“Love you, too, Aspen,” she whispers back, eyes growing heavy. I pull the covers over us and hold the love of my life as she falls asleep, naked, in my arms for the first time.
And even though months go by without any progress where my company is concerned, and I continue to pose for pictures with Parker for my family to see, every night without fail, Sage and I end up tangled together in the same bed.
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
December
The three personalinvestigators I hired to try to dig something up I can blackmail my dad with have all failed to find asingle thing.
I know threatening him to get what I want isn’t ideal, or the most strictly legal route to take, but it's the only thing I can think of that would potentially convince my father to sell his shares to me. And if he doesn’t, I know he won’t be following any moral compass when it comes to sabotaging my career. He’s been in politics for too long to be sloppy about what an absolute asshole he is. It’s time to take matters into my own hands.
I’m “home” for Christmas.
Getting here was an absolute shit show. Parker overslept and we almost missed our flight, but we’re in Georgia. My parents have been harassing me for months to bring Parker to meet them, and I finally agreed. My father has no filter where his family is concerned, so I’m hoping I’ll figure something out during this trip to use against him.
They sent their driver to pick us up from the airport, and he informed us my parents are at a church event so the house will be empty when we arrive. Maybe I can poke around before they get back.
We enter the property down the long driveway surrounded by old trees and pass the elaborate fountain before pulling up at the grand entrance to the mansion. I let us inside, and Parker takes in the curved staircase around the grand piano and all the in-your-face luxury decor my parent’s interior designer thought was a good idea.
“It’s obnoxious, I know,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I’ve been around the Caldwells’ wealth enough that I’ll be able to feign a polite, unimpressed expression at yourparent’s stuff if that’s what you’d prefer,” he offers, smirking.
Parker really is the best possible fake boyfriend. “Yes! That will be perfect. Act underwhelmed and indifferent, it’ll quietly piss them off, and they’ll respect you more for it.”
“Sounds good,” he agrees with a laugh.
I lead Parker upstairs as I get a text from my mother. “Oh, good. Our room assignments, just in time,” I say sarcastically. “Obviously, I’ve talked about how antiquated my parent’s beliefs are when it comes to relationships. That’s basically the entire reason we’re supposedly dating in the first place. But in case you were doubting just how strict they are, they have us staying in not only separate rooms, but in separate wings of the house.”
“Oh, darn,” he teases, probably relieved we won’t be sharing a bed.Not when I caught him in bed with someone else this morning.
I show Parker his room and tell him to text me after he showers so I can formally introduce him to my parents, then I head down to my fathers office. It’s locked,of course, so no luck there yet. Maybe I can figure out where he keeps the key.
After I change into clothes my parents would deem more appropriate, Parker is ready, so I give him a quick tour hoping he won’t end up lost if I have to sneak away. We spend some time chatting by the pool, and I warn him about all my awful extended family members he’ll have to meet at the Christmas brunch my parents are hosting tomorrow.
My mother sends another text saying dinner will be served at five p.m. so we head there a few minutes before. At the last second, I decide to hit the record button on my phone before slipping it into the thin pocket of my skirt. On the off chance my dad says something incriminating, I’d rather have the proof. That’s my plan for the rest of this trip.
“Mother, Father, this is my boyfriend, Parker,” I introduce when we find they’re already waiting for us in the dining room. He shakes their hands and we all sit down for the meal our chef prepared.
“How was church?” I ask, attempting civility. My mother launches into a story about how one of the women in her bible study was caught having an affair with her gardener. I nod and hum along appropriately as we eat. Then she moves onto family gossip about the people we’ll see tomorrow. Parker and I don’t say much and quickly finish our food.
Parker removes his insulin pump from his pocket, something that's become so normal for me to witness I usually don't even notice, but my father scoffs loudly, glaring at him. “Young people and their phones, I swear, Mary. The men at the office can’t stay off theirs for an entire meal either. They don’t even realize they’re being disrespectful,” he says to my mother like we can’t also hear him.
“That’s his insulin pump, Father. I told you Parker has diabetes,” I defend, already so drained by this short interaction with him.
“Parker, what is it you do again?” he asks, completely ignoring my comment as he turns to him, still glaring.
“I’m the CFO of Caldwell Hotels,” he says, sounding polite, but I know him well enough by now to know how annoyed he’s getting. My parents give approving hums, nodding like this is new information to them and not the sole reason they haven’t demanded I end things with him to marry Arthur.
My father must decide Parker is important enough to complain to, focusing on him as he continues. “I’d bet you deal with a lot of bullshit from your employees too. Just last week, we were expecting a shipment of new supplies and had another delay. The office manager, this gay Latino kid who’s probably way too young to be in charge of anyone at, like, twenty-five—no doubt a diversity hire—had the audacity to blame the weather. If you know your supplies are coming from the north in December, make a fucking plan for that. Don’t come crying to me now that we’re going to be over budget and behind on our timeline.”
And this is why I despise spending any time with this man. I respond before Parker can say anything. “Father, that man’s race, age, or sexual orientation have no impact on his ability to do his job. They were completely unnecessary details to include in your complaint.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was just describing him so you could have a visual. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There actually is something wrong with it. You sound racist, homophobic, and like you’re discriminating based onhis age. If you talk like that at work, I’m shocked you haven’t had HR complaints.”
He just humphs out a big sigh, rolling his eyes again.“I swear, the more time you spend in that city, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
