I nearly back down under the weight of his anger. “Why does anyone have to be the bad guy?”
“They don’t.”
“But you’re saying I am. Or Needy is,” I say, getting my back up and raising my voice. “You’re saying we’re the bad guys because we’ve inconvenienced you. You’re not pointing fingers at the person who sent away a scared, young woman who was pregnant with your kid. You’re not blaming them for this inconvenience, let alone for you missing out on knowing me. You think I’m the idiot for not having the courage to be honest when it was more convenient for you.”
A frustrated Lowell rubs his bearded jaw roughly. He knew I was coming here. Why didn’t he come up with better shit to say? Will he blame me for that, too? Or his wife for inviting us? Or maybe that’s also my mom’s fault?
“I don’t know what you want,” he says, sighing.
“I wanted you to love me and be my dad like the other kids got,” I say, and my voice breaks. “I wanted all the stupid stuff I wanted when I was a kid. I wanted you to save me and make the world comfortable. But those are stupid things, and they’re never going to happen. I realized that last night and wanted to leave Elko. Then, Conor asked me to stay, and I couldn’t tell him no. Now, I don’t want to leave because he’s Conor, and I want to see what he does next.”
I glance into the house, where Conor stares out at us. His overly intense expression makes me smile. He’s such a ham, but he knows I’m sinking, and his cool vibe is my lifejacket.
“I’m sorry, Monroe, but this shit happened too fast,” Lowell says, sensing I’m about to walk away. “I’m not a guy that has kids show up. I don’t know how to process all this shit. If you need help or money, I’ll offer it. But you have to give me a chance to adjust.”
Sighing, I shake my head. “Or we can act like none of this happened. That’s what you really want.”
“You don’t know what I want since you don’t know me. You just know what your mom told you.”
Hearing him mention Needy relights my temper. “I noticed how you referred to my being in your life as ‘this shit’ twice. That’s how it feels to you. You’re trapped in this horrible situation and can’t escape. Well, I’m offering you an exit. I knew since last night that what I wanted from you wasn’t happening. Finding out Needy was telling the truth is enough of a prize for all this inconvenience.”
“Stop using that word.”
“Or what?” I ask, frowning at him in the way I did with Uncle Clive when I felt suicidal. “You can’t kill me because of Conor.”
“Why would I want to kill you?”
“Like you said, I don’t know you.”
“I feel as if you’re pissed and looking to start shit.”
“I feel as if you’re doing the same thing. The only reason I’m here is that Topanga invited me. That’s why you’re acting awkward and pissy.”
“You’re the one acting pissy. However, I’ll own up to the awkward thing.”
“I want to go back inside and make nice with Topanga and then leave.”
“Why make nice with her?” he asks, suspicious once again.
“Because she has a big mouth and a strong personality. I know Conor’s mom will hate me, so I figure I shouldn’t make Topanga an enemy.”
“Why would Barbie hate you?”
“I’m fucking her son. Is she usually super nice to the women that her only son jizzes inside?”
Okay, now I’m actively trying to screw with Lowell. I’ll own up to that fact as much as he owned up to his awkwardness. What do I care, though? Maybe I could pretend he wasn’t full of shit with his nice-guy routine if he made a real effort to sell the lie. Of course, he can’t, though. Having me as a daughter grosses him out that fucking much.
I walk past Lowell and toward the door where Conor still wears his silly, overly serious face. When I open the door, he allows a smile.
“Have you ever missed me more than these last few minutes?” he whispers after leaning down to nuzzle my ear.
I turn my head, so my lips slide across his. The brief touch awakens something in his green eyes. Underneath the teasing demeanor burns a darker need.
“Can we leave?”
“No,” he says, holding my gaze. “Topanga wants to talk about the party, and Dunning will soon emerge from his room like a groundhog and share how long winter will be.”
When I look into Conor’s bedroom eyes, life is a wonderland, and I’m its queen. But the world doesn’t reside in Conor. Billions of other people exist. The majority don’t give a shit if I live or die. While a handful would be happiest with the latter result.
“Dunning, come over and meet Monroe,” Topanga announces, her voice echoing in the two-story family room.
I think to mention how we’ve already met but talking to Lowell zapped my energy.
“We met,” Dunning says, shuffling over to me.
My little brother is close to six feet already. His body looks older than seventeen, but he still has a soft, young face.
“Oh, that’s right,” Topanga says, playing with the boy’s messy dark blond hair before forcing him into a hug. “Want to say hello to your sister?”
“Hello, Monroe.”
“Hello, Dunning.”
“No need to be awkward,” Topanga says. “You two are blood.”
“I’m not awkward. I got lucky,” he mutters at his mother. “Summer ended up with a baby half-sister who cries and shits her pants. I got one that’s already potty trained.”
“Glass half full,” Topanga says, nodding. “He gets that from me.”
“So, is she moving in here?”
“No,” I say, sending Topanga’s big lips downward.
“Why not? Better than at the apartment with the bunnies.”
“I like my apartment and my roommate. We play ping pong and have movie nights.”
Topanga frowns at my words. Maybe it’s my tone. I sound like a sullen teenager.
“We have a pool table,” Topanga says.
“Fair point,” Conor interrupts. “So many great points, really, but I think you’re jumping over a few steps.”
“And what would those be?” Topanga asks, losing her smile.
“Monroe just got settled into the Overlook. She’s living on her own for the first time. Lots of chick time with the bunnies. Now, you want her to move again. Sounds like she’ll end up feeling bitchy in your house.”
“Yeah, I don’t need that,” Dunning announces. “Where would she even sleep?”
“In one of the guest rooms.”
“Pick the basement,” Dunning tells me. “More privacy.”
“I have my own room at the Overlook.”
“Yes, but those are for the bunnies,” Topanga says, pretending to be friendly but clearly irritated about my pushback. “You’re Lowell’s daughter and Conor’s honey.”
“True, true,” Conor says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “We’re very hot for each other. It’s why you need to turn down the heater. Our animal magnetism is setting the place on fire.”