Page 195 of Double or Nothing

Or am I?

I don’t know anymore. Not right now.

My self-judgement wobbles precariously. And then I tumble.

He’s got me. I’m back in the hallway, being told off for doing something wrong, full of sorrys and I’ll never do it again.

Dad is looking at me with absolute certainty. No joking around. No space to breathe around him.

“Christopher will be home next Sunday,” he says, hammering it in.

“A week today, yes. I know.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“So Bryce told you. I imagine it was Bryce, yes?”

I realise my mistake. Bollocks.

Mum looks between us.

“He mentioned it, yeah,” I say carefully.

“When?”

“Recently.”

“I see.”

“He was just saying. We were talking about art, and he mentioned Christopher.”

“He shouldn’t be talking about Otley business. Not with you.” He makes one of those terrifying pauses, and the thought of him punishing Bryce chews me up alive. “I’ll let this one slide,” he says. “I’m sure he had other motives in play. Honourable ones. Reminding you himself what your priorities should be.”

“Probably,” I lie. “You know what Bryce is like. Always trying his best to please you.”

Dad smirks at that. He thinks that’s an actual compliment.

“I hope he did manage to talk some sense into you. I’d hate him to have failed me.”

He’s using the Bryce card so badly it’s a fucking crime, but I can’t say anything. Can’t risk anything. Not for him.

So I shut my mouth. Smile and suck it up.

I make sure he keeps the belief that Bryce is indeed the puppy dog who would never step out of line, because Bryce deserves that. It’s what he’s worked his fucking ass off for.

“Christopher arrives early morning, and Trevor and Susan are arranging a welcome home dinner late afternoon,” Dad says. “You will attend.”

It’s not a request. Not even close.

“And what about me and the great Christopher?” I ask. “Do you want me to snuggle up and get cosy with him on night number one? Honestly. He’s barely going to have landed before you start pushing the hookup. Is it really that time critical?”

“Life thrives on urgency and efficiency, and his parents are excited. I only hope you’ll be presenting him with respect after the long journey he’s taken.” I can feel the burn of his eyes, even though I’m staring at my plate. “This doesn’t have to be difficult, Alice.”

I want to cry like the eight-year-old me who didn’t want to disappoint her family.

“Please. Don’t make me do this,” I say. “I don’t want to be with Christopher.”

“You haven’t seen him in years.”