AllFreeNovel
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I sit down at the head of the table and grunt.
“Try them,” Alex says, blinking up at me. “Come on, please?”
June’s attempt at stifling a smile isn’t working. She sits down too, reaching out to the vase of bluebells she’s put on the table as a centerpiece. She’s wrapped yet another one of those yellow ribbons around the vase.
“Come on,” Alex pleads.
I can tell my daughter is in high spirits. She’s happier than I’ve seen her in a while. I despise pickles, but I spear one with my fork and insert it between my lips.
It’s vile. Crispy pickle is somehow worse than regular pickle. I chew slowly and force myself to make an appreciative noise.
Alex claps her hands. “See? I knew you would like them.”
But June is onto me. She gives me a knowing look, her lips tilting upward at the sides. Is she trying to fuck with me? June knows I don’t like pickles.
It’s time to change the topic before she victimizes me with another serving. I cut into my chicken fried steak. “Have a good day?”
“It was great! June and I did our nails, and tomorrow we’re going shopping.”
“Oh?” I glance over at June.
“Sorry,” she says. “I was going to ask you first, but, uh, Alex needs some stuff.”
“Stuff?”
Alex colors red.
“Feminine products,” June says.
“Oh.” I nod. “Sure, okay. Yeah. I’ll leave my card here for you to use. You get whatever you need.”
An awkward silence follows, and I fill it by eating. The food is amazing—barring the pickles. A part of me hoped it would be shit, just so June could be a little less perfect than she already is.
“How was your day?” June asks.
I stare at her, chewing. “Fine.”
She breaks eye contact and smiles at Alex across the table.
I consider taking my food into the living room just to be away from her. I can’t think. Distraction. I just need a distraction. “You hear back about that slumber party?” I ask my daughter.
“Not yet, Dad. Maybelle hasn’t sent out invitations yet.”
“Thought you said it was this weekend.”
Alex shrugs and shoves a forkful of mashed potato into her mouth. She chews slowly.
Shit. Somehow, I’ve fucked up dinner. When I got home, they were laughing and smiling, and now the table is as quiet as a tomb.
June clears her throat. “Should we put on some music?” she asks, half rising out of her chair.
“No,” I say, and place my hand on her arm. Touching her is a bad idea, and I release her again.
“Dad doesn’t like to listen to the radio,” Alex says. “In case they play his songs. He doesn’t like country music anymore.”
I stiffen but don’t correct her.
June frowns, gnaws on her lush bottom lip, lowers herself back into her chair. “Oh.”
