We both burst out laughing.
“But don’t mistake hate-lust for genuine feelings,” I add. “Not on myend, and certainly not on his. He flat-out said he’s ‘non-committal’ about relationships. Which, by the way, is a lovely way of saying he’s a commitment-phobe. Which is great with me, of course. I told him, ‘Hey, you’re non-committal? Cool, dude, because so am I.’”
“That you are.” She takes another bite of cake and snickers. “Sounds like you two are exactly each other’s types, huh? Or, at least, Reed is yours: emotionally unavailable and smoking hot.”
Sighing, I pick up a fork and steal a bite of cake off Alessandra’s plate. Because, really, what can I say to that accusation? Reed is, indeed, precisely my type. The most perfect example of it I’ve ever encountered. A glittering paragon of suave, cocky, unattainable male perfection, with a side of assholery, like nothing I’ve encountered before. “I’m sorry, Ally. I can’t believe I screwed things up so badly for both of us. I wish I’d handled things differently that night. For both our sakes.”
“It’s that Italian temper of yours,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Getting you into trouble, once again.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m kidding. You have nothing to apologize for, especially not tome. If Reed was rude and disrespectful to you, then I’m thrilled you told him off. Never think you have to take shit from any man, even a rich and powerful one, especially not to helpme. My time to shine will come soon enough, baby girl. I know it. And when it does, I won’t take crap from anyone. And I certainly won’t prostitute out my beloved sister-from-another-mister to get ahead.”
Oh, my heart. If I didn’t already love this beautiful girl, I would have fallen head over heels in love with her now.
I look out the window of my father’s small kitchen at the cloudless blue sky, trying to gather my thoughts. Ever since I got home from Reed’s the other night, I’ve felt a powerful ache growing inside me. An overwhelming sense of regret gathering steam. And now, I can’t help wishing I could rewind the clock and do things differently that night. “The thing is... ” I say. “It’s not like, before Reed implied I was a whore, I’d thought he was my Prince Charming. It’s not like the horrible things he said to me outside his house shattered my illusions about him.”
I look down at my hands, feeling my cheeks redden with shame. I’m not proud of myself for wishing I could rewind the clock and follow Reed into his house that night—where I’d then let him tie me up and fuck melike an animal for four hours straight, in exchange for him listening to Alessandra’s demo. But, if I’m being honest, that’s exactly what I’ve been wishing these past few days, now that I’ve had some time to reflect.
“What are you saying?” Alessandra asks, her eyebrow arched.
“I’m saying... Reed already had a horrible opinion of me that I wasn’t going to shake, no matter what I said or did. So, in that case, why did I even bother trying to convince him my intentions were pure? I should have kept my eye on the prize and done exactly what he expected of me—fucked him as payment for him listening to the demo. At least, that way, we both would have gotten what we wanted out of him.”
Alessandra smiles. “Actually, Georgie, it sounds to me like you did theonething you could have done to change Reed’s mind about you. Plus, bonus points, you did it in style—with your two middle fingers raised to the sky. So classic.”
I giggle. “You should have seen the look on Reed’s face as I was driving away. He was so fucking pissed at me.”
“Hey, ladies.” It’s my father, coming into the kitchen. And his voice makes us girls both straighten up. Dad strides across the small kitchen and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Aunt Marjorie sent me in here to ask about the cake. She suspects you two girls have gotten to chatting and completely forgotten why you came in here.”
Alessandra and I giggle and nod.
“Guilty as charged,” Alessandra says.
Rolling his eyes, Dad picks up a knife and begins cutting the cake for us. “Ally, would you mind distributing slices to everyone? There’s something I want to talk to Georgie about.”
“You betcha, Pops,” Alessandra says.
The three of us load cake slices onto a tray for Alessandra, who then breezes into the living room to expertly deliver them like the part-time waitress she is.
When Alessandra is gone, Dad turns to me and smiles proudly, his eyes instantly moistening. He places his hands on my shoulders, a sure sign an emotional speech is coming. It’s not a rare occurrence with my father—watching him become overcome with emotion. He’s always worn his tender heart on his sleeve, my Dad. It’s the thing I love most about him.
“You’re my pride and joy, Georgie,” he says, tears threatening. “You know that, right?”
“I do, Daddy. Thank you for always telling me that. And for doing without so much, for so long, so I could get a college education.”
“It’s what Mommy and I both wanted for you. We wanted you to be able to make a living doing something you feel passionately about.”
My eyes are glistening now, along with Dad’s. God, I wish my mother were here to witness this proud and happy day.
Dad reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. And, instantly, I know what’s inside. My mother’s wedding ring. Instantly, I hurl myself into my father’s arms and burst into tears. And so, of course, my emotional, tenderhearted father cries along with me.
“You always said you’d give it to me on my wedding day,” I mumble into Dad’s shoulder.
“I realized your mother would want you to have it today,” he whispers into my hair. “She came to me in a dream last night and told me to give it to you. She said, ‘Georgie doesn’t need a man to make us proud. She’s already the woman we’ve raised her to be.’”
I sniffle. “That sounds just like Mommy.”
Dad pulls back from our hug and wipes his eyes. “You know I’m hoping you’ll have a family of your own one day, but only because I want you to experience the kind of love story I had with your mother. I want you to experience the kind of unconditional love I feel for you, Georgie.”
