“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But I’m all ears if you do.” I say quietly.
She turns, leaning her hip against the railing. The hotel lights make her eyes golden from this angle. She studies me for a long moment, and I can see her deciding something. Finally, she takes a sip of champagne and says, “My dad and I haven’t really spoken in almost ten years. Not properly. Tonight was the first time I’ve seen him in maybe three years, and it was...” She shakes her head. “It was exactly what I expected and somehow still disappointing.”
“What happened? If you want to tell me.”
“Tonight?”
“Or in the past? Whatever you want to share.”
She waves her hand. “Tonight was nothing. Stilted conversation because he doesn’t understand my choices. Me falling for the usual traps. Etcetera. My father is very good at making you doubt yourself, at picking at normal fraying moments and turning them into potential disasters. And if you don’t listen to him, he takes that personally. It’s deeplynarcissistic and exhausting. We don’t see eye to eye on almost anything, and he’s so closed off. I’ve never been able to get through to him about?—”
She takes a deep breath.
“Sorry, I get worked up. It’s hard to maintain a relationship with someone who doesn’t have any curiosity about how and why I’m the person I am today.”
I brush a strand of hair back from her face. “I’m curious about you, Dr. Francesca. Very curious.”
That puts a challenging glint in her eye. “I get really passionate about things like substance use and other things that we criminalize unnecessarily, like getting into financial trouble. My father can be a real jackass about stuff like that, and if I challenge him on it, trying to get him to be more understanding about how people get into trouble, he threatens to cut me off. So everything is an endless negotiation and I know I should just cut the strings and take out student loans instead, but those are fucking predatory, too, and it’s like—” She tosses her head back and lets out a very frustrated growl.
I shouldn’t find it sexy as fuck, but I do. “Yeah, those are all real issues. Including the student loans issue. I’m really lucky that wasn’t a factor for me, but I know how privileged that makes me.”
“Yeah?” She searches my face, then nods. “I mean, same. But I think we should use our privilege as much as we can to help people, you know?”
“I do, yeah.”
She exhales. “Good. Good.” She worries her lower lip. “So in the past…” She sighs. “When I was sixteen, I fell madly in love with the wrong boy. Or what I thought was love. Really learned a lesson there. This guy was like…the son my dad always wanted. And I dunno, there was probably an element of me wanting to prove something there, that I was enough, that I was valued.”
The words come out in a rush, like she’s ripping off a bandage.
“He was twenty, so we kept it a secret. It wasn’t, like, this big scandalous thing—we genuinely liked each other, he wasn’t grooming me or anything, but it still felt taboo.”
I have my own thoughts about that age difference, but since it was a decade ago, I don’t react.
And I’m glad I don’t, because of what she confesses next.
“That was probably part of the appeal, in hindsight. But I thought— Well, anyway, my dad had no clue. Until he caught us one day, and suddenly I was the reason this guy’s career wasn’t clicking into place the way it should. They got into it, we got into it. We broke up, because it definitely wasn’t love, actually. I didn’t speak to my dad for months, and then I left for college, which he only agreed to pay for if I went to an all-girls school.”
The anger in her voice makes my chest tight. “Francesca?—”
“And the worst part?” She’s on a roll now, the words pouring out. “The absolute worst part is that his relief when we broke up wasn’t aboutme. It was never about me. It was about his chosen son’s focus. Except the guy never got his shit together, and my dad still blamed me. And when I told him I wanted to go to medical school, wanted to be an ER doctor, he said I was making another selfish choice. That I’d never have a normal family life working those hours. As if he has any room to talk about being present for family.”
I haul her in close. “Your dad’s an idiot.”
That startles a laugh out of her. “Logan?—”
“No, I’m serious. He’s an idiot and probably a terrible father, and I’m sorry you had to grow up with that.” I pull her closer. “But can I tell you what I see when I look at you?”
“What?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“I see someone who’s about to become a doctor. Who’s smart enough to match their top residency choice and confidentenough to know it.” I tangle my free hand in her hair and kiss her forehead.“I see someone who is fearless enough to choose her own path in life.” I grip her hair gently and tip her head back so she can see my face when I say this part. “You might be the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
Francesca looks up at me, her face open and vulnerable in a way that makes my heart stutter. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough to know Ineedto know more.”
She rises on her toes, her hands sliding up my chest. I can feel the heat of her palms through my shirt. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure she can feel it. “How many birthday kisses are we at now?”
“Seventeen.” The crowd around us is getting louder, the countdown imminent, but I don’t care. All I care about is this woman, this moment, this perfect night.
