Page 141 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

“I know she thinks she does.” His face does a stern thing.

“You want to grow up, then do it. Stop hiding behind old perceived hurts, my darling daughter. You’re not full of trauma just doubt. I told her the same thing I’m telling you. Meet her where she is. But leave me out of it.” He kisses me on the top of the head as he pulls me into a hug.

“Don’t miss your train.” He leaves and there’s a wad of cash on the bed. Mad money. With the snick of the door I suddenly feel alone but not lonely. I’ll go see Prague and that clock and I’ll photograph it all. Then on to the last place I knew he was. A place I know he left a mark. My last signpost and then maybe that’s where the path ends or mine begins. Who the hell knows.

I just have one thing to do before I go.

Chapter 73

Round Peg/Square Hole

ZANE

Boston

“I can do it my damn self.” I hoist my father up and walk him over to the couch for his PT.

“I understand but until that brawny man who is about to arrive tells me that, I continue to lift your sorry ass.”

I grab his non-slip compression socks and bend down in front of him. He grumbles and looks up at the ceiling.

“Your mother can do that,” he grumbles.

“Take the help and tuck away your pride old man. I sent my mother to a lunch with her squad.”

“Squad?”

“You know the gossip borderline mean girl gang who run Brookline Country Club.” He laughs.

“You mean her friends.”

“If you want to call them that.” He chuckles.

“You know we’re fine, boy.” I glare at him and he corrects himself. “Zane.” I sit back on my heels and look up at him. He offers his hand. That’s all he’s handing me now, his hand. I take it and hoist myself up, not really using his help.

The giant man strolls into the house and Jack tries to stand to greet him. Always the manners.

The man says, “You look good today. Color is good, socks in place. We’re just going to get those legs moving a little bit.”

“You know what’s a great motivator, a steak, a cigar and a Scotch. I’d run for those right now.”

He winks at me knowing he can never have those again. I shake hands with the trainer and make my way out of the room.

My dad calls after me, “Son, where’s your squad?”

He’s right. I’ve all but ignored Porter, Ben and Colin. Each of them with a different close connection to her. Colin’s the only one who pushed back and Porter showed up in the text thread simply to say, “It will be a moment but I hope you are well.”

They all knew it was fake but yet they’re all acting like it’s a real breakup.

I sit outside on the patio furniture overlooking my mother’s prized lawn. She’s the one who mowed, fed and replanted it until she found the perfect gardener. She’s fired probably a hundred gardeners over the years then hauled out the mower herself. This last one has been around for at least a decade. She knows what she wants and doesn’t stop until she gets it even if what she wants is something someone else might consider frivolous.

I stretch my legs out and spin my phone on the table. “Who’s to say what’s frivolous?”

“What’s that dear?”

I turn around to see my mother looking lovely with her purse notched in the crook of her elbow.

“Your lawn.”