Page 69 of Hoax and Kisses
“Sometimes,” she continues, her voice quieter, a little more guarded, “you don’t walk away from a career you’ve spent years building, no matter how much you disagree with the people involved. Sometimes, you stay because you hope you can do something different and change things from the inside. You just… keep going. Even if you’re not sure this is what you want anymore.”
“Zoey…” I clench my fists, my chest tightening just as hard.
Completely wrong. My assumptions about her werecompletelywrong.
Her father is a very lucky man not to be standing in front of me right now.
I turn to her and hook a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so she’s forced to look at me.
“I know what you’re doing, okay? Iknow. You’re trying to show your dad that you can take over when he retires, and I have to be real fucking honest—I don’t knowwhyyou do that. Based on what I’m hearing, you’ve spent years grinding at work, growing the business, doing really groundbreaking shit,if my research is correct. Yet he still can’t see how capable you are. Maybe he just doesn’t want to. And that makes it worse. But either way, the result is the same. You feel like you’re not enough, like you should be doing more to prove yourself to him, like you are not worthy. That drives me absolutely out of my fucking mind.”
“You know?” she exhales, stuck on the first part of my rant, her breath shallow as her face drains of color.
“I do,” I say softly. “Since before we started to pretend to date. I had an inkling. I read a few articles about your dad. Figured it wasn’t a coincidence that while he’s talking about retirement, you’re here, working on a project he couldn’t nail down himself. I was giving you the time to tell me yourself, but after all you’ve just shared, after what you had to put up with all these years…” I inhale deeply. “I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”
“Are you mad?”
I brush my thumb over her cheek. “Yes, I am. At how your dad’s been treating you. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she says, meeting my gaze without flinching. “I don’t know why I so badly want to please him. It’s like a vicious cycle that I can’t get out of. That I didn’t want to get out of until I—”
She shakes her head, swallowing back the rest of her words.
Until she what? Until she came here? Until she met me? Untilwhat?
“No one has the right to tell you who you should be or what you should do with your life. Not even your father. You’re allowed to leave. If that’s what you want, go ahead. Slam the door if it means you can finally find out who you are.” I press my hand to her chest, right above her heart. “Who you really are in here.”
Carl’s kids race past us again, laughing and shouting.
Zoey watches them with a half smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Eventually, she dips her chin, picking around her nails.
I slide my hand in hers, stopping the nervous habit, and stroke her skin. She needs to know she’s not alone.
“For so long, this company has been my whole life,” she says. “I don’t know who I am without it. That’s all I’ve done, day and night. For over a decade. Work, work, work.” She shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her. “I’m not even close to forty yet, and I’m having a full-blown existential crisis in the middle of a fundraiser.”
Cupping her jaw, I meet her eyes again. “It’s okay. You don’t have to put on a happy face all the time.” I don’t tell her she’s pretty terrible at faking it anyway. “It’s a fucking lot to put on your shoulders. Have all the crises you want, anywhere you want. I’ll be right here next to you, holding you up so you can break down.”
Her eyes glint in the soft lights, and for a second, I worry she’s about to cry. “What’s it like?” she whispers. “Knowing you have people who will always be there for you?”
A heavy ache settles in my chest. Nobody deserves to be this alone.
“It’s like constantly having a safety net beneath you. It’s being able to fuck up and knowing your people won’t define you based on your mistakes. It’s being accepted for who you are. And you, Zoey, are so much more than your dad’s version of you.”
How is it that some parents can’t accept their kids as they are? Why do so many of us feel pressured into being a version that fits their expectations? The parallels between Zoey and her dad and Daph and Mom make me want to share everything with her. Show her that I understand what she’s going through.
But this is not the place or time.
Later.
When we’re alone and I have a moment to breathe, I’ll crack open the door to my personal life and talk to Zoey about Daphne, tell her how the world has treated my sister.
She trusted me with this part of her tonight, and I want to give her a piece of me too. Even if I’m terrified to bare myself to a woman again.
I stroke her cheek, and her eyes flutter shut. My gaze drifts to her lips, and for a second, I have this wild urge to kiss her. For real.
Gently, I trace her cheek again, my thumb trailing the flush down to her bottom lip. Her soft inhale brushes the tip of my finger, sending an electric current through me.
I press deeper, only stopping when her lips part.
