“Tim.” She purses her lips in disapproval. Apparently, Tim didn’t tell her first.
“Do you guys actually train people between gossip sessions?”
She shrugs. “Of course. But what are we supposed to do when we aren’t training anybody or selling memberships?” She shoots me a sly look. “I think Jack likes you.”
“What he likes are my boobs.”
“Which are attached to you, so they’re you.”
“Not the same thing. Anyway, thanks for bringing the flowers. I gotta get back to work.”
She looks around my small workspace, gives a conspicuous shudder and leaves. I shut the door and lock it again, then bury my nose in the blossoms. The silky petals tickle, and I smile.
I pluck the card. More writing in some new foreign language and Nicholas’s signature at the end. I grin, then kiss his name. I don’t generally like Mondays, but today’s been amazing. I woke up in his bed, and we had quick morning sex and a shower, followed by a lovely breakfast. I sigh appreciatively, then laugh when I realize that every day can start like that.
I whip out my phone to share my happiness.
–Me: Thank you. The flowers are stunning and I love them. I want you to know that if every Monday starts like today, I could actually begin to like starting the workweek. You’re the one who makes it special.
I hit send, then bite my lip, wondering if it was too soon or too clingy.
Nicholas and I have great chemistry. And he seems to like me, and I like him, too. But I know his dating history—I’d have to be uncaring and oblivious to be unaware when I’ve known him for eight years. He’s a serial monogamist, but doesn’t date the same woman for long.
Don’t overthink it. I should just enjoy the moment. I can deal with the end of our relationship when Nicholas decides to move on.
My phone pings. Ooh, is it Nicholas? I pick it up with breathless anticipation…but it’s Dad. Nothing pops my buoyant mood like seeing him on the screen.
–Dad: Is it true you were at a charity auction hosted by the Pryce Family Foundation and got the highest bid out of all the women there?
–Me: Yes. Why?
–Dad: I thought Renée was joking when she told me.
–Me: Well, she wasn’t.
Will this make him happy for me? Maybe even a little proud that I’m fine the way I am?
–Dad: How can any man want to throw away money like that?
Slap, slap, slap. His words shatter my hope, claw at me with their casual cruelty.
–Me: Well, somebody “threw away” $5M. Why do you think that is?
–Dad: $5M? As in FIVE MILLION DOLLARS?
–Me: As in exactly that. Since most people don’t “throw away” that much money for no reason, have you considered the possibility that maybe I’m fine the way I am? And maybe there are others who feel the same way?
I stare at the text. I’ve never spoken to my dad so bluntly, and my insides are shaky. But at the same time, it feels great to tell him what I think rather than demurring or just letting him bulldoze me to avoid an argument.
–Dad: There has to be something else involved. Money laundering, maybe.
His response leaves me speechless. He’d rather believe that a criminal is using me for some nefarious reason than acknowledge that maybe I’m lovable as is.
The fact that he’d go this far to insist that I’m not worth anything cuts deep, leaving a gash in my heart already battered from decades of abuse.
But I can’t make myself quit hoping he’ll change one day, so of course I keep opening his texts. I look at the flowers from Nicholas, but they aren’t enough to cheer me up now. All I want is a family that supports and loves each other. But it feels like an impossible dream.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
