We’re playing chicken with words, like whoever speaks first will lose this battle. But Dad does and we all know that he doesn’t lose.
“You’re being emotional,” he says, shaking his head with disdain. If there is one thing that Maxwell Cromwell doesn’t do well, it’s emotions.
“I’m being honest,” I say plainly.
“You’re overreacting, August. There are a million girls out there. Someone who is more appropriate for you. You’ll find them, I know you will.”
“No,” I reply, stepping closer to him. “I’m reacting the right way based on the fact that you humiliated her. You made her feel so small. You made her think she isn’t good enough for me.”
“She’s not,” he says with a shrug, like it’s as simple as that.
I laugh. A short, humorless sound. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m your father,” he reminds me with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“And I’m not a kid anymore.”
Maxwell’s jaw tightens. “You’re letting sentiment cloud your judgment.”
“’Sentiment?” I say, shaking my head, repeating the word back at him. “You think this is about sentiment?”
He leans forward, bracing his arms on the desk.
“You broke her, me and us. And the worst part of it is, you don’t even care,” I spit at him.
But dear old Dad doesn’t even flinch. “You’re exaggerating.”
“No,” I reply. “I’m remembering.”
I straighten and let out a long breath.
“You told her that she was a distraction. You told her that she’d ruin my future. You told her she wasn’t worth the trouble. And last night you called her ‘the help.’”
Maxwell shrugs and states, “I told her the truth.”
I shake my head slowly, my voice coming out cold. “No. You told heryourtruth. The one where everything is about control, image and whatever you think I should be.”
His voice sharpens. “I was protecting you.”
“From what?” I ask him. “From loving someone? From being happy?”
He doesn’t answer.
I exhale loudly. This argument and this conversation is getting so old. The anger sets in, something steadier, and colder this time.
“You don’t get to talk about her like she’s nothing. Not anymore, and not ever again. Because you are so wrong about her.”
His eyes narrow on me. “Are you seeing her again? That thing at the charity event last night wasn’t just a one-time thing?”
I stare him down, attempting to level him with a glare. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is if it affects your career.”
“It won’t,” I say. “But even if it did? I would choose her.”
Dad’s expressions cracks just a bit. Just a fraction so that I can see the surprise creeping through.
I step back from the desk, trying to count this as a victory on my side.
