My business is not suddenly going to fail. And even if it did, I have a substantial savings account to keep me on my feet. So why did finding out about Malia’s job feel like a gut punch?
The logical side of me keeps ticking off reasons why my freak-out doesn’t make sense. Malia hasn’t lied to me. When we first started texting, we kept details light on purpose. We were online gaming friends. It made sense to be cautious. Then we gotto know each other better, we were still gaming together, and we’d already passed the time when we shared details about our jobs. It probably just didn’t come up again.
I try to force away all my uneasy feelings, but it’s not working.
“Caleb?” Mom’s voice sounds behind me.
I close my eyes. She definitely wasn’t the second choice for someone to unload on. I draw in a deep breath and turn to greet my mother, who’s walking up the path toward me.
“I’ve been looking for you and Malia,” she says. She glances around and scowls, like I’ve hidden Malia from her. “I really would like to get to know her a little bit before we head home on Sunday.”
“She’s, uh … talking with Law’s mom. Senator Card wanted her thoughts on a data privacy bill.” I scrub a hand through my hair.
Mom’s eyebrows jump up, her expression confused. Even though the thoughts running through her head are likely the same as what went through mine when Senator Card first asked, I’m immediately defensive when it’s Mom thinking them. Given how she has always behaved about my job, she likely had opinions about me dating a gaming developer.
“She’s the CEO of Vire Gaming,” I say, my tone protective. “It’s a subsidiary of a big tech corporation.”
“Oh.” Mom’s expression turns approving.
I groan. “Mom. Admit it, you didn’t think I should be dating a gamer, right? But it’s different now that she’s actually someone you’d set me up with?”
Mom scowls. “I hardly know her, Caleb. When you told me you were bringing her to the wedding, it was the first I heard you were dating anyone.”
“Mom.” I tilt my head at her.
She sighs. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. I can’t explain what it feels like to worry as a mother. It’s … sometimes it’s illogical.”
“I bought your house,” I point out. “What is there to worry about?”
“And how much did that put you in debt?” she demands.
“None.” I fold my arms and eye her. She thinks I got a loan for the house? I think back to when we transferred ownership. I did just deposit the money into her account, so jumping through some mental hoops—I guess I can see where she got there. Maybe. It’s still a stretch. And a lot of her ignoring things I’ve been saying the last few years.
“But you had to share an apartment with Carlie when you moved to Houston,” she cries. “It must have depleted your savings!” Her brows are still furrowed like I must be lying about not being in debt. I might have to pull out bank statements. This does explain the way she’s always trying to slip me cash if she believes I’m house-poor.
“Mom, I paid most of the rent on the apartment so Carlie could have a nice place to live and still do what she loves. It wasn’t about not being able to afford a place on my own.” I shake my head. “I have almost four million dollars in my savings account, and if I lost my business today, I could still live comfortably off the interest. That’s not even counting my investment accounts.”
Mom’s jaw drops. “Four million?” she says in a squeaky voice.
Turns out Malia is kind of brilliant. I’m being a little more numbers specific than a Range Rover and a $5,000-a-month house in West University, but apparently it’s working.
“I don’t need a girlfriend who’s a partner at a big law firm, or a doctor,” I say, almost resigned.
A small smile starts on Mom’s face. “Or the CEO of a prestigious tech firm …”
“No.” It comes out like a defensive teenager.
“That’s a problem, since it seems like you might be falling in love with one.”
“I …” Well, I have no defense against this, because I’m pretty sure it’s true. Or it’s going to be true in a week or so. I fell fast and hard for Ivy. In some ways I’m falling faster and harder for Malia, but I’ve also had almost a year to build the foundation for what’s happening now.
Mom steps forward and puts her hands on my arms, looking up at me. “Caleb, I’m sorry that I made you feel like I thought your job wasn’t enough—that you weren’t enough.”
“Mom.” I have to break in. “It’s more than that. You didn’t listen to me all the times I’ve told you I’m fine.”
She pulls in a breath. “You’re right.” She looks down, her expression genuinely contrite. “And the problem is, I’m still not going to be perfect at that. You’re my child. I know you don’t need a CEO to be okay. You don’t even need four million in the bank to be okay, although it really does make me feel better.” A laugh bursts out of me, and she cracks a smile. “But based on the way you look at that girl? I think youdoneed Malia. If you let her go because of her job, you’ll be doing the same thing I was.”
Ooof.There’sthe gut punch. Malia’s family, like mine, has been judging her job her whole life, and what makes my judgments—because of my own insecurities—any different?
