“He did not!” Phylicia gasped, her vehemence on his behalf providing a small measure of comfort.
“It shouldn’t have hurt me as much as it did. It wasn’t the first time he’d shot down my ideas. I was used to it.” A familiar pang of disappointment tightened Jamal’s chest. “I’d spent my entire life trying to live up to his expectations, and…I don’t know…I just… I was just over it. At that point, I knew I’d never earn that man’s respect. It was time for me to go. I was tired of having my life dictated by other people.”
Phylicia caressed his cheek, a sympathetic frown marring her brow. “I’m sorry,” she said. She gazed up at him for several hauntingly quiet moments before she spoke again in a soft voice. “Jamal, don’t take this the wrong way, but why haven’t you opened your firm?”
Her question struck a chord of panic in his chest, but he shrugged it off. “I want to take my time and make sure I do it right.”
“But you’re not making any progress on it,” she said. “You’ve spent over a year working first on the Georgian, and now Belle Maison. You haven’t even decided on a location for your firm.”
“I’m not in any big rush.”
“Because there’s no reason for you to rush. You have enough money to live on for the rest of your life. You can put off opening this firm forever.” She tilted her head to the side, those brown eyes boring into his. “If this is something you truly want, why haven’t you made more of an effort to see it through?”
Jamal tried to keep his expression light, but unease tightened his jaw. “What’s with the third degree?” he asked with an uncomfortable laugh.
“You’re afraid,” she said.
Her simple, softly spoken words hit a raw nerve.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I knowexactlywhat I’m talking about,” she said. “I know what it’s like to be afraid to fail. When that house-flipping venture went bad, I tried to put all of the blame on Kevin, but I was just as culpable. I wanted to prove to myself that I was right in wanting to expand my father’s business.”
“Our situations are completely different.”
“No, they’re not.” She placed her soft palm against his cheek, her eyes brimming with understanding. “You have something to prove, just as I did. And just like me, you’re afraid that if you fail, you’ll prove your father right. That’s why you took so long to remodel your house, and why you bought Belle Maison. You’re finding projects to occupy your time so that you don’t have to go after your dream.”
He huffed out a grunt. “I thought your degree was in finance, not psychology,” he said, reaching for the wine. He busied himself with refilling his glass so he wouldn’t have to face the truth that pummeled him with every word Phylicia uttered.
She took the bottle from his hands and set it next to them.
“It doesn’t take a psychology degree to see what’s going on here,” she said. “Don’t let fear stop you. And don’t let revenge or some misguided desire to prove your dad wrong be your sole focus. This isyourdream. Do it foryou.And Jamal?” She captured his chin between her fingers and tilted his head up. “You need to settle things with your dad. Don’t let it eat away at your family anymore.”
“It’s not worth it. Trust me on this. Let me handle this in my own time.”
“But—”
Jamal leaned forward and captured her lips, halting further comment. He had not gone to all this trouble setting up this romantic night just to ruin it with talk of his father.
“Enough free advice for the night,” he whispered against her lips. “We’ve got other ways to occupy our time.”
Chapter 14
A toxic mixtureof anxiety, fear, and a healthy dose of disgust roiled through Jamal’s gut as they made their way to the Aztec Ballroom of the Biltmore Hotel, where his sister’s wedding and reception were being held. With each step he took, he had to talk himself out of turning around and driving back to Sedona.
He knew it was out of the question. He’d come here for Lauryn. He was not going to ruin her big day. He and Lawrence Johnson would just have to suck it up and tolerate each other’s presence.
Jamal glanced over at Phylicia, who had an excellent chance of outshining the bride. She was stunning in the formfitting strapless gray dress. Her subtle makeup transformed her face into a thing of breath-stealing beauty. He could spend hours staring at her.
“Stop staring at me like that,” she said in a hushed voice.
“I can’t help it. You’re just so damn good to stare at.”
The blush that blossomed on her cheeks made looking at her even more enjoyable. He loved making her blush. He’d figured out so many ways to do it over the past few months.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked.
Her inquiry doused his heated thoughts. Sucking in a heavy breath, he answered, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
