“You might not, but you don’t love me or care. And I’m not sure which is worse.” I sigh.
“We can?—”
“No.” I interrupt Declan. “The fact that you what, did all of this so I’d go and work for Dad?”
“Alice, we’ve put up with your childish dreams long enough. Working in a flower shop? It’s not what Burkes do. It’s not asuitableposition.”
“It’s what this Burke wants to do.”
“You won’t do it with your grandfather’s money,” Dad states.
“Unbelievable.” I shake my head.
“Doesn’t it really matter what Alice wants to do?” Declan asks.
“Declan, no. Stop.”
“No. Why do they get to dictate what you do?”
“What if one of our friends saw her?” Mom looks appalled, like this is the worst thing that could happen.
Dad nods in agreement. “Our name carries a lot of weightin this city. I don’t want people thinking less of us because of you.”
“Because I have a good job that lets me save and pay the bills?”
“You can’t possibly be saving that much money,” Mom says.
“You don’t have any idea how much I make because you’ve never bothered to take an interest in what I do.”
“You’re an associate at a flower shop.”
“One that I’m hoping to buy,” I fire back at her.
“What?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen my Dad’s face turn so red. “Is that what you were going to use the trust for?”
Disdain drips from his voice.
“Yes,” I answer. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”
“It’s not what Burkes do.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to work for you.” I push all the papers back toward him.
“Then if you can save money, you’ll be buying it yourself. I’ve already sent this to the estate lawyers, and you will not be getting one cent of your trust.”
“You two are unbelievable. Treating your only daughter like this? I’m not stealing your money. I’m doing what I’m passionate about. What I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Alice, work for your father,” Mom says. “You’ll make more money than you could ever dream of.”
“And be miserable.”
“Happiness is overrated,” she says.
“Not for me.”
Throwing my napkin down on my plate, I watch as a few peas roll off onto the neatly pressed table cloth. I don’t care. I don’t care that I shouldn’t leave the table until I’m excused. I’m tired of trying to fit in the perfect little image that these two have of me. I tell them as much.
“You know what? I’m done. I’m done trying to be the perfect daughter and live up to some imaginary standard ofwhat you think I need to be. You can have the money. If it means I have to be someone I’m not, I don’t want it. I don’t want to be a part of this family anymore.”
