Chapter 6

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The oven blared its alarm.

I freaked.

"Wait!" I breathed, "Calm down, Alexa. It's just the oven."

I ran over to grab an oven mitt and retrieve my batch of cookies from the hot depths. Once I set them out to cool, I looked around at my kitchen to see if there was anything else I could put in the oven. Anything other than my work files. They weren't flammable, according to Zane.

I did try though. It was already Wednesday night—two days before my big assignment, and to say I was on edge was an understatement. Over the past week of preparations, Zane kept dumping more and more files on my desk, even though I was pretty sure that it was supposed to be the other way around. Very quickly, I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information I had to memorize just to sit around and say nothing at the conference.

I had tried pacing while memorizing the information. That worked...for the first ten minutes, and then I became distracted by the New York City skyline that I was convinced I hadn't properly appreciated yet. So, I stared at it, and possibly my phone, for an hour.

After that attempt, I tried to move my materials into the kitchen for a different scenery than my bedroom. And for fifteen whole minutes, I was utterly inspired.

But then I moved on to making as much food as possible without actually leaving to go to the grocery store.

Spread across my counter were cookies, brownies, brookies, banana bread, cake, and a pie.

Would it be bragging to say I had picked up some things back at college when I was supposed to be studying for midterms?

Exhausted by that effort and feeling uninspired to clean the pans, I retired to my couch. Thankfully, my phone had been charging during my second break down.

As I was glancing at my Instagram, a text case across. From my mother.

Against my better judgement, I clicked on it.

It is WEDNESDAY NIGHT. Are you studying? So help me Alexa if you are doing that thing where u pretend to drown yourself in a bubble bath instead of studying, I will come down and kick u out of this apartment myself!! You are already an embarrassment. Don't screw this up!

-Mom

I scowled angrily. I knew I'd regret telling her.

Frustrated, I cocked my arm to chuck my phone at the couch pillows, but then I was stopped by it's sudden vibration. I pulled it down.

It was my father calling.

I flared my nostrils. I wasn't on speaking terms with him either. Not by a long shot. And not until the next lifetime.

A couple nights ago I was checking Facebook, and I saw a message scroll across Congratulating my father, and mentioning me. After the divorce where I chose my mother over him, we both unfollowed each other. But, piqued by what my father could have done that deemed him worthy of congratulations, I went to check his Facebook. It was there I saw a flood of pictures.

Of his wedding. To the girl he cheated on my mom with.

And that I had not been invited to.

Seth was there. Her children were there. The whole fucking town was there. I was not. Plain and simple.

Naturally after that, I had sent a rather scathing voicemail to him renouncing him as my father.

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