Woke Up Like This(56)

“I still remember, a couple months after the funeral, my parents were just zombies. Going through the motions of the day. I made some dimwit joke and they laughed. Like, really laughed. For the first time since she died. Since then, I’ve just felt like it’s my job to keep them happy. Though happy isn’t the right word. They were functioning, mostly.” The pain in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s like he’s dropped his walls entirely, for me. As sad as the circumstances are, I feel grateful that he’s sharing this with me. “When I saw my mom happy that first morning, and then later at Ollie’s, it threw me. Because I didn’t know she could be like that again.”

“She really did look happy.”

“I don’t know how much of it has to do with Jared. But if he’s any part of it, I can’t be mad at that. I guess I just feel shitty that I couldn’t make her happy myself.”

“Don’t say that. You do make her happy. And even if you didn’t, you can’t make everyone you meet like you. Well—I mean, maybe you can. But you shouldn’t have to.”

He shrugs. “It’s just this weird compulsion. I can’t stop. Like, even after Susie died, my parents made me see a therapist. And I even tried to impress her by telling her how great I was doing all the time. And today, I bought vegetables at the grocery store just to impress people.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know . . . random shoppers. The cashier. I have no idea how to even prepare vegetables.” His modesty threatens to melt me into a puddle on the spot.

“Vegetables? You really are a people pleaser.”

“It’s exhausting being me,” he says with a smirk.

“Did it bug you, that I . . . wasn’t your biggest fan?” I ask, careful not to use the word hate.

His simmering eyes meet mine. “More than you know.”

“Then why did you try so hard to make me hate you? You could have told me why you needed the presidency . . . Maybe I wouldn’t have—”

“Char, you already had your mind made up about me no matter what I did. I guess I’d rather get negative attention from you than none at all.”

“But why? That’s so . . . foolish.”

He turns to face me. “You really have no idea, do you?” he asks, voice dropping with a distinct edge. It’s husky and sexy in a way that makes me both want to curl into a ball and reach for him.



“About what?”

He opens his mouth to respond just as a blinding headlight floods my vision. Ollie’s Jeep.

I pull back, half-blinded by the light, pulse thrumming under my skin. I’d entirely forgotten we were still playing a game. The existence of anyone else momentarily forgotten. “They finally found us,” I say, standing abruptly.

“Yeah. Perfect timing,” he mutters behind me. I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic. And I’m too scared to ask.



We only play one more round before Ollie admits he’s tired and needs to be horizontal.

“Looks like Operation Back to Seventeen was a bust,” Renner says on the way home.

“Don’t remind me.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “Guess we should actually tell people the wedding is off, huh? My mom is not gonna be happy.”

“Yeah, mine either,” I say. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We’ll get out of here.” My ribs tighten at the thought of canceling. That’s strange. Why does the thought of canceling make me want to cry? The grief must be making me extra emotional.

His eyes roam my face and hands, then my lap, before reverting to the road. “On the bright side, we did find out some crucial information. You got some closure with Kassie and I got to talk to my mom. Is there anything else you still want to find out? Maybe we can revisit our brainstorming list,” he adds.

“There is still something . . . ,” I start, nervously biting the inside of my cheek.

“What’s that?”

“I think I want to visit my dad’s wife.” Talking about Renner’s sister piqued my interest. His sister was taken away from him far too soon. And it seems like I don’t even make an effort to see mine, both of whom are alive and well. That doesn’t sit right.

He’s quiet for a moment. “Want me to come with?”

My heart warms at his offer. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

His words have a soothing effect. And when he reaches over the console to give my hand a squeeze, the knot in my stomach uncoils, just a little bit.

We may be stuck in this strange, strange reality, but for the first time in my life, it feels good to rely on someone. Even if it’s Joshua Taylor Renner.





TWENTY-FOUR



When Dad told me about the lake house in Fairfax, I pictured an ultramodern boxy structure similar to his high-rise in the city, all cement and floor-to-ceiling windows. I certainly didn’t picture this lived-in, farmhouse-style home.

One look at the disheveled Barbie in the rosebush and the overturned child’s pink bicycle in the middle of the pebbled path, and it’s clear a family lives here. There’s a tug in my stomach when I spot the pastel chalk hearts and hopscotch. These were drawn by my little sisters.