Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,42

what did occur to me was that this was the closest I’d been to my father in years. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen his face. But now, I was holding something that he’d touched. Something that was smeared with his DNA. His handwriting on the front looked messy and was almost illegible.

Frances.

No one called me that anymore. Except my sister. I didn’t like that name. I’d shed it and every connotation that went with it years ago. Frances wasn’t who I wanted to be.

“Open it,” the lawyer urged.

I finally tore my eyes away from the pristine envelope and looked at the man with the bushy white handlebar moustache that made him look like Santa had taken up biking.

I shook my head. “No,” I said, and slipped it into my black handbag.

He nodded at me, as if he understood what I was feeling. He probably did. He probably saw this sort of thing all the time. Just as I was closing my handbag, my phone rang. It was Kyle. A stab of panic hit me in the ribs. I needed to leave or else I was going to run late. Kyle had stressed to me how important this was for him . . . us.

“I have to go,” I said, standing up.

“You can’t go yet, there are a lot of papers that need signing, and I need to get a copy of your ID too, please.”

“Uh . . . okay.” I sat back down and pulled my ID out. He took it and smiled.

“I’ll get the papers.” When he exited the room, I pulled my phone out and called Kyle.

“Babe, where are you?” He didn’t even bother to say hello. He sounded frantic.

“Still at the lawyer’s,” I said.

Huge sigh. “Are you going to be late?”

“I’m trying to hurry. But they have papers they need me to sign.”

Another huge sigh. “That’s why I told you to postpone this meeting. Lawyers always take ages.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” I said, feeling more panic rise inside me.

“Do you know how important this shoot is for me . . . for us,” he corrected.

“I know.”

“I booked the photographer and everything. The whole studio is set up. Everyone is here, except you.”

A stab in my ribs again. I wanted to tell him how important this was to me too, but he didn’t seem interested. Or seem to care. This was something from my dad. The man who I shared half my DNA with. The man who was now gone, and who I would never have a chance to meet. This was a huge day for me too, and he was just disregarding it.

“I need you by my side for these photos—research shows that people are much more likely to relate to someone who has a girlfriend. Besides, I don’t just want to appeal to the male demographic.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” I said, feeling pissed off but trying to hide it. But really I wanted to shout in his face. I usually hid those feelings from Kyle, though. I was always so scared that if I showed him how I felt, really felt, he might leave me. I hung up as the lawyer came back with the pile . . . Oh God, that was a serious pile of papers.

My hand was sore by the time I walked out of the lawyer’s office. I hadn’t written that much, with an actual pen, in years. I rushed back to the staircase that I’d walked up to get here. I never took the elevator. I couldn’t be in small spaces, not since the shed incident. Besides, taking stairs burned five to ten calories a minute. But when I got to the stairs there was a “No Entry, Slippery When Wet” sign blocking them. I looked at the elevator, took a deep breath and walked over to it. Just thinking about being inside was making me nervous. I pressed the button and before the doors opened, I checked my lipstick and smoothed my hair back in the steel panel that was now doubling as a mirror.

I looked like a real businesswoman today, that’s for sure. I’m not sure why I’d dressed like this, to be honest. A full suit, black heels and matching black bag. My hair scraped back neatly as if I worked in an office. I’d tried on about ten outfits that morning, but it was hard to decide what to wear to the reading of your dead father’s