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"I shipped it. The rest of my stuff should get heretomorrow."
"Tyler!" my stepmom exclaims from behindme.
“Haley. Shit.” Tyler’s voice fills with awe. “Isthat…?”
“Sophie,” she supplies, smiling at the baby tucked into her arms. Her dark hair is extra shiny in thesun.
“You guys did good. Can I hold her? Later, once I’mclean.”
Tyler’s request has my stomach flipping in a not-unpleasantway.
"Of course. The pool house is ready for you,” Haley says, warm and welcoming and oblivious to my inner turmoil before turning to take in my outfit. "You’re going to Carly’s party as Strawberry Shortcake! I loveit."
"How'd you know?" my daddemands.
Haley winks. "I need to put this one down for a nap. See you all fordinner.”
She kisses my dad, patting him on the cheek as she pulls back before he does. She’s the only person who could do it without losing ahand.
When she's gone, Dad says, "I'll give you the codes for the pool house and the garage. Let you getsettled."
“Thanks.” Tyler’s gaze lingers on me as my dad heads down the steps toward the massive garage that houses his Bentley, a black Corvette, Haley's Volvo, and the Audi Dad bought me for my birthday. "Guess I’ll catch up with youlater.”
The questions are burning me from the inside. I want to know why he’s here. How long he’s staying. Why the one person I could talk to about this crazy life stopped answering me when my world rocked on its foundations eight monthsago.
But my dad’s watching, so instead of demanding answers, I let Tylergo.
Fornow.
2
Annie
There’sno right way to call your friend back to apologize for dropping her and explain that there’s a hot guy staying in your poolhouse.
But Itry.
Her million questions spin in my head, but most of them I can’tanswer.
The rest, like what happened the last time I sawTyler…
I’m not readyto.
They circle my head as I change out of the costume and into jean shorts and a tank top. As I get my books ready for school tomorrow. As I go down for dinner, noticing every square foot of the multimillion-dollarmansion.
Despite how long I’ve lived here, it doesn’t quite feel normal. I never met my birth mom growing up, and my dad never talks about her. He got custody when I was still a toddler, and while Dad was touring, I was raised by my aunt and her husband in a modest house with a modestlifestyle.
At the time, they’d decided it would be simpler if I didn’t know Jax Jamieson was my father. He flew me and Aunt Grace to concerts a couple of times a year, where I sat in the front row and screamed for “UncleJax.”
I don’t know when they’d planned to tell me, but it wasn’t when I overheard them talking when I was ten. At that point, there was some turmoil between Grace and her ex-husband, and Jax decided he wantedcustody.
Since then, things have been up and down, at least until my dad and Haley’s wedding lastsummer.
I shove those thoughtsaway.
On paper, I have everything I could want: a huge, crystal-clear pool I swim in daily, a brand new Audi my dad bought me for my birthday lastsummer.
But sometimes I wonder what I’m doing in thisfamily.
