All We Ever Wanted by Emily Giffin

Author:Emily Giffin
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2018-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

THE NEXT MORNING, I got up early to shower and wash my hair. With thick, curly hair, I had to let it completely air-dry to look halfway decent, which gave me plenty of time to agonize over what to wear. All my stuff seemed either too “going out,” too churchy, or too everyday. Of course I called Grace for advice, even though we’d already talked the night before for over an hour, breaking down the whole situation. In general, she was sort of on the fence about everything—not nearly as pissed off at Finch as Dad was, but definitely still upset.

As far as my wardrobe went, she simply said, “Don’t try too hard. Go casual.”

I agreed, as we talked through my options and settled on white jeans, tight and ripped at the knees, with a blue silk tank I’d found at a vintage shop. After she wished me luck for about the fourth time, I hung up and put on very light makeup. I wouldn’t have worn any at all—that’s how much Dad hates it—but I banked on him being too distracted by his frantic cleaning to really notice the subtle application. Our house is always freakishly neat, but that morning he really went to town, his OCD kicking in as he vacuumed and swept and Windexed every surface. At one point, he announced that he had to run an errand and returned with a bag of assorted pastries from Sweet 16th, which he proceeded to arrange on a dinner plate before transferring them to a platter he used when grilling out.

“The plate was better,” I said, glancing up from my latest issue of InStyle, pretending to be calm.

He nodded, looking a little busted, then put them back on the plate, walking it over to the coffee table. He put it down, along with a short stack of napkins he spread accordion-style. I took it as a hopeful sign that he would keep his word about having an open mind. At the very least, I knew he didn’t hate Mrs. Browning, as Dad never goes to any kind of effort when he hates someone.

At exactly eleven, the doorbell rang. Dad took a deep breath and walked slowly over to the front door as I stayed put on the sofa and ran my fingers through my hair, breaking up the crunch of the mousse. My stomach was in knots. Now out of my view, I heard Dad open the door and say hello. He then introduced himself to Finch and invited them in. I took a few deep breaths as they all came into sight, walking in single file, Mrs. Browning first, followed by Finch, then Dad. It was sort of surreal, the way it feels when you see a teacher at the grocery store or in another context besides school.

“Please. Have a seat,” Dad said, pointing to the sofa next to me and one of the two chairs. He looked as nervous as I felt, but less pissed off than I expected.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.