Page 144 of Make Me Laugh

We’re left alone in the empty theater. “You love her, don’t you?” Dad asks.

I open my mouth to answer, but there’s no point. If he’s asking, he already knows. I laugh and cross my arms.

“Oh, man, you’re a goner.” He’s smiling wide, wearing the dimples we share.

“I’ve never felt anything like this before.” That’s only the tip of the iceberg, but I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to say when my heart has a twenty-four-hour countdown with a bomb strapped to it. “But she’s too smart to stick around and run my social media forever.” And maybe she’s too smart to stick around with me.

“Is that the only reason you want her around?” he asks.

My eyebrows scrunch. “Of course not.”

Dad stares like he’s solving a puzzle. “Then what’s the problem?”

The problem is… The problem is… Fuck!

The problem is I fell in love with the most stubborn woman on the face of the planet, and if she says she’s going to do something, she’s going to do it—even if it kills her. Or me.

More exclamation points pop up every few days on her list, proof that Joey’s still fighting with herself.

3. Do not fall for West fucking Isakson!!!!!!!

The use of my last name has always stood out to me. Not West fucking Parker… West fucking Isakson. The real me.

West Parker is the part of me the world gets to see, with bits and pieces of the real West sprinkled in. He’s the flirtatious hunk in a backwards hat who makes sex jokes and is known to get himself involved with a MILF or two.

West Isakson is the obsessed lunatic who buys a HexedHeroine T-shirt off a sketchy resale site for $100 in hopes it would give Joey a reason to talk to him again after knowing her for approximately twenty minutes.

“She got her dream job back in Boston. She starts after the first of the year.” It’s the easiest, most straight-forward answer I can give.

“I heard Boston’s a great place to live,” Dad says without a trace of sarcasm. “Plus, as much as we love you and would love to have you home, I think we’re both happy if it’s the same country for now.”

Enzo and I have talked about what’s next for my career a lot, especially over the last few weeks. The way we’re running things right now isn’t sustainable with my current growth. I’ve got to build a team around me, which means starting with a talent agency.

“We said no feelings.” I sigh.

My dad laughs, and the acoustics in the theater throw the booming sound around us.

I scrunch my face, eyeing him with confusion. I hadn’t even said anything funny.

He puts a hand over his stomach and takes a deep breath. “West, my god.” Dad pats me lovingly on the back. “You both failed miserably at that, didn’t you?”

“I failed miserably,” I correct him.

He slides off the stage, still smiling as he shakes his head in a short line. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a set of keys. I know which ones they are before he tosses them to me. There’s an old truck key, a tarnished gold key, and a worn University of Michigan key on the ring.

The truck key still has the M Micah carved into it after he and Dad finished the 1977 Ford Bronco they started as a project Micah’s freshman year of high school.

He’d been driving the stupid Audi R5 I bought the summer before on the night of the accident.

Dad’s smile fades into something softer. “Micah would have liked Jo.”

He would have absolutely loved her—there’s not a single doubt in my mind.

I rub my thumb over his initial. “I still miss him a lot,” I say through a tight chest. “I think about him every day.” Even when I hadn’t wanted to.

Dad has always tried his best not to let me see how much Micah’s death haunts him, especially in moments where we’re supposed to be celebrating me. It’s hard not to miss someone even when you’re happy, wishing they could be there too.

“I know, buddy. Me too,” he admits.