Everywhere, Everything. ★ STURNIOLO TRIPLETS

CHAPTER EIGHT

The first half hour of our drive was quiet. Chris and Nick whispered amongst themselves in the backseat while Matt stole glances in my direction every few minutes to make sure I wasn't crying again.

Speed limit signs blurred into streaks of light as our headlights passed. I sat with my forehead pressed to the window.

Earlier, we'd agreed to spend tonight and tomorrow at the boys' family cabin only a few hours East.

"Unless you'd rather go straight there," Matt said. But I wasn't in any rush to face the truth.

Ever since we'd decided to take this trip I'd been playing out every possible scenario in my head. First, it was best case: my father would open the door, immediately recognize my face and take me into his arms where we'd cry together and he'd say he's waited for this moment his whole life. Then, of course, there was the worst case scenario which entailed him spitting in my face and telling me to never contact him again. Though, I'd like to believe he wouldn't actually spit in my face.

I sat up, and Matt reached for the volume dial on the radio. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged, lifting my legs onto the seat and pulling them to my chest. "I thought I'd be a little more excited, if I'm honest. But all I keep thinking about are the 'what ifs.'"

"I think how you're feeling is completely valid," Nick said from the backseat. "This is a big, possibly life-changing, decision!" His voice went shrill. "I'm nervous for you."

I pulled my knees closer to my chest and shot him a look. "Thanks."

He lifted his arms as if to say well?

"All I'm saying is you have every right to be a little on guard." He paused. "What do you know about your dad?"

I shifted in my seat. There wasn't a whole lot I could remember from before he left, and even less about what mom mentioned after he'd gone. There were a few faint memories that would come back to me, but they were so blurry it was like looking through water.

I dug my phone out of my bag and pulled up a Facebook page. "This is him." I handed the phone to Nick whose jaw practically fell on the carpeted backseat floor. If we were in a cartoon you would've seen hearts popping out of his eyes.

"Ooh, he's handsome," he gawked. "Look at that jawline!"

"Let me see!" Chris snatched the phone out of Nick's hand, squinting at the screen. "This guy is at least double your age."

"Just how I like 'em," he said, propping his hands under his chin.

I groaned in protest. Ew. "Oh my God, please never say that about my dad again."

I stuck my hand out for the phone. Chris took one more look then handed it over.

"Nick's right, though. The man is handsome. I can only imagine what your mom looks like."

Nick clicked his tongue at Chris, swatting his arm. "Ow! What? I didn't mean it like that!" he defended, rubbing his tricep.

I grimaced. He might not have meant it in a your mom must be a milf kind of way, but the thought of any of them finding my mother attractive made my skin crawl.

I glanced down at the picture still on the screen. I'd studied it, and all the others on his account, for weeks, picking apart his features and trying to rearrange them to match mine. He had the same dark hair, but kept his trimmed close to the sides of his head with short, tousled waves falling perfectly along his forehead. He was in his early forties with a dazzling business man smile that cut off at least five years. For a corporate lawyer, that probably only helped in the courtroom.