Page 60 of Spencer's Satisfaction
“You’ve already talked to her, huh?”
“Uh…” I don’t want him to think that we went behind his back, or that we’ve been making his decisions for him.
He doesn’t seem upset, though. If anything, he seems relieved and genuinely happy. He kisses my lips sweetly. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Oh, my heart.
Chapter Twenty – Tony
Ispend a few days following the incident at the diner just processing the events and Spencer’s rescue plan. It’s only after the initial stress and panic has faded that I realize I can’t just move in and mooch off him.
Yes, I do appreciate that he was being a good Daddy and looking after me, but I’m still a man coming up rapidly on his twenty-ninth birthday, and I can’t expect all of my problems to be magically solved for me.
I did that at eighteen, when Nonna kicked me out and Tanya stepped in to make sure I wouldn’t have to do all the hard stuff alone. I was there with her, but she did most of the planning. She found our apartment. She organized all the utilities. She even found all the job ads for me to apply for.
It’s time for me to start doing things for myself.
It doesn’t mean that I don’t still need my Daddy to make my smaller life decisions for me. He can still take the stress out of choosing what to eat, or what to wear, or what activities we can do during our free time…but he can’t just decide how to resolve my career woes for me.
He just about blows a gasket -as much as I’ve ever seen Spencer lose his temper- when I tell him that I’m going back to the diner.
“No.” Until now, Spencer has been a perfectly doting Daddy. He’s never had reason to be genuinely angry at me, but there’s fire in his gray-blue eyes now.
“Spencer…” I start and then jump when he smacks a hand down on the dining table’s surface, making the cutlery clatter on the porcelain plates.
A few months ago? I would have cowered, or burst into tears, or begged for forgiveness. But now I have the confidence to stare him down, man to man, and tell him he’s being unreasonable.
It takes a moment before horror washes over his handsome face. “Shit,” he sighs and shakes his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…I hate the idea of you going back there for any reason. Hell, the guys are boycotting eating there on principle.”
My phone has been blowing up with messages of support in the group chat: another difference to the Tony of a few months ago. That Tony didn’t have the sort of support network that I do now. And that support network is partly why I feel strong enough to go back to work.
“I know,” I tell him, reaching for the hand he’s left splayed on the timber between us, while a metaphorical lightbulb suddenly hovers over my head, “and I love that. I appreciate it. But I need to, Spence. At least until I have another means to support myself.”
“But-“
“I can’t be financially dependent on you, Daddy,” I try to soften my words. “I just…I can’t. It’s time for me to prove my Nonna wrong. To prove my school bullies wrong. To prove myself wrong.”
The lightbulb is growing brighter as an idea forms. It’s not the sort of thing I can actually pull off on my own, but I’m going to do some research before I put voice to it.
Spencer’s lips thin. “Why can’t you look for a different job, then?”
“I can,” I answer, having given this a lot of thought over the past few days. Frank meows from his usual perch on the kitchen counter as though he’s backing me up, and I smile. “And I am.” Even if I have to fashion one for myself. “But, in the meantime, I have to go back. I’ve left Betsy and Steph in the lurch long enough.”
I give Spencer time to think about what I’m telling him. He’s always been a thoughtful man. Inclusive and understanding of other people’s perspectives. I hope he doesn’t let our relationship cloud his fair judgment now.
“You know, even Charlie said you shouldn’t go back,” he eventually tells me, in what I’m guessing is a last-ditch attempt to get me to change my mind.
I did know that. In a separate, private chat, Asher and Zephyr and I have discussed it at length. Ash explained that his Daddy is the hyper-protective sort, and that Gerald’s attitude totally got under his skin. But Charlie’s not my Daddy, and even if he was, nobody has the right to make those choices for me unless I give them permission to. Zephyr agreed with me about that, and said that sometimes our Daddies needed a firm hand themselves. They’re just people, too. Imperfect like any of us, even if we do put them on a pedestal.
I’m also not unaware that part of Spencer’s desire to wrap me in cotton wool and make my decisions for me stems from his last relationship. We’ve talked about Emma and their dynamic a lot over the past few months. She was needy, and Spencer loved that, so my neediness to this point has filled a void for him. I don’t want him to think he’s losing that, but at the same time, he has to start differentiating me from Emma. If we’ve got any chance at making our relationship work permanently, we have to be true to ourselves, not to the ghost of his past relationship.
“Yeah, well,” I reply to Spencer, “I understand why. But I’m still the only person who gets to decide that. Well, me and Gerald, I guess.”
Spencer’s face twists at the mention of my boss. “He’s a jerk.”
“You’re not getting any arguments from me on that one. But he’s a jerk who pays my wages, so, until I do find another job -or he fires me- I’m going back to work for him.”
This time after Spencer thinks it over, he exhales heavily and nods. The hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “I’m proud of you for standing up for your rights, Tony. So fucking proud.”
