Page 3 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Maddy

Iunlock the door to my luxury apartment on the edge of downtown Denver. The second I walk through the door, my fluffy Himalayan cat Bruce rubs against my ankles.

“You miss me, buddy? I was only gone a few hours.” He aims his adorable brown face up at me and meows.

I smile and reach down to give his ears a scratch. He follows me as I walk into the living room and drop my bag on the couch, meowing the whole time.

“So impatient.” I head over to the kitchen and open his treat drawer. I grab a few cat treats and drop them on the ground. He gobbles them up.

I chuckle as I crouch down and pet his fluffy white body. “Always hungry.”

My phone rings and I walk over to grab it from my bag. When I see it’s my dad calling, I sigh. That familiar tension grips me. I don’t really want to talk to him. He’s going to ask me how my meeting with Ryker went, and I don’t want to tell him how bad it was.

I contemplate ignoring him and letting his call go to voicemail, but a tinge of guilt hits. I don’t know why. He’s done way more terrible things, and he doesn’t seem all that guilty about any of them.

I answer the phone.

“Madeline. Hi.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“How did your meeting with Ryker go?”

“It went okay.”

“Just okay?”

I tense up at the pressing tone of his voice. I can tell he’s holding back. He’s so used to speaking in a firm, direct tone. That’s how he talks to everyone in his life—staff, employees, friends.

He’s different with me, though. He tries to soften his tone. He’s trying to sound like a concerned dad. I hate it.

“He wasn’t happy that I don’t have any coaching or teaching experience,” I say.

He sighs. “I’m sure his opinion will change once he starts working with you.”

I contemplate telling him that Ryker is outright refusing to work with me, but I hold back. I don’t want to deal with that mess right now. And I don’t want to make this conversation any longer than it has to be.

“What time should I send the driver to pick you up to take you to the airport?” he asks.

“I’m not going with you to Aspen,” I say, annoyed that he’s pushing this trip on me.

He’s quiet for a long second, and for the briefest moment, that guilty feeling sparks up inside of me once more.

And then, just like I have a million times before, I silently wish that things were different. That my dad and I could have a normal relationship, that we could talk to each other like dads and daughters do, with love and humor and ease.

But it won’t ever be that way. Because we’re not normal.

“I was hoping you’d come, Madeline. We all were. Preston and Claire were really looking forward to seeing you.”

I hold back a bitter laugh. “We both know that’s not true. Please don’t lie. And please don’t invite me to things if you know they’ll be there. They don’t want to be around me.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “They take a while to warm up to people, Madeline.”

This time, I don’t stop the bitter chuckle that falls from my mouth. “A while? They’ve hated me for my whole life.”

“Madeline. Don’t say that. Your brother and sister don’t hate you.”

“Half-brother. Half-sister,” I correct.

“You know I don’t think of you as their half-sister, Madeline. You’re siblings. You’re all my kids.”

Frustration and raw pain simmer beneath my hard tone. “Actually, I don’t know that, Dad. You treated me very differently from them. Probably because I was born as a result of your affair with my mom, while you were still married to their mom.”

I swallow back the lump in my throat. Every time he brings this up, it always ends this way: him claiming he loves us all equally. Me remembering the ways he doesn’t.

And every time, it kills me. Because it’s another reminder of how unwanted I am. How I’m not good enough—not for the Olympics, not for figure skating, not even for my own family.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “It was…complicated navigating things with Preston and Claire and their mom, and then you and your mom.”

I swallow again, keeping my voice steady. “I bet it was.”

He exhales sharply at my biting comment.

Financially, my dad gave me more than enough.

He paid tens of thousands of dollars for me in child support every month.

He paid for my private school tuition and my college tuition.

He paid for all of my figure skating lessons and the expenses that came with it.

He gifted me this apartment for my twenty-first birthday.

And now that my figure skating career is over, he secured this job that I don’t even deserve.

But he didn’t treat me like his other kids.

Growing up, I saw him once or twice a year.

He didn’t tuck me in at night. He didn’t drive me to school.

He didn’t know my friend’s names or what my favorite cartoon was or that I had a pet bunny named Oreo or that I’m allergic to mint.

He didn’t come to any of my school events or figure skating competitions.

Except for the Winter Olympics, when I blew my shot at gold and had a breakdown for the entire world to see.

Tears burn my eyes at how he was there for every moment in Preston and Claire’s lives, but not mine.

Over the past few years, he’s tried to get closer to me. He’s invited me to holiday dinners and trips. I’ve gone a couple of times, but it’s always the same—awkward tension and thinly veiled insults from my older half-siblings about how I’m the outsider.

“Can we go to lunch or something after the holidays? Just the two of us?”

There’s a hint of pleading in his tone that makes my chest ache.

“Maybe. I’m going to be really busy with this new job.”

“I understand,” he says quietly. “So you’re seeing your mom for Christmas then?”

“Yeah. I’ll see her tonight and tomorrow morning.”

I think about the two of them as a couple, how short-lived their relationship was.

She was a young, naive woman charmed by a rich older man. She didn’t even know he was married because he lied to her and said he was separated. And then she got pregnant with me and thought he would commit to her. He didn’t. He wasn’t willing to give up his perfect life for his side piece.

And that’s my origin story. An unwanted, inconvenient distraction from the moment I was born. Just something to throw money at and pay attention to whenever it was convenient for him.

A tense silence follows. “Merry Christmas, Madeline,” he finally says in a sad voice.

“Merry Christmas.”

We hang up, and I blink away the tears pooling in my eyes. Bruce rubs his fluffy body against my ankles again. I scoop him up and kiss his fur while he purrs like a motor, then sit on the couch. The louder he purrs, the less sad I feel. Nothing comforts quite like cat cuddles.

My phone buzzes with a text from my mom.

Mom: Merry Christmas Eve, darlin’! Guess what I’m making for our appetizer extravaganza?

I smile at my phone.

Me: Cheese soufflé?

Mom: Oh god, no. I’d burn down the house trying to make that. We’re having…jalapeno poppers! And smoked salmon dip!

Me: Wow fancy!

Mom: I got two bottles of champagne too. Think that’ll be enough for our movie marathon? We’ve gotta make it through It’s A Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, and Elf.

Me: I think that’ll be plenty. I’m a lightweight, remember?

Mom: :) Can’t wait to cuddle with Brucey boy on the couch and my favorite daughter.

Me: Your only daughter.

Mom: My FAVORITE daughter

Me: See you soon, Mom. Love you.

Mom: Love you, darlin

I smile at my phone. Things with my dad and my new job may be a disaster, but every time I talk to my mom, I remember how loved I am. That’s all I need.