How can I resolve anything if he won’t even speak to me? I’ll never figure out what his plan is.
In the morning, standing out on the patio with a knot in my stomach while I drink my coffee, lost in thought, I sense her coming up behind me before I hear her. Maybe it’s the way the air shifts, or the warmth surrounding her. Maybe it’s the scent of her skin, teasing me. I turn around and see her, looking sleepy and a little messy. Her hair is in a high bun on top of her head, catching the morning light and glowing gold. Her cheeks are rosy, as though she’s just splashed cold water on her face.
She’s wearing an oversized hoodie that hangs as low as her tiny sleeping shorts, showing off her gorgeously long legs.My eyes trace slowly up her body, over each perfect curve, and my mind wanders.
“Good morning,” I smile, thinking to myself that I want to wake up every morning and have her beautiful smile be the first thing I see. Ideally, I want to wake up with her in my arms, but we haven’t gotten that far yet.
“Good morning,” she grins, her perfect lips curling upwards and her eyes crinkling at the corners. I could stare at her all day.
“Did you sleep well?”
“I did. You’re up early,” she remarks, climbing onto the patio sofa, curling her long legs beneath her. It’s difficult not to stare.
“I have a few things I want to do this morning. You don’t have any classes today. What are you up to?” I ask.
“Studying. Even when there aren’t classes, there are still things looming over my head.” She gestures through the air with an elegant wave of her hand. “I’m going to make a cup of tea, shower, then dive in.”
I press my lips together. There are so many things I want to say to her. How and when do I tell her what she means to me?
Now isn’t the right time. This issue with my father must be sorted out first.
“Well, I hope your day is successful. I’ll see you at dinner?” I say, my voice touched with hope. We didn’t eat together last night; she was too busy studying.
“Yes, definitely,” she replies, and my heart pulses a little faster.
Georgie pushes off the sofa and scans the garden with her hand held above her head to block the bright morning sun. She squints over the green lawn and lush plants. “This place is really beautiful. Maybe I’ll bring my books out to the patio and study in the sun for a little while.”
It can be your home forever, little one. Here with me.
“It’s peaceful, too.” I smile tightly, fighting the urge to reach out to her.
“Alright, I'd better get going,” I sigh, setting my empty coffee mug down on the table.
Driving towards my father’s mansion on the other side of town, my head is overflowing with the things I want to say to him. My father was never the best listener. He never made me feel heard or understood. His coldness and his ego only allowed space forhisopinion, as though no other man in existence could have better ideas than him. Even when Iknewmy ideas were better than whatever he had planned, I had to bite my tongue.
That’s how I eventually started running the business. One day, I had an idea. My father didn’t want to hear it—I knew before I even tried to talk to him—so while he was away, I went ahead and implemented the new routine and packing system in our largest warehouse.
It worked brilliantly. The results were astounding. The new process increased the workflow drastically.
The floor manager was so happy about it that he tried to tell my father how brilliant I was. I remember feeling proud in that moment, to have an older man recognize something I had done.
My father couldn’t have cared less.
He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t interested. He was devoid of any reaction.
This both angered me and encouraged me.
I’d gotten away with it.
I’d done what I wanted to do, and there hadn’t been consequences. It was the start of everything. I began to implement other changes, and over time, the entire company came under my control. Not on paper, but I was the one managing everything.
And still, my father said nothing. He didn’t interfere. He didn’t care.
I turn onto the high street, then left, then left again, and find myself idling outside the tall security gates of my father’s mansion.
The guard greets me, and I gesture for him to open the gates.
“Sir, are you here to see your father?” He walks closer to my window and leans down to speak to me.
