Mai Tai'd Up Read Online Free PDF

“Chloe, baby, come on. Let’s go talk this out, okay? We can still make this happen today—you know you want to, don’t you? You know it’s the right thing—”
    All of these conversations were happening at the same time while I was pawing at the glass door like a cat trying to get out of a window. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, why won’t this door open !”
    Silence. Total silence. Even the birds had stopped chirping. My mother and father were frozen in their all-too-familiar antagonistic pose, while Charles stood in the driveway with his hands raised, looking like Jesus at the Last Supper.
    The latch finally clicked, and the door slid open.
    “I’m going inside. No one is following me. I’ll talk about this tomorrow.” I started to go in, when I caught Charles’s eye. And saw his expression. Frustration, yes. Irritation, the beginnings of it, yes. Deep, profound anguish that the love of his life had just told him she wasn’t marrying him? Not even the slightest hint. Still . . .
    “I really am very sorry,” I said, to him and only to him. And then I went inside.
    And threw up donuts and beer.
    I thought there was no way I’d sleep that night, but I slept like a baby. And when I woke up and saw a note from my father on the nightstand that he’d gone on a bagel run, I smiled, rolled over, and went back to sleep. And when I heard my dad whistling as he made coffee a half hour later, I got up and went downstairs with a smile on my face.
    Which fell as soon as I saw a brand-new iPhone sitting at my place at the table. “What’s this?” I asked, slumping into my chair.
    “What does it look like?” he promptly replied from behind his newspaper.
    “Dad. Come on, seriously.”
    “I stopped by the store this morning, got you a new phone. Is that what you’re referring to?” The newspaper rustled.
    I looked down at the phone, thinking hard. “But I threw my old one in—”
    “—the ocean, I know. Try not to do that again, would you, kiddo? You have any idea how expensive these phones are?”
    I pushed the phone, and my place mat, away. But then tugged it back to get to the orange juice. The newspaper rustled.
    “I didn’t want to talk to anybody . . .” I mumbled, and my father finally appeared from behind the paper.
    “I realize that, but you made a decision yesterday that affects a lot of people. And you need to explain it, specifically to some of those people.”
    “But I thought you understood . . .” I began, my eyes filling with tears for the first time since I’d bolted yesterday.
    “I understood that you didn’t want to get married, and noway was I going to force you into that. But I don’t understand why, and neither does your mother,” he said, laying down his paper and looking at me over the top of his glasses. “And neither does Charles.”
    I winced.
    “You don’t have to marry him, but you do need to explain your actions yesterday. You owe them both that much.”
    And with a rustle of paper, the voice of reason disappeared once more behind the financial section. Call Charles. Hmm. I could do this. I could do this. I picked up the phone, then put it down. Yikes. What was I going to say? What could I say? How could I tell him why, when I wasn’t 100 percent sure myself? I picked up the phone again, then put it down again.
    The third time I reached for it, the voice behind the paper said, “For goodness’ sake, Chloe, I think you can have breakfast before you explain yourself. Go get a bagel and stop fidgeting.”
    Reprieved. I exhaled gratefully and headed for the toaster oven. I knew couldn’t dodge those two much longer. But did you know that if you pick off every single sesame seed and every single garlic crispy thingie from an everything bagel before you eat it, it can take over an hour? Especially if you count the poppy seeds too . . .
    B y noon, I’d listened to all the messages that had poured in yesterday. Starting with the first, “Chloe, you turn right