Page 11 of Sunshine with You


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I grab an apple from the fruit bowl on the gold-veined marble island and head to the TV lounge. Sinking into the plush sectional, I turn on the sports network and pull out my phone as a distraction. I don’t plan to focus on the TV, but the sound has a way of calming the rapid-fire thoughts that constantly buzz through my consciousness. My mind is a vast wasteland of noise: never quiet and always chasing stimulation.

I don’t know how long I’ve been scrolling, but the sun is dipping below the skyline when I hear the garage door open. Draping my arm across the back of the sofa, I wave at Dad when he walks in with a few boxes of Chinese takeout—his bad news meal. He looks exhausted from a long day at the office, with worry lines creasing his deep umber skin.

“Uh-oh.” I nod to the boxes he’s arranging on the kitchen island. “The company’s going under? We’re about to lose it all?” I tease.

“Funny,” he mumbles, pulling plates and utensils out. Dad is the co-founder of EdTechU, one of the top educational technology companies in the country. They just expanded overseas. There’s no way the company is going anywhere anytime soon.

“So, what’s with the Doom Dinner?” I walk to the kitchen and sit on one of the barstools.

“Hey, Dad,” Artemis says, coming down the stairs. She wraps her arms around him, and he kisses the top of her head.

“How was practice, Artie-girl?”

“Good. Coach was on us for losing the last game though. My legs still feel like jelly.”

“So, what’s with the Doom Dinner?” I ask again, not interested in listening to them go back and forth about improving her game and being a team player. I’m bored already and itching to get out of here.

Dad rubs his chin, his green eyes staring at me longer than is necessary. That recessive gene of his staked its claim in all of his kids—me, Kayla, and Artemis. I tap my foot on the stool, feeling antsy holding his gaze. Judging by his delayed response, he knows I won’t be happy about whatever he has to share. He finally glances at Artemis before looking down at his plate. “Your mother is coming for the holidays this year…”

“Ugh,” I groan.

“Yay!” Artie shouts at the same time.

I don’t deal with my mom any more than I have to, which usually means a phone call from her on my birthday and a short text exchange from me on hers. Even though it’s been a decade, I still blame her for the divorce. It’s childish as hell, but I can’t stand to look at her.

Dad’s still staring at his plate, mulling something over.

“Is that it?” I press.

“She’ll be staying with Theron in the guest house for the six weeks she’s here.”

“Here?” I ask, not even trying to hide the disgust in my voice. The thought of being in the same vicinity of Mom zaps any excitement I could feel about seeing my younger half brother again. “Did you open up a bed-and-breakfast back there I don’t know about?”

“Hunter—”

“Nils agreed to that?” My mother’s husband and Theron’s dad, Nils Johansson, is a Swedish Olympic skier who has been known to rent out entire hotel floors in the past.Why do they need to spend six weeks holed up in the backyard?

“She and Nils have separated…”

I don’t miss what he said, but I steamroll past it, letting the festering anger over my mother propel me. Standing, I grip the cool edge of the island until I feel it digging into my palms. “How are you okay with this, Dad? Have you forgotten how bad it was? I can’t believe?—”

“Lower your voice, and sit back down, son,” he says with a level voice. Kendall Jackson doesn’t yell. He doesn’t need to. His presence can go from friendly to intimidating with just the look in his eye and a whispered bass tone. I sit, swallowing the rest of my rant as I look past him, out the window to the guest house in the backyard. Even at the age of twenty-six, I know not to press him. “Of course I remember, but our marriage was over long before she left. It’s been ten years, Hunter. Staying angry about it has no benefit, and she’s still your mother.”

“Naw, not mine. Artie and Theron can have her.” I shake my head, reaching for the carton of orange chicken.

“When are they coming?” Artemis asks, bouncing in her seat.

“In a few weeks. From Thanksgiving to New Year’s.”

“Way to ruin the holidays, Charlotte,” I say to no one but myself.

Dad clears his throat. One glance and I take the hint, drop my head, and eat.

CHAPTER SIX

ASHLIE

“Idon’t understand how he can let her walk back in like nothing happened.” Hunter huffs across the table at Lunch-a-Bunch, slumped in the patio chair. We’re one of the only tables out here today.