Page 75 of Beautiful Crazy
“I’m here if you need to vent or get your mind off stuff later. I hope you know that.” The sincerity in her tone makes my throat tight.
“Thank you, Gemma. Truly.” I pause, smiling, as I remember something I wanted to tell her. “Oh, guess what I did on the flight here.”
“Uh, slept?” she offers with a small laugh.
Chuckling, I say, “No. I wish I could sleep on planes. I read this new book I had recently picked up at a bookstore you may know of…A Book to Remember.
“Oh, god,” Gemma groans, but I can hear the smile in her tone as well. “It was one of mine, wasn’t it?”
“What a good guess,” I tease. “As a matter of fact, yes, it was a Gemma Astor novel.”
“Which one did you get?”
“Free Heart.”
“Aw, Daisy and Wyatt. They’re so special.” There’s love in her voice, like she’s talking about Sutton or one of her sisters. It makes me smile. “What part are you at?”
“I finished the stable scene.” My body heats remembering it. “God, that was hot.”
Gemma laughs, and it’s like music to my ears.
“You’re a little sneaky, aren’t you?” she drawls, and in my mind, I can picture her perfectly. The way she’d be trying to bite back a grin, the glimmer in her eyes, and the way I’d want to pull her into me as I told her how proud of her I am.
But since I’m on the other side of the country, over the phone will have to do.
“It’s an amazing book, Gem,” I tell her honestly. “You’re an incredible writer and should be proud of yourself. I know I am.”
She groans again, and I picture her covering her face with her hand. The pink that would stain her cheeks.
“I’m serious,” I go on. “I’m impressed, and can’t wait to get back to it tonight.”
“Well, thank you,” she says softly. There’s a beat of silence, but it’s not awkward. It’s… comfortable. Finally, she murmurs, “I’ll let you get back to your mom, but don’t hesitate to reach out again. I mean it.”
Hanging up, it feels like some of the weight on my shoulders has dissipated. Like hearing her voice, getting to talk to Sutton about baseball, they helped me feel even a little bit better. As I head back to my mom’s room, my heart stalls and annoyance flares as I run into my dad before I can getback inside.
“Where were you coming from?” he asks as he catches sight of me.
“Just making a call,” I reply, voice clipped. “Good day at the office?”
I can’t even hide the frustration in my tone, and he clocks it, rolling his eyes. “Don’t even start with me, Everett. I’ve had a long day, and I don’t need your shit.”
The vein in my neck throbs, and I grind down on my molars. “You should’ve taken the day off to be here with your wife. Would it kill you to take some time off for your family?”
His eyes narrow into thin slits as they take me in, sharp jaw flexing. “I’m aware you don’t understand the importance of showing up for your obligations, Everett, since you’ve spent your entire life going against those said obligations, but don’t you dare come here and rag on me for shit you know nothing about.”
“I have plenty of obligations,” I spit out. “They’re just not the ones you wanted from me, and I’m done making apologies for that. If you would care to ask at all, you would know that I’m very happy with my life in Blossom Beach. I love my job and my students, and I’ve even met somebody who makes me very happy. Do you care at all about your only child’s happiness, Dad? Or do you only care about the fact that I didn’t follow in your precious footsteps?”
“I don’t have time to do this childish arguing with you, Everett. Save it for somebody who cares.”
And with that, he leaves me standing there, the wind knocked out of me as he waltzes into my mother’s room. It stings, hearing him admit he doesn’t care. I’ve always known it, but he’s never said as much. It’s going to be along week, but I guess if there’s one silver lining in the whole situation, it’s that my father will be working every single day this week, so at least for most of the time I’m here, I won’t have to see or deal with him.
I haven’t been back in Seattle for long, but it hits me how much it doesn’t feel likehomeanymore. When I think about home, Blossom Beach comes to mind, and I’m not exactly sure when the switch happened, but I can’t wait to get back.
Thirty-One
Gemma
Music plays softly as I roll the dough with my hands, folding it in on itself over and over. I’m covered in flour, from my apron to my arms, even my face, I’m sure. I’m clearly not the baker in the family, but I got an itch to make something I haven’t made in years—homemade biscuits and strawberry jam—so that’s what I’m doing. My mom taught me and my siblings this recipe when we were kids, and I swear it’s what kick-started Grace’s love for all things baking.