Page 71 of Delicate Storm

“You could be,” Dad says, still musing. “I may not know much about your mom’s dealings anymore, but if you’d have asked me, I never would have guessed she’d get caught up with your ex’s family.”

I cringe. “I don’t think he was my ex when she invested.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

“Could she have done it thinking your families—our families—were going to merge?”

My eyes widen as I quickly shake my head. “If she did, she was completely misguided. I never once gave her any indication that we were end-game. I’m not even sure I believe in all that, so there’s no way I spoke to Mom about it.”

“Paige,” Dad lightly scolds, “I hope that's not because of your mom and me.”

“It’s not. Believe it or not, I can make up my own mind. I’m pretty clever like that.”

Dad rolls his eyes. “I know how clever you are. But that doesn’t mean your childhood hasn’t influenced your decision-making. In yourownmind.”

“You’re not that important, Dad. Don’t get a big head.”

I smile like I’m joking, but we both know I have daddy issues. I’ve never shied away from that. Doesn’t mean I need to discuss them with my father. I’m not closed off to the idea of love or marriage, despite what Christian believes; it’s just not high on my priority list. But even if it was, it was never going to be him.

I want someone that sees through my name and my wealth and wants me for who I am. I want someone who is willing to protect me with all that they have but understands that I’m going to want to fly. And I want someone that doesn’t need to play games to determine who’s more desperate. I want someone just as obsessed with me as I am with them.

I want an equal.

And it wouldn’t hurt if he was built like a god, with an expert mouth and fingers that… Anyway, is that too much to ask?

“Have you spoken to your mom?” Dad asks, interrupting my thoughts. “Maybe there’s a simple, noncontroversial explanation. You never know.” His expression suggests he doesn’t necessarily believe that, and it makes me laugh.

“I thought you still loved her? That doesn’t sound like a man in love.”

“Does it sound like a man scorned? She broke my heart. It would make me feel better to discover she was a bad person.”

“Shut up. No, it wouldn’t. You’d hate that. For me.”

“Uh. Why are you so smart?”

“I don’t know, but it certainly doesn’t come from my dad.”

Dad laughs before a puzzled expression takes over his features. “How did you know about your mom anyway? If not from her?”

“If I tell you, I’m going to have to kill you.”

“Paige.”

Why doesn’t anyone ever accept that as a response? Or laugh? It’s funny.

“I can’t tell you right now. All you need to know is that I’m fine. And you don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’llalwaysworry about you. Even when you weren’t speaking to me, I was worried. But I also trust you. Though, I think you should call your mom.”

“I will. If for no other reason than I miss her.”

Dad and I keep the conversation light for the rest of dinner. He doesn’t mention what’s going on with the football team, and I don’t ask, knowing he wanted me to take his mind off things. But it’s obvious that it’s eating away at him, so I make plans to have dinner with him again in a couple of days. My way of checking in because I too worry about him.

When I get back to my apartment, I bring up Mom’s number and stare down at the screen. We’ve been speaking often, with me pretending she’s not still a little annoyed that I left New York, but now that I have something to ask her, I can’t bring myself to call.

Benching the conversation until tomorrow, I’m about to put my phone away when it rings in my hand.

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