he sees me, despite my somewhat Frankenstein-ish appearance.
“Hey,” I say in greeting and toss my phone and keys down beside his things that have already established residency on the incredibly small bistro table. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
He directs a wink in my direction. “Stayed up late writing about me?”
HA! Yeah, I wish that were the reason. “Uh…not exactly.”
His eyebrows pull together and then lift, and it takes me a minute, but I finally understand what his face is insinuating.
Oh boy, he really has no idea. I nearly laugh. Truth is, Jake, I was diddling my doo-dah to the image of you when my dad interrupted.
My face turns beet red just thinking about it. “Ha. Yeah, no. I… Well, let’s just say it was interesting. But I was not with someone.”
“Interesting? That sounds like something I need to hear.”
“No,” I say vehemently. “You don’t.” I will die before I share with him the true happenings of last night.
Death would be much more enjoyable.
“Oh, come on, Holley. You’re privy to all the details of my life. I’m not allowed to know a few of yours?” he points out with a pout.
My stomach roils, but I hold strong. I cannot tell him about last night. Cannot. I’ll never survive it. Once I find a safe and legal way to sign my father up for a lobotomy, I’m taking this sordid tale to the fucking grave.
“No way, Jose. At least, not this detail. You’ll have to pick something else.”
My phone chimes on the table, but before I can pick it up, Jake reaches down and pulls it into his hands, his eyes already scanning the notification. “Uh…that’s my—”
“Oh shit, this isn’t mine,” he mutters and swiftly hands the phone back to me with apologetic eyes. “You…uh…have the same text chime as me.”
Considering we both have the same generation iPhone with eerily similar black cases, I can’t exactly be angry at him, but when I check the screen and see the text preview, instant humiliation blazes to a wildfire inside my veins.
Dad: I’ve seen turkeys doing it before. Kinda funny-looking, if you ask me. All those feathers.
Holy hell! I nearly faint.
If it weren’t already apparent, my father is the worst kind of text message wild card.
“I’m really sorry for reading your text, Holley. I honestly thought it was my phone.” Jake’s voice begs my eyes to meet his. “I’m not the type of shithead who intentionally disrespects people’s privacy and personal boundaries.”
Unbidden and unwelcome, a memory of Raleigh reading my emails pops into my mind.
If there was ever a man who would purposefully steamroll over my privacy and personal space, it was him. Which, considering he hid an affair from me for over a year, it was the true culmination of hypocritical and irony combined.
“It’s okay,” I mutter, straddling the line of being completely triggered by my past and unsure of what to say.
“And, uh, your dad…well…he sounds like a real riot…” Jake pauses, his teeth digging into his bottom lip in a half-assed attempt to fight his threatening smile. “You know, if you want to share any more text messages from your dear old dad, I’d be more than willing to lend a listening ear.”
Emotional overload engaged, my entire being is on the brink of spontaneously combusting right in the middle of this coffee shop.
I wonder if they’ll still be able to spread the ashes if they don’t get them from an official crematorium? I’d like to be on a mountaintop. With a view. Maybe by a lake.
My phone chimes again, and I look down to see two more ridiculous messages.
Dad: Deer are horny little bastards too. They chase their women around and slam as many of them as they can.