Pocket Pickers #projectwomanup

No Strings Attached

C H A P T E R 7

"Ah, Remi! It's nice to see you up so early."

I wasn't going to admit to anyone, especially Ralph, that I was up so early because I hadn't slept that well in years. So I resorted to glaring at him, before continuing to walk aimlessly around the kitchen for something to eat. "I would say the same to you, but I hate you. So I hope you drown in your cup of coffee."

Ralph looked down at the coffee in his hands, uncertainty flashing in grey orbs. As if I had the capability of drowning him in a cup of coffee a quarter the size of his face.

"She's just kidding dad," Pierre appeared from around the corner, buttoning his shirt. My glare turned into a scowl. Great, both the Turners talking to me. In the morning.

"No, I'm not."

"Well I'll be off!" Ralph interjected, grabbing his briefcase and hurrying out the door.

I slumped down in relief, before I realized that Pierre was still in the house, and worse, he was staring at me.

"What?"

"I'm going off to work too, but I don't want you alone in my house."

"Our house. We're engaged, you idiot."

He grimaced. "Fine, but you better not burn the house down or something. My friend had a crazy girlfriend who set their kitchen on fire once."

"Good thing I'm not your girlfriend," I mumbled.

"Oh, but I thought we were engaged?" He said snarkily, being chuckling and briskly walking out of the door.

Finally leaving me alone to my thoughts. I found a bunch of food in the fridge, finally deciding to just have some ready-made coffee. Then I positioned myself on a comfy couch, and turned on the television.

I tried to concentrate on the sappy drama going on in front of me but my mind was in a traffic jam.

I wondered how my dad was faring, I didn't want to admit it, but I was worried about him.

Back when my mom was still faithful, he used to tell me, "As long as you're okay, I'll be okay." But now he was all alone in a big world, without anyone to guide him out of the hole he had dug around his problems. It was so ironic how back in time, my dad was my parent, but now it seems like the only person acting like a parent was me.

Was he thankful for the job he was getting? Was he mad that I was getting married to a man I've never known? Does he even know I'm getting married? I couldn't help but think about the possibility that he didn't know about the sacrifices I've made for him so he could get his life back together.

And Henry. Oh god, Henry. That little sonofagun. I hadn't spoke to him in two days. That was two days longer than any other time we've spent apart. He couldn't be mad at me anymore, right? I had to tell him everything before he found out and made everything worse than it is at the moment.

My train of thought was broken by the scorching feeling in my hands. I looked down to see that my palms were set firmly on the sides of the burning cup. With an animalistic yelp, I dropped the cup.