I fished my phone out of my pocket to let them know I was on my way up.
En route to the elevator, a woman passed us, trailed by a bellman pushing a cart that was nearly overflowing with Louis Vuitton luggage. Inside her purse was a small animal. I thought it was a dog, but it could have just as easily been a ferret.
Taylor shook his head. “I sometimes forget how rich your family is.”
“It’s not like you’re poor,” I pointed out, guiding him to the bank of cars dedicated to the highest floors.
While it was true he'd gotten into some financial difficulty a few years back, he was making close to two million dollars a year now when you factored in his salary and his endorsement deals. He could afford to stay in places like this if he wanted to, though I didn’t think he ever would—stuffy wasn’t really his style.
“No, that's true, but I don’t think I’d ever be comfortable with your kind of rich.”
“Don’t let my mother hear you say that.”
He mimed zipping his lips. “I’m just here for emotional support. I don’t plan on letting your parents hear me say anything.”
His lips turned down in a frown. “Unless they say something shitty about you. In which case, I can’t be held liable for my actions.”
“I’d pay good money to see you go toe to toe with them.”
The truth was, I couldn’t imagine doing this without him. And not just tonight.
If the past month had taught me anything, it was that having someone in my corner who had no agenda, someone who wanted me for me and not what I could do for them, was essential to my happiness and well-being. It wasn't something I'd ever experienced before, and I wasn’t sure I'd ever have the words to adequately express how much it meant to me.
Upstairs, I rapped three times on the door, and a few seconds later, it swung open to reveal my father standing there, jacket off, tie loosened, hair askew. His eyes darted quickly to Taylor standing at my side, then back to me, his brows dipping. But rather than commenting on Taylor’s presence, he pulled the door wide and took a step to the side, gesturing for us to enter.
“Thank you for coming.”
“It didn’t sound like I had a choice.”
“You always have a choice,” he grumbled.
“Hmm,” I hummed, the sound communicating exactly how much I believed that.
He crossed the room to ease himself down into one of the wingback chairs by the window, reaching for a glass of whiskey on the table next to it.
My mother stood at the bar, her back to us, fixing what I assumed was a classic gin martini. It was her signature cocktail, if you considered a drink you only indulged in a couple of times a year signature. She was more of a pills and plastic surgery kind of lady when it came to stress management.
Taylor caught my eye, clocking the tension that hung in the air. I shrugged slightly. I was as confused by it as he was. You could say a lot about my parents, but, generally speaking, they were unflappable.
Now?
Completely flapped.
My mother finally turned, her eyes widening a fraction of an inch. “What’s he doing here?”
“I asked him to be here,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest in a gesture I knew made me look defensive, but I couldn't be bothered to care. Iwasdefensive.
“Why?” She tilted her head, eyeing him speculatively.
My gaze bounced between my parents—my mother’s face pinched with disdain and my father’s appearing resigned. Weary, even. It wasn’t an expression I was used to seeing on him. Haughty? Arrogant? Spiteful, even? Yes. But this? No. Never this.
“Because he’s important to me,” I said slowly, not quite understanding what we’d walked into. My parents had neverbeen outwardly emotional people, so this charged atmosphere was throwing me for a loop.
My father leaned slightly forward. “Important, the way Wyatt was important to you?”
After Wyatt’s announcement—after all the gossip about me had reached a fever pitch—the voicemails my father had left me had been angry and accusatory. Now, he just sounded curious.
I didn’t owe him an answer. Hell, I didn’t owe them anything. But I wanted to do this for me. For the life I wanted to lead.
