Page 95 of Say It Isn't So

He didn’t flinch, though, didn’t even move a muscle.

For good measure, I added, “I’m an asset. You know that.”

Now his jaw ticked, and he studied me before agreeing. “That may be true, but it changes nothing. So long as you’re on this silly crusade to date Knox Rhodes, that’s my decision and it’s final.”

I wasn’t being swayed on this. “Deciding that I’m going to explore things with Knox is not a silly crusade. This isn’t about you, can’t you see that?”

He stood up and cracked his knuckles before crossing his arms. “You’re right about that. This isn’t about me. It’s about you. I’m doing this for you and one day I trust you’ll see that, so if you’re not changing your mind, then there’s nothing left to say. This discussion is over.”

It was odd. If anything, I thought he would have given in on this one, but instead he hurt me in the worst way possible—taking everything I knew and loved and ripping it right from me. Fuming, hurt and confused, he’d left me no choice. I, too, stood up from the table and made a declaration of my own—“All right. I’m moving out then. I won’t live under the same roof as a man who’s so determined to control me that he can’t see all he’s doing is putting a divide between us.” I walked to the doorway of our dining room, one final look over my shoulder.

Ever since my mom’s passing, I’d feared losing people, but I wasn’t losing my dad, not in the same way. I was pushing him away because I hated how he was trying to control my life.

His lips parted and it looked like he was going to say something, but I had no interest in sticking around for him to say whatever hurtful thing he had on the tip of his tongue. He’d done enough damage, if you asked me. So I turned back around.

Finally, he spoke. “Your mother,” he started, and I froze, not wanting to move at the mention of her.What could he possibly have to say about Mom?“She would be sad to see what you’re doing. You know, family was the most important thing to her, to both of us.”

I didn’t turn around again; the tears were coming too fast and hard by this point. Every word that spewed from his mouth felt like venom. He was killing me and it was like he had no idea. Or didn’t care.

Then the final nail in my coffin came when he ended with, “We raised you better than this, Bianca.”

* * *

Angelo

I had wanted her to turn around, to muster up that Italian fire she had in her—like her mother. Going a thousand rounds with Bianca would have been better than the silent treatment; it always was. But even when she had been a little girl, she’d never engaged like that with her mother or I, just everyone else. No, with us she much rather preferred to remain quiet. The problem was, the silence was more painful. I thought she knew that, too.

I took a step forward and was about to place a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped just beyond my reach and left the dining room.

With each step she took through our house, my stomach fell. I had a feeling that no matter how badly I wanted her words to be nothing more than a threat, that wasn’t going to be the case.Ourhouse was truly about to becomemyhouse. She’d move out, I knew she would, and there would be no stopping her.

I closed my eyes and the vision I had just now of the back of my adult daughter walking away transformed into the little girl I remembered following me around. I saw all the years meld together, like flipping through a photo album. It didn’t matter her age. Bianca would always be my little girl.

Five years old. She was going to elementary school; it was her first day of Kindergarten and she didn’t want to leave us.

Then ten. Then twelve. She was finally going to middle school and smacking gum in her mouth with earphones on her head.

Fourteen and heading off to her first day of high school. I was warning her about boys and their ill intentions.

Sixteen. Seventeen. Dreadful years, but still my little girl. It didn’t matter that she was going to prom, leaving with that Peter boy I never did care for.

Then she was eighteen and graduating high school, walking away after she’d refused to wear the cap because it messed up her hair.

Even as an adult at twenty-one, wearing skirts that were too short and heels that were too high, I’d sworn that she’d be the death of me.

But it was this year that was really going to kill me.

Unless. . . . I let myself hope as Bianca finally stopped walking and turned on her heel, retreating to the dining room where I stood. Maybe she’d realized I was trying to do the right thing. This was the only way I knew to protect her. From the hurt and betrayal that boy was going to cause her.

Bianca whispered, “I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

I went to talk, but refrained when she added, “Pretend I’m dead,” and promptly turned around and walked away again.

The worst part about all of this was, I feared I’d only driven her straight into that leech’s arms.

Knox Rhodes hadn’t even had to lift a finger.

He was single-handedly tearing our family apart without breaking a sweat.

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