Reaching into my purse to retrieve it, I almost drop it on the ground when I see man who pays the rent staring back at me.
“Hello,” I say, fully anticipating he may have butt dialed me.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for more than twenty-four hours.”
There’s that Roberts charm I love so much. “Sorry, Dad. I’m at camp, the service here is terrible.”
He huffs, like somehow my inability to control whatever it is that makes cell service a thing is inconveniencing him. “I need to share some news with you. I proposed to Norah over the weekend and she said yes.”
“That’s . . . ,” not a surprise, “incredible, Dad. Congratulations to you both.”
Maybe that’s why he’s so frustrated about not being able to reach me. He was worried I’d find out from someone else. Dad has had tons of girlfriends over the years, but as soon as he started letting Norah post him online, I knew it wouldn’t be long until there was a wedding.
I’m not Norah’s biggest fan out of principle. But if he’s going to marry someone, I’m at least glad he’s marrying someone closer to his own age and not the women closer to mine and Elsa’s ages, like he was doing for a while.
Mom called it his midlife crisis.
“You being at camp has made it difficult to organize a bridesmaid dress. Your mother told me you’re home on the fifteenth, correct?”
I don’t know which thing to follow first. The fact I’m wanted as a bridesmaid or the fact my mom and dad have talked. Norah has her own kids, so I wouldn’t have expected to be included in the wedding party and I can’t imagine Dad advocating for my involvement. “Yeah, Dad, the fifteenth.”
“I’ll have Brenda change your flight home; email her the details along with your current measurements. You’ll need to fly straight to Palm Springs for this to work out.”
Palm Springs? “For what to work out?”
I hear him sigh. “The wedding, Aurora. Are you listening properly? We would like a short honeymoon before summer break ends and I have to go to Europe for the Dutch Grand Prix.”
My words catch in my throat. “You’re getting married so soon?”
“Yes, Aurora. And I need you to fly straight to Palm Springs for this to work out. Do you understand?”
His snippy tone should hurt me more than it does, but my brain is scrambling as I realize he’s waiting for me to be free instead of just doing it without me. Jesus Christ the bar really is on the floor. “I understand, Dad. I’m excited to see what dress Norah picks. Thanks, uhm, thank you for letting me be a part of it.”
“Of course you’re a part of it, Aurora. You’re my daughter.” I’m stunned to silence. It’s such a basic statement from a parent. It’s not even something particularly kind but from my dad it’s major. Weirdly, I feel like my recent happiness caused this. Put out good energy into the universe and get it back. Silly, but comforting all the same.
I want to tell him how much that small statement means to me. How it’s everything I’ve ever needed and how I desperately want to have a good relationship with him, but I don’t get a chance to, because he starts talking again. “And it’d look strange in the photos if you’re not there. I’m not having Norah’s moment stolen by the media’s obsession with giving you and your sister attention.”
My heart sinks. “So you only want me there for the photographs?”
“Is there something wrong with you today? What aren’t you understanding?” he snaps impatiently. “Norah has arranged a magazine exclusive. Yes, you need to be there for the photographs. I’m not having our day overshadowed by rumors of a family divide because of you.”
I feel numb. “Okay. Do I get a plus one?”
“Do you need a plus one? Who is it? Emily?”
“Emilia,” I correct him. “But no, not her. I met someone. He’s cal—”
“Met someone where, exactly?”
I don’t know why my hands are sweating, but they are. “At camp. He’s cal—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Aurora. I’m not letting you bring a stranger to a private family occasion.” He interrupts me again and I can feel my heart pounding as my frustration grows. “You won’t even remember who he is after you stop playing make believe at that farm. Be realistic for once, for Christ’s sake. It’s my wedding, not a children’s birthday party.”