Damaged In-Law Read Online Free PDF

the one
person who might actually understand what I ’ m going
through right now? But by demolished heart can ’ t break any
further in the wake of his disappearance. With cold, unfeeling numbness, I
shuffle after my parents and head off for the reception at my former home.
     
    Chapter Four

     
    “Thank you...Thank you for coming...Thank you so much...” I
mutter on repeat, stuck at the end of the Benson Family receiving line. My
mother ’ s all but glued my feet to the floor here, greeting
guests as they arrive at our cavernous house to nibble on appetizers and talk
around my sister ’ s cause of death. I ’ ve
lost count of how many wrinkled, liver-spotted hands I ’ ve
clutched so far.
    “Would you at least try to sound sincere?” my mother
hisses in my ear.
    I glance at her, all decked out in her spotless black Chanel
suit. My father, Howard, stands beside her, his rich man ’ s
paunch growing as my mother shrinks down to nothing. It occurs to me, and not
for the first time, that Avery and I were never going to be the daughters our
parents wanted. Howard and Sylvia wanted chaste, modest, submissive girls.
Girls who would attend good colleges, if only to meet their husbands. Girls who
would marry, bear grandchildren, and ultimately become just like them. If
nothing else, Avery got to break free of their expectations at the end of her
life. She got to pursue the life she wanted...even if it was cut far shorter
than was fair or right.
    “There he is,” I hear my father ’ s gruff
voice announce. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Jackson.”
    My eyes snap upward as Jack appears at the head of the
receiving line. I was afraid he ’ d left for good after that
dreadful service. My bruised heart leaps into my throat at the sight of him
here once again.
    “Of course, Howard,” Jack says politely, giving my mother a
kiss on the cheek. “If there ’ s anything I can do...”
    “ Not at all, Jackson, ” my mother says
warmly, squeezing Jack ’ s hands. “Just try and keep your
chin up.”
    I let out a wry snort of laughter at my mother ’ s
glib suggestion. The corner of Jack ’ s mouth twists upward
ever-so-slightly. He ’ s good at playing “the boy you bring
home to your parents,” but he ’ s always found this stuffy
scene as absurd as I do.
    “Sounds like you could use a glass of water,” Jack observes,
keeping a straight face as he steps toward me.
    “Yeah. Sure,” I reply, “Only, Mom wants me to stay here—”
    “Please, take her,” Sylvia snaps, turning her attention to
the other guests as they arrive, “She ’ s of absolutely no
use as a hostess.”
    “Right,” Jack nods sagely, swallowing a grin as he lays a
hand on the small of my back and steers me away from my insufferable parents.
My body thrills at this touch, no matter how tiny it is.
    “Now, when you say ‘glass of water ’ ,” I
mutter, stealing a glance at Jack ’ s sculpted profile, “You
really mean ‘vodka tonic ’ , right?”
    “Obviously,” he replies, leading me straight to the
impressive bar my parents have set up across the great room. That signature
lopsided grin of his is starting to come back to his face, little by little.
    I watch, impressed, as Jack sets to work on our drinks,
moving like a real pro. He catches me watching him and asks, “Admiring my
form?”
    “Just wouldn ’ t have figured you for the
mixologist type,” I say lightly, accepting my drink and taking a long sip. It ’ s perfect.
    “I did my fair share of bar tending when I first moved to
New York,” he tells me, “Back when I was a super-serious and very broke
theater actor.”
    “ You had a day job?” I laugh, strolling toward the
deserted grand staircase, away from the rest of the guests.
    “Of course,” Jack replies, sipping his cocktail, “Those
Manhattan rents are no joke.” He spots my surprised look, seeing right through
me. “Ah. You assumed I was being bankrolled by my parents the whole time, is
that right