“Sure he will. It’s all about approach with a man like that.” He sits forward and plants his elbows on the desk. “What’s going on between you two?”
“We broke up,” I say.
“Shebroke up,” Rich corrects. “I haven’t agreed to it.”
I shoot him a glare, the brown-noser. “That isn’t how breakups work, Rich.”
“No need for the sarcastic tone,” my dad says to me. “We can do this like civilized adults. What’s the problem, honey? Is he working too much? I can arrange to cut back on his hours.”
“I don’t want that, sir,” Rich says. “I love my job, and I want to do my part.”
“I know. Believe me, I know, Rich. Nobody’s as dedicated as you.” He steeples his fingers and looks at me. “But relationships are work, and you guys are getting to the point where you either commit or move on, and I’d hate to see you end this over something that could be fixed.”
“It’s already ended, Dad,” I say. “Moving on is my choice.”
“Let’s not be rash,” he reasons. “This isn’t something you just decide overnight.”
“It wasn’tovernight.” Maybe a little. Was it really less than twelve hours ago that Finn nearly fucked me fully clothed? Pushing me up against the wall, unable to keep his hands to himself? I suck in a breath and try to push the scorching memory out of my mind. “It was . . . I . . .” I try to remember the point I was about to make.
Dad and Rich exchange a look. “Rich, will you give us a second?”
Rich hesitates but stands. “Sure.”
When we’re alone, my dad looks suddenly tired. “Why are you doing this to me, Banana? Why now? You know how December is.”
As if I need a reminder of the time of year. Using that in combination with the nickname given to me as a yellow-haired toddler is enough to make my throat thick. “I admit, it isn’t ideal timing.”
He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’ve lost three clients since summer, and the ones I have are twice as demanding around the holidays. I can’t be worried about you on top of work.”
And work comes first. That isn’t anything new, but it never feels good to hear, even if he doesn’t mean to hurt my feelings. “I thought things were going well,” I say.
“They are, and if anyone around the office asks, even Rich, business is great. But the economy’s unstable with this political climate, and clients are hesitant to pay for premium work. It’ll pass, it always does, I just don’t need more stress.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Rich says you’ve stopped seeing Doctor Lumby and you’re taking on your own treatment. I don’t believe him.”
I close my eyes. I knew this conversation would come, but I’m not feeling as bold as I was last night. “It’s time, Dad. It’s been ten years—”
“Ten years.” He looks at the desk. “Don’t I know it.”
I allow us a moment of silence. “I’m sorry, but wouldn’t you rather I figure this out now instead of later, when we’re all more invested?”
“Figure what out?”
“That I don’tlovehim. If it hasn’t happened by now, it’s not going to.”
“That’s because you don’t understand the definition of love. Your generation thinks everything’s easy. Love is commitment. It doesn’t come like that.” He snaps. “It’s an investment of time and energy.”
“Is that how you felt about Mom?”
“Damn right it is. We worked on our marriage every day and to let her go at any point would’ve been like tanking a business I’d spent years investing in.”
Even though my dad refers to my mom as an investment, I know he means it as a compliment. He was even more dedicated to her than this company. “Not every business can survive,” I say.
“You don’t think we had our problems in the beginning? Two years in? Ten years in? Shit, twenty years? Of course we did.”
Guilt weighs on my shoulders. If not for my mistakes, he’d have been able to say thirty years soon. “But Rich and I aren’t married.”
