Read Online Promise Me by Barbie Bohrman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbie Bohrman
Tags: Contemporary
Ads: Link
me. Then the screen door props open again and I look up to see my dad coming towards me. His large frame lumbers across the front yard briskly. My dad is usually very soft spoken and lets my mom's vibrant personality take the spotlight quite often. Today is no different. I spy his grey eyes light up at the sight of me through the veil of my mom's hair while she's still hugging me. That is, until he wants to cut in and she finally steps aside.
"Let the girl breathe," he says to my mom before he picks me up into a bear hug. "Welcome home, baby girl."
"Daddy, I can't breathe," I try to say but sounds more mushed together since he has me pinned in his arms like he's the Crocodile Hunter.
"Sorry," he says with the biggest grin I've ever seen on his face, "we're just so happy to have you home, is all."
Before I can protest, my dad grabs all of my bags from the trunk and carries them directly into the house. My mom ushers me in right behind him and when I cross the threshold I feel like I've been transported back in time. Not one single thing has changed. The furniture, the paint color, everything... it's exactly the same. If this is any indication, I'm afraid to check out my old room. I say as much to my mom, but she ignores it and continues talking a mile a minute. Stopping long enough for me to get a word in, I ask her about our dinner plans for tonight.
"We made reservations at The Roadhouse, your old favorite, at 7:30."
"Thanks, Mom," and kiss her on the cheek, letting her know that I'm going to take my bags to my room. I glance at the clock on top of the fireplace and hope that I might be able to get another nap in before we head out since the one I took on the plane isn't quite cutting it.
Opening the door to my old bedroom and dropping the bags on my bed I look around the room. The corkboard over my desk still has all my concert tickets tacked on it along with several famous artist postcards that I used to collect, including my favorite that I use to keep taped in my locker, " Blue Nude " by Pablo Picasso. I've since bought the print in a larger size and it currently sits in my office at the gallery. I smile at all the other items that are still on my desk, as if they've been waiting for me to come home too. "I can do this," I say to myself, and walk back over to my luggage to begin unpacking.
A quick power nap and I feel rejuvenated as I start to get ready for dinner. After I blow dry my hair straight, I decide on a pair of black linen shorts, white tank top, and a red short sleeved cardigan, just in case I get chilly at the restaurant. I slip on my black wedged sandals and a pair of silver hooped earrings, then grab my clutch to head out to dinner with my parents.
The drive to The Roadhouse takes all of ten minutes and since we have reservations, we're seated quickly. Our table is dead center of the restaurant, easily allowing me a full view of every other diner in the place. I recognize a few people and they wave politely and nod their heads in acknowledgment. I smile and find that I'm surprised by my reaction to being home. I honestly thought I would hate it already, but it's actually... nice. A wave of relief washes over me so I sit back and start to peruse the menu in front of me.
As the waiter finishes writing down our dinner order, I hear a loud gasp and then in an almost shrieking voice, "Sabrina Chandler, is that you? Oh my God, it is!"
I tilt my head towards the hostess stand and see Lauren Callahan, a fellow 2001 Skippack High School graduate and from what I remember, self proclaimed gossip hound, pointing at me in disbelief.
She rushes over, completely ignoring the stares that have now been garnered by every single person in here. Even the kids that were absentmindedly playing on their electronic devices have put them down in an effort to see what is going on. "I can't believe it, you're actually here for the reunion!"
My parents look so uncomfortable by the attention, so I nod at her question and
"Let the girl breathe," he says to my mom before he picks me up into a bear hug. "Welcome home, baby girl."
"Daddy, I can't breathe," I try to say but sounds more mushed together since he has me pinned in his arms like he's the Crocodile Hunter.
"Sorry," he says with the biggest grin I've ever seen on his face, "we're just so happy to have you home, is all."
Before I can protest, my dad grabs all of my bags from the trunk and carries them directly into the house. My mom ushers me in right behind him and when I cross the threshold I feel like I've been transported back in time. Not one single thing has changed. The furniture, the paint color, everything... it's exactly the same. If this is any indication, I'm afraid to check out my old room. I say as much to my mom, but she ignores it and continues talking a mile a minute. Stopping long enough for me to get a word in, I ask her about our dinner plans for tonight.
"We made reservations at The Roadhouse, your old favorite, at 7:30."
"Thanks, Mom," and kiss her on the cheek, letting her know that I'm going to take my bags to my room. I glance at the clock on top of the fireplace and hope that I might be able to get another nap in before we head out since the one I took on the plane isn't quite cutting it.
Opening the door to my old bedroom and dropping the bags on my bed I look around the room. The corkboard over my desk still has all my concert tickets tacked on it along with several famous artist postcards that I used to collect, including my favorite that I use to keep taped in my locker, " Blue Nude " by Pablo Picasso. I've since bought the print in a larger size and it currently sits in my office at the gallery. I smile at all the other items that are still on my desk, as if they've been waiting for me to come home too. "I can do this," I say to myself, and walk back over to my luggage to begin unpacking.
A quick power nap and I feel rejuvenated as I start to get ready for dinner. After I blow dry my hair straight, I decide on a pair of black linen shorts, white tank top, and a red short sleeved cardigan, just in case I get chilly at the restaurant. I slip on my black wedged sandals and a pair of silver hooped earrings, then grab my clutch to head out to dinner with my parents.
The drive to The Roadhouse takes all of ten minutes and since we have reservations, we're seated quickly. Our table is dead center of the restaurant, easily allowing me a full view of every other diner in the place. I recognize a few people and they wave politely and nod their heads in acknowledgment. I smile and find that I'm surprised by my reaction to being home. I honestly thought I would hate it already, but it's actually... nice. A wave of relief washes over me so I sit back and start to peruse the menu in front of me.
As the waiter finishes writing down our dinner order, I hear a loud gasp and then in an almost shrieking voice, "Sabrina Chandler, is that you? Oh my God, it is!"
I tilt my head towards the hostess stand and see Lauren Callahan, a fellow 2001 Skippack High School graduate and from what I remember, self proclaimed gossip hound, pointing at me in disbelief.
She rushes over, completely ignoring the stares that have now been garnered by every single person in here. Even the kids that were absentmindedly playing on their electronic devices have put them down in an effort to see what is going on. "I can't believe it, you're actually here for the reunion!"
My parents look so uncomfortable by the attention, so I nod at her question and
Similar Books
