My father cleared his throat, gaze flicking from Cal to me. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before. “Yes, well, we’re proud of what she’s accomplished,” he said. “Our little girl was always going to forge her own path.”
My heart thumped. It was all I’d ever wanted to hear from my father. A tiny morsel of praise. A crumb of affection that would show me that he saw me. He respected me. He loved me.
Part of me was so unbelievably happy to get it. I’d waited thirty-three years to have my father acknowledge my accomplishments, to have him proud of me for something other than wearing a pretty dress and attracting the right sort of guy.
The other part was furious. The only reason my father was impressed at all was because Cal had given me his stamp of approval. Why did it take another man lifting me up for my own father to finally take note? Conflict raged within me, but I didn’t have an outlet for it.
Not when my mother swept into the room in a floral dressing gown, her hair and makeup perfectly done. “Oh, everyone’s awake!” She beamed at Cal. “And you’ve already got coffee.”
“Beau helped me out with it.”
“I’ll get breakfast started,” my mother announced. “Deena, get the eggs from the fridge.”
The command irked me, but I didn’t have the heart to protest. Not when I felt off-balance already. Not when Cal was watching my every move, my every reaction.
He saw too much.
“How long will you be staying, Cal?” my mother asked, grabbing a loaf of bread from the pantry. “We’d love to have you for another few days. Get to know the man who’s stolen our girl’s heart.” She beamed at him.
I put the carton of eggs on the counter and opened my mouth, but Cal beat me to it by saying, “I’m heading back to Manhattan this morning, unfortunately. The jet’s ready and waiting. I just need to tell the crew whether or not Deena will be aboard as well.”
My mother paused, eyes wide as she looked at him. “The jet!” she exclaimed. Her gaze slid to me, an assessing look in her eyes. “How…convenient!”
I grimaced as I turned back to the eggs. My mother was practically glowing at the thought of my “boyfriend” having access to a private jet. And she was looking at me like I was worth something now that Cal had chosen me. It was my father’s approval all over again, and it tasted rotten on my tongue.
“I’ll go pack,” I said, suddenly overcome with the need to get out of this room and away from all three of them. I left my nearly full coffee on the counter and hurried out, not taking a full breath until I was behind the closed door of my bedroom.
I packed like a madwoman, tossing my clothing into my suitcase and kneeling on it so the zipper would close. Then I sat at the desk and buried myself in work until there was a soft knock on the door.
Cal cracked it open. “You ready?”
I closed my laptop and nodded. “Yes. Are you sure it’s okay for me to come with you on the jet?”
I’d organized countless private planes for clients to zigzag across the globe. Most of my clients didn’t have their own private jets—it made more sense to charter a plane as needed rather than pay for the expenses of maintaining and storing their own—and their travel habits kept me in business. But despite knowing the ins and outs of private jets, I’d never actually been on one myself.
“Yes, Deena,” Cal said. “Of course it’s okay.”
“Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He closed the door, leaving me to gather the last of my things.But he didn’t meet me at the door. He waited at the top of the stairs, grabbing my small suitcase from my grasp so he could carry it down the steps for me. My mother watched from the landing, a bright smile on her lips and a cunning look in her eyes.
She gave Cal a big hug and then turned to me. Grabbing my upper arms, she gave me a squeeze and said, “Your father and I aresoproud of you, honey.”
The praise made me feel sick. She wasn’t proud of me for making my own way in the world. She wasn’t proud of me for making my way through college with no help, or for starting a business that had kept me afloat for eight years.
She was proud of me for bagging a rich man.
Nothing I did would ever make her happier than this. I would never be enough just for being me. I would only ever be enough in relation to who I decided to date and ultimately marry.
I’d known this my whole life; it wasn’t new information. For my mother, my place in the world was secondary to whoever I tied my life to. But to hear her say it now, in front of Cal, when there were so many other things that she could be proud of...
It hurt—a lot. It felt like an ending.
The car ride to the private airfield was quiet. I said nothing, barely noticing the luxurious car and driver that took us there. I moved as if in a dream, feeling like my whole world was crashing down around me.
But nothing had changed. It was silly to be so devastated over a few comments. It shouldn’t have affected me this much.
Cal stayed close, his hand sometimes drifting to my lower back as he guided me through the easy security check and check-in process. He handled everything while I walked like a zombie, occasionally glancing at me but saying nothing.
