“Alexa,” Ava squeals, then fans herself as if she didn’t see me on the weekend. “It’s been forever.”
“Ha, ha,” I mock, then grab the plates Mom has put out. “Maybe help me set the table?”
“Sure.”
Inside the dining room, when I’m standing alone with Ava, I quickly grab her arm before my parents walk in.
“We need a game plan,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“Getting me out of here.”
Ava folds her arms, tilting her head. “Why?”
“Quit playing dumb. Dad is going to crucify me for not going to college.”
“And?”
This time, my arms fold in frustration. “What do you mean and? The whole purpose of you being here was to defend me.”
“I never said I was going to defend you,” she corrects me. “I said I was going to watch … with popcorn.”
A loud groan escapes me at the same time both my parents walk in. The mood in the room instantly shifts, forcing Mom to encourage us to take a seat and begin eating.
Ava carries most of the conversation, thank God. She’s been blessed with the gift of talking non-stop, no matter what topic you throw at her.
“Anyways …” She finally takes a breath, “… that’s what’s been happening with the online store. Hopefully, this new marketing campaign will give it the facelift I envision for my brand.”
Mom smiles politely, then shifts her gaze to me.
“It’s really nice to have you join us.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I smile in return. “The food is delicious as always. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten something so tasty.”
“I thought April’s place had chefs or something?” Ava questions.
“She does, but it doesn’t seem right for them to cook for me,” I admit, then rush, “you know, because I’m a guest for now.”
A cold breeze sweeps across my skin, but no windows or doors are open as I look around. It dawns on me the cool air is not so much the air but the tension between my father and me. The cold snap, cold front, or whatever you want to call it, is because his opinion of my behavior will have to come out tonight. There’s no chance he will keep it to himself. Not Lex Edwards, he always has to have the last word.
“And how do you expect to support yourself, Alexandra?” he questions in a condescending tone. “Stay with your friend until what exactly?”
Boom.
My eyes fall to the napkin sitting on my lap. The plain white fabric is like a blank canvas where I can paint my thoughts and emotions, blocking out his noise since he chooses to project all his bullshit onto me.
“Dad,” Ava begins with, trying her best to mediate between us. “We were all young—”
“Ava, this is not your battle.”
His cold stance on my sister is enough for me to raise my eyes to meet his.
“You’re right,” I state firmly, watching as his head draws back. He quickly realizes he’s shown emotion, then snaps into a stern glance once again. “This is not Ava’s battle. It’s also not my battle. It’s your battle. You can’t control me anymore, and it’s eating you alive.”
“Alexa,” Mom warns. “Your tone.”
My lips purse, followed by a frown. “My tone? Look at your husband and reprimand him, not me.”