CHAPTER TWELVE: SELL IT
SUTTON
“Listen,Aunt Delilah has set up a really great opportunity for me,” I tell Mom as I slowly push through the crowds and make my way back to the entrance to the press box. I stop there, not wanting to get too close to my friends — God forbid they hear any of this. “I told you, Mom, I’m here to put in my proposal for the conference center job. I’m not just running away from home.”
Mom lets out a long sigh on the other end of the phone. She hates that I’m here in Denver, and hasn’t made a secret of it since I announced the trip the Tuesday after coming home from Aunt Delilah’s. I’m getting exhausted of having to justify my decision to go for this job, especially since we’ve reached the point where I’m just talking in circles, saying the same thing over and over again.
“Sweetheart? Are you really sure you can handle this?” Mom asks. “You know you’re not good with public speaking or presenting in front of groups. Sure, one-on-one, you’re fine, but your father has had to pitch your presentations for you in the past.”
I pause outside the press box door and grit my teeth, frustration pulsing through me. My mind flashes to Jayce, peeking around the corner at me just a few moments ago, and my cheeks flood with mortification. God, I hope he didn’t hear too much… he’ll think I’m such a fucking doormat.
“My initial meetingisone-on-one,” I remind her.
“Big jobs like this will inevitably require a larger presentation,” she insists. “What will you do then?”
My heart is pounding way harder than it should be. Ineedto get off this call. “I’ll handle it,” I plead, the lights and cheers of the crowd becoming a dull buzz in my head. “I just need you to trust me.”
She lets out an exasperated huff. “Of course I trust you, sweetie. I just want to make sure you’re going into this with every tool available to you so you succeed.”
Yeah, right. She’s just trying to scare me into turning tail and scampering back home.
Before I can reply, she says something that stops me cold. “If you’re in Denver, Sutton, what will we do about the wedding?”
I frowned, momentarily at a loss. What is she talking about?
Oh… oh, my God! She’s not seriously starting to plan a wedding between me and Leon, is she? What the fuck!
“Wedding? Mom, I’m not even engaged…”
“Well, you know how much planning goes into these things,” she insists. “We need to get a start, and you and Leon need to be able to spend time together so you can get to the engagement. How will that happen if you’re halfway across the country?”
She’s got to be fucking kidding. I’m pursuing an opportunity to further my career and build up our company, and all she can think about is a wedding that isn’t actually happening?
“Mom, there’s plenty of time to think about that later,” I say, hoping that if I don’t outright reject the idea, she won’t feel theneed to push it so hard. “It’s not like I’ll be in Denver for more than a few months.”
That might not be atotallie, if I don’t end up getting the job.
“Oh, all right, fine,” she groans in defeat, and it’s the most miraculous sound I’ve heard all day. “If you’re so determined to meet with this Romero fellow, I don’t suppose there’s much I can really do to stop you.”
I sigh. “Mom, you know Jackson Romero isn’t some fellow. You know exactly who he is and how huge this would be for us.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she replies dismissively. “Just don’t forget your responsibilities back here while you’re away, understood?”
If I wasn’t so relieved — and so desperate to please her, no matter what — I’d probably let out a derisive snort. My responsibilities? Marrying Leon Reynolds and popping out babies? Hell no.
Yet, in the back of my mind, that little voice that never leaves me is whispering that I can’t disappoint her. Can’t hurt her. I’ve already hurt her so much…
“I won’t, Mom,” I murmur. “I promise. I… I gotta go. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Call me tomorrow!”
“Okay.” I hang up the call and suck in a long, deep breath as I struggle not to spiral and break down right here in the middle of the arena corridor. It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. This will all be worth it in the end when I land the Romero project and prove myself to Mom and Dad once and for all.
It takes me a few moments, but once I no longer feel like I’ll snap at any moment, I tuck my phone into my pocket and open the press box door. Ducking and dodging to avoid getting in the way of the cameras and sports reporters crowded into the press box right on the edge of the ice, I return to my seat in the next to press area with Grace, Skyler, and Rylee. We’re tucked away in the lower right-hand corner of the box on a metal bleacherbench. Grace is focused on her phone, her fingers flying over the screen as she types something out. Skyler and Rylee are sitting and chatting as they wait for the game to start back up. I manage to maintain my smile as I settle in next to them, but it takes every ounce of willpower I possess.
As I sit back down, Grace turns to me and asks, “Good call?”
“Yeah,” I force out in a cheery tone. “Just Mom checking in.”
