Chapter 13, no dinner, just heartbreak

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Camilla-

" So this is the living room, and that the grand piano Daddy brought for Hailie when she wanted to learn to play piano . . ." Whitney points to the prettiest, biggest piano I have ever seen in my life.

 My mouth drops open," Oh," I say, and turn to Hailie, "Can you play?" I ask smiling.

She looks up from her phone and opens her mouth to answer, but Whitney interrupts, "No, she tried to learn, but said her teacher was a meany, an didn't want to play anymore."

I look at Whitney surprised, " I'm sure she picked up something."

She looks at me funny, " Hailie was trying to learn how to play the piano, to to learn to pick up something silly goose!" She  swings my hand and smiles a me.

"No," I smile back and pick her up and swing her around, " I mean I'm sure she learned to play something in that amount of time!" 

Whitney giggles," Maybe, but I was just a baby when that happened!" She gets down from my arms and  drags me forward to the kitchen. 

"No," says a voice behind me, and I turn my head, and there is Laney glaring at Hailie.

"What?" I ask, fully turning around. Marshall  who  has not said a word, letting Whiteney play hostess looks a Laney too.

"She quit after one lesson, and Uncle Marshall payed $2,050 dollars for that piano. He only got it for her, and she only used it once." 

We all look at her speechless until Marshall says something. 

"Laney!" He he says sort of calmly.

"What it's true, you love Hailie better than me, and better than Whitney, it's true and you know it! Hailie gets everything she wants!" Laney yells this like a five year old, and runs up the grand- very grand staircase, and slams a door.

"Daddy is that true you love Hailie more than me?" Whitney whispers, eyes full of tears, clutching my hand.

Marshall looks at her, " No baby, no." he tries to hug her, but she too runs up the stairs, a door opens and also slams.

Hailie simply walks away, leaving me and Marshall.

I twist the ring on my finger, " So . . . dinner . . . . ?"

"You know," He says, looking up the stairs, and then at his hand that are covered with ink, " Maybe I'm not ready to date right now . . ." He trails off, not looking at me.

My heart sinks, and I look at the staircase too, " You know I think your right," and I turn, open the door and leave, the heart breaking in every step. 


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