CHAPTER EIGHT

The first half hour of our drive was quiet. Chris and Nick whispered amongst themselves in the backseat while Matt stole glances in my direction every few minutes to make sure I wasn't crying again.

Speed limit signs blurred into streaks of light as our headlights passed. I sat with my forehead pressed to the window.

Earlier, we'd agreed to spend tonight and tomorrow at the boys' family cabin only a few hours East.

"Unless you'd rather go straight there," Matt said. But I wasn't in any rush to face the truth.

Ever since we'd decided to take this trip I'd been playing out every possible scenario in my head. First, it was best case: my father would open the door, immediately recognize my face and take me into his arms where we'd cry together and he'd say he's waited for this moment his whole life. Then, of course, there was the worst case scenario which entailed him spitting in my face and telling me to never contact him again. Though, I'd like to believe he wouldn't actually spit in my face.

I sat up, and Matt reached for the volume dial on the radio. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged, lifting my legs onto the seat and pulling them to my chest. "I thought I'd be a little more excited, if I'm honest. But all I keep thinking about are the 'what ifs.'"

"I think how you're feeling is completely valid," Nick said from the backseat. "This is a big, possibly life-changing, decision!" His voice went shrill. "I'm nervous for you."

I pulled my knees closer to my chest and shot him a look. "Thanks."

He lifted his arms as if to say well?

"All I'm saying is you have every right to be a little on guard." He paused. "What do you know about your dad?"

I shifted in my seat. There wasn't a whole lot I could remember from before he left, and even less about what mom mentioned after he'd gone. There were a few faint memories that would come back to me, but they were so blurry it was like looking through water.

I dug my phone out of my bag and pulled up a Facebook page. "This is him." I handed the phone to Nick whose jaw practically fell on the carpeted backseat floor. If we were in a cartoon you would've seen hearts popping out of his eyes.

"Ooh, he's handsome," he gawked. "Look at that jawline!"

"Let me see!" Chris snatched the phone out of Nick's hand, squinting at the screen. "This guy is at least double your age."

"Just how I like 'em," he said, propping his hands under his chin.

I groaned in protest. Ew. "Oh my God, please never say that about my dad again."

I stuck my hand out for the phone. Chris took one more look then handed it over.

"Nick's right, though. The man is handsome. I can only imagine what your mom looks like."

Nick clicked his tongue at Chris, swatting his arm. "Ow! What? I didn't mean it like that!" he defended, rubbing his tricep.

I grimaced. He might not have meant it in a your mom must be a milf kind of way, but the thought of any of them finding my mother attractive made my skin crawl.

I glanced down at the picture still on the screen. I'd studied it, and all the others on his account, for weeks, picking apart his features and trying to rearrange them to match mine. He had the same dark hair, but kept his trimmed close to the sides of his head with short, tousled waves falling perfectly along his forehead. He was in his early forties with a dazzling business man smile that cut off at least five years. For a corporate lawyer, that probably only helped in the courtroom.

Mark owned his own small practice in Harborough according to his profile. I'd clicked the link one night while daydreaming about having grown up with him instead of my mom. Sullivan & Park was co-owned by him and his wife, Angeline, who looked like she should be strutting the runways of Milan rather than staring at legal documents all day.

My heart constricted.

I locked the screen and dropped it back in my bag. "My parents were around your age when they had me."

"Wow, that's young," Matt said. Half of his face shadowed in a pale red glow from the dash lights.

"They met when my mom was waitressing at a local diner. She'd seen him come in with a group of friends all wearing suits that looked two sizes too big for their frames, and when they were sat in her friend's section, she made her switch. They met up that night after her shift and talked until the sun came up."

Back then, mom used to soften around the edges whenever I asked to hear the story. She'd pull me into her lap and brush out the knots in my hair, reminiscing about a boy who chose his dreams over her. At some point, that dreamy nostalgia faded out and she'd stop indulging my childish whims.

"Your father was a coward who chose the easy way out," she'd snap before folding into herself on the couch.

I cracked the window letting in a flood of evening air. The low rumble of tires filled the car.

"Could you imagine having a kid right now?" Chris said. In the rearview mirror I saw Nick pretend to stick his finger down his throat like he was throwing up.

"I would rather slam my tongue in a car door repeatedly than be a father at this moment." He shuddered against the thought.

"Do you ever see yourself having kids?" I asked over my shoulder.

I could practically hear him thinking. A muted 'hmm' peeking through the sound of road beneath us.

"Maybe one day," he quipped. "I haven't thought about it much, especially since it's not like I have to worry about knocking a girl up. If you know what I mean."

I could hear the suggestion in his voice and laughed at the image of Nick ten years from now wearing a Hawaiian shirt in a backyard, barbequing some ribs.

"What about you two?" I looked between Matt and Chris.

Chris stared out the window, watching as we drove headlong down the nearly empty highway. "Absolutely. I'd love to have a little girl or boy someday and get to teach them how to ride a bike or swim." There was more he wanted to say. "But, that's a long time from now. Not exactly hitting home runs in the girlfriend department these days," he finished.

"Oh, please," I scoffed, finding his face in the mirror. "You're telling me you don't have a million girls messaging you on Instagram right now hoping for a chance?"

"That's different," he sighed. And I knew what he meant. Yes, there were dozens of girls, if not hundreds, standing by ready to shoot their shot with him, but it wasn't real. Not for him anyway. That's the price you pay for being adored by the world - everyone wants you, but nobody knows you.

I twisted in my seat to get a better look at him. His messy brown hair had an indent from the beanie he'd been wearing earlier and stuck out in all directions. He looked younger, then.

I opened my mouth to speak, then stopped. What could I possibly say that he didn't already know?

"I'm not going to tell you that someday you're going to meet a girl by accident and fall head over heels, spectacularly in love because I think we both know I don't believe in that. But, what I will tell you is that whoever ends up with you Christopher Sturniolo, will be far luckier than anyone could ever hope to be."

I felt the words as I said them, poking his knee in emphasis. He smiled sheepishly and I thought for a moment about how lucky I was to have the chance to know him.

"How about you, mister?" I nudged Matt with my elbow. "Any romantic prospects on the horizon?"

Nick giggled to himself, reaching his hand between the seat to tap Matt on the shoulder. "Yeah, any new romantic developments you'd like to share with the class, Matty?"

Matt swatted his hand off, sticking a middle finger up. I pretended like I didn't hear the insinuation in Nick's voice.

It had been so long I didn't think he'd answer. Eventually, Matt said, "Nothing worth noting." The words casual and steady.

I nodded impassively.

His eyes flicked over to me, then back at Nick in the mirror.

Was I even sure I wanted there to be something more than friendship between us? It wasn't exactly like I'd had the time to think through what that would really mean for me or him. Right now there were a lot of moving parts in my own life. Stepping into his world would be like diving head first off a cliff unsure of what waited for you in the water.

I looked at Matt from the corner of my eye. His body had gone rigid. Habitually, I chewed on the side of my thumb nail.

It was naive to play into this fantasy, even a little. For them, this very well might be another great story to post on the internet, but for me? I was putting everything on the line. And when you didn't have much left, that wasn't just terrifying -- it was reckless.