Was this really her way of being supportive? She knew I didn’t want to live off her and my father’s money anymore, that I wanted to stand on my own two financially stable feet. But she hated it, so this was her alternative. To get me married off to some rich country-club boy.
“That’s your pride talking.”
“No. It’s me trying to build a life without depending on a husband. Or on you.”
A pause. Frosty and heavy.
“Fine,” she said. “But when you’re tired of struggling, the door is always open.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And don’t forget, the Donovan boy’s mother asked about you?—”
“That’s my cue to go.” She kept talking like she hadn’t heard me, and I ended the call before she could start texting me photos.
I slumped back in my chair, tossing my phone aside.
My heart hammered with frustration. Anger.
And fear.
Because she wasn’t wrong. Ididneed money. Real money. A guarantee. Something to fund the thing I hadn’t figured out yet but knew I wanted to build.
But the trust? That wasn’t an option.
Marrying someone just to open a bank account?
Yeah. No thanks.
I wasn’t living in a rom-com, where that idea would somehow lead to love. In real life, that kind of thing turned into awkward dinner parties, silent car rides, and divorce lawyers who smelled faintly of mint Tic Tacs.
I’d seen my parents’ marriage. Their matching smiles that never reached their eyes. Their passive-aggressive comments. Their wealth had padded everything except their happiness.
I’d take broke over being trapped any day.
At least this version of broke was honest.
No safety net I hadn’t earned. No invisible strings. Just me, my choices, and the consequences that came with them.
Which left me … exactly nowhere.
I exhaled slowly and clicked back onto my laptop tostart drafting captions for a flash sale on laundry hampers.
My life was glamorous.
As I typed, my mind drifted—annoyingly—back to Ledger.
The way he’d looked this evening. Heightened irritation wrapped around something softer underneath.
Worry? Sadness? Or was it just the exhaustion he’d been wearing like a second skin?
I didn’t know. It was hard to tell when his default expression to me was “glowering gargoyle.”
But he hadn’t been his usual self.
Not that I cared.
I definitely didn’t care.
