Courtney Can't Decide: An ADHD-addled love triangle romantic comedy (Hot Mess Trilogy Book 2) by H. L. Macfarlane

Author:H. L. Macfarlane [Macfarlane, H. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macfarlane Lantern Publishing
Published: 2024-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter twenty-one

Courtney

Fuck me, my head was throbbing. My only solace was that misery loves company – especially equally hungover company – and Dad was only too happy to oblige.

“God, dove, there’s nothing better than chips and cheese the morning after a big one,” Dad sighed happily after a generous mouthful of chips. We were sitting outside our favourite café, wrapped up against the cold but needing the fresh air more than the comfort of central heating to clear our heads. Dad took a long draught of his black coffee before adding, “I’m glad I kept a fiver back last night just for this.”

He was sickly pale, as he always was the day after drinking, but aside from that he was looking good. For most of his life he’d been on the other side of pudgy, but two years ago he’d announced that he seriously wanted to get in shape. So that he’d actually stick to it I acted as his body double, jogging absolutely everywhere with him and working out to YouTube aerobics and yoga classes. As a result I started eating more, gaining weight and got much physically healthier, and Dad lost weight, gained muscle and got just as physically healthy as I was. We were both proud of the progress we’ve made: the fact that we’d finally managed to maintain a routine – however menial it was in the grand scheme of things – and the fact that we did it together.

Now that my dad was in the best shape of his life the similarities between us were easy to see. We had the exact same straw-coloured hair, though Dad’s was getting whiter with age, and though his eyes were blue and mine were green they were the same shape, and we had the same nose, and he wasn’t all that much taller than me. You could certainly tell that we were father and daughter, unlike when I stood beside my mum.

“Has your universal credit started coming through?” I asked him, through the pounding of a horrible headache. Bless Becca’s heart that she’d already told Rich that I wasn’t going to come into work this morning. One whiff of dog shite would have sent me straight to the toilet for hours.

Dad nodded, then winced at the action. “It has, aye. Thanks again for coming to the interview with me. God willing, I won’t be on it long!”

“You’ll be on it at least until your back’s healed, Dad, however long that is. Don’t push yourself.”

He grumbled in that way only dads could. “I like being independent. I hate not working.”

This was what always struck a nerve with me growing up with my mum and dad arguing. Mum called Dad lazy, because he was unable to keep a job in the same position for longer than a year at time. But my dad was one of the hardest working, dedicated people I’d ever met. It was just difficult to keep his attention. The moment a job got boring, repetitive and predictable it was like pulling teeth for him to continue working it.

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