I’ve been forcing myself to tolerate my father for his money, to give me anything substantial in my life. I don’t need it anymore. It’s not worth it.
“You can kiss my ass.” I start backing away. “I’m not going to be a backup plan for you. Your company can crash and burn, for all I care.”
“Don’t walk away from me.”
“I’m a grown man. I’ll do whatever the fuck I please.”
My back faces him, and I see Lily through the large glass windows, talking to Billie out on the balcony.
“Grant.” He’s using the same tone from the mall, that got Locke and Billie to snap to attention. The only effect it has on me is a shrilling sound in my ear. “I will cut you off. I will stop paying for your apartment and your car and your tuition.”
“Do it, then.”
I’m driven by anger, not logic, but throwing a middle finger up over my shoulder is what feels right. A real parent provides for their child because they care for them, not because it’s a transaction. I have no problem sacrificing that to make my point.
Plus, I haven’t forgotten who I am. My luxurious lifestyle is nice, but before Keller appeared where he was unwelcome, I planned a normal life. I have savings. I can work again if I need to. He’s not as irreplaceable as he thinks he is.
“Grant McCarthy, you face me right now.”
I continue to ignore him.
“Grant. You are my son!”
“I am my mother’s son.” I’ll turn around for this. Not for him, but for my mom. “And hers only.”
I show Keller my back again and he chooses not to follow. I don’t want to be in this apartment anymore, or ever again, but when I leave it won’t be uncomfortable or confused. I know who I am, who raised me, and how she did.
My mother raised me to be better than my father, and to not hold out my hand waiting for some sort of sign that he wants a real relationship.
He doesn’t. And that’s okay. For once, I don’t feel the tugging ache of needing him, emotionally or financially.
For once, I’m free.
twenty-three
LILIANA
Billie insistson showing me around the balcony. When I walked out of the bathroom, I briefly saw Grant in the living room before she pulled me to the side and asked if we could have a quick chat.
“Quick” is pushing it. There’s only so many times one person can describe how beautiful the Boston skyline is. She tries, though.
“I just love the way the city lights look from here.” Leaning against the cold metal of Keller’s balcony railing, the view of Bostonisspecial. Something I haven’t seen anywhere else despite living in Massachusetts my whole life.
The observation would be more breathtaking, if it wasn’t Billie’s third time mentioning it. I reply the same way I did the first two times.
“Me too. It’s so pretty.”
“It is.”
From the minimal information I have about Billie, I perceive her as a natural mood maker. The person who commandswhether it’s a good day or a bad one, because her energy draws people in and makes them listen. She’s loud, and brazen, and unapologetically herself.
The girl in front of me goes against every conception I’ve created. She’s stumbling for words, repeating herself, twisting the rose gold ring on her middle finger back and forth.
“Hey, Liliana?” She’s still turning the jewelry around her finger but looks up to address me. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”
Smiling, I pat her lightly on the arm. “Of course. Thank you for inviting me.”
Billie looks back at the city. We both know that it was really Keller who invited me with what Grant later called one of his “mind games.”
