Page 13 of Infatuated as They Come
“Aren’t you embarrassed that you care about money so much?” I asked, the words flying out of my mouth fast and hard. “If you’re not, you should be. It’s embarrassing and I’m embarrassed for you.”
“Was I wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t care if he gives me a five dollar ring or no ring at all,” I said. “I thought you were over this whole thing. I thought you were starting to like him.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
“We’re gonna be living in the same apartment together in a few days and—”
“Yes, please keep reminding me about that,” he muttered. “I’m allowed to think he’s not good enough for you. I’ll let you two be together, but that doesn’t mean I’ll like him or think he’s going to give you a good future, and I won’t say sorry for that, either.”
“You are so… There’s no getting through to you.” Pressing my hands to the table, I quickly pushed myself up and out of my seat. “Goodbye, Mom. Thank you for breakfast.”
“Holly, sit down,” he said, hand gesturing to my chair. “It was a joke. Come on.”
I picked up my plate, gripping it tight as I moved away from the table. “No one but you found it funny.”
“Holly, sit down.” A sudden authoritative tone had replaced that amused one. “Sit down and finish your breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“You’re ruining our third last ever breakfast together. You’re gonna upset your mother.”
“That was all you,” Mom said.
I made my way over to the trash can, ridding my plate of the remaining half eaten pancake. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t hungry anymore.Those cruel words were enough to ruin my appetite completely. Not even glancing at the table, I placed the plate in the sink and quickly moved towards the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “Holly, get back here.”
“Goodbye!” I called out over my shoulder, my heeled sandals clicking against the floor. Following instructions was something I had always done, especially when they came from my parents, but it was easy enough to ignore my dad’s words with how upset I was. Maybe Sawyer had corrupted me a little.
There was the sound of harsh whispers behind me as I kept walking. My parents were in the middle of a heated discussion, but I was moving so fast that I couldn’t pick up on their conversation.
I let my eyes fall on the clock in the hallway as I moved towards the front of the house, seeing that there was still an hour left until Sawyer was picking me up. I took a seat on one of the steps, my chin resting on my hand, the space suddenly feeling cold and empty and too spacious for my liking.
Our home featured nine bedrooms, all decorated meticulously by Mom and her team of designers. Nine was a lot for a three-person family. Then there was the foyer that I was currently sitting in and the solarium and the home theater and the indoor pool. I frowned. Why did we have so many rooms? I liked Sawyer’s place. I liked how cozy it was, how it always managed to feel so warm and snug and comfortable.
The nail on my thumb made its way between my teeth as I gave it a gentle bite. I had always known that I was lucky. Not just because of the size of my home, but because of how it made me feel. Safe. Secure. Shielded from anything and everything that could ever cause me pain. My father didn’t realize it, but that was how I felt with Sawyer. And even in the past, when he was in my face and I was in his, and we were in the middle of our millionth stupid fight that day, I never felt like Sawyer would hurt me. He never left gaping wounds that would never heal.
And while I was tucked away under warm blankets, my mind never once filled up with thoughts of how we were going to pay for food or the best way to shield myself from the fists of my own dad, Sawyer was dealing withexactly that. That had been his life. But he got through it. Being resilient was his thing. Strong and tough and oh so rough around the edges, but he had every right to act that way after everything he had been forced to deal with.
I kept my eyes ahead of me, ignoring the photos on the wall I had become accustomed to seeing every day. The ones from our vacation to Venice. Honolulu. Bora Bora. The Maldives. I suddenly wanted to tear them all down and take Sawyer on some fancy, exclusive vacation he had never been given the chance to experience.
There was noise to my side. Light, gentle footsteps that I knew belonged to Mom.
“Why does he have to say stuff like that?” I asked.
“You know how he is,” she said with a sigh. “Don’t take it to heart.”
Turning to face her, I was met with her sad smile. She ran her hands across the back of her sleek white dress as she sat down next to me.
“Does he even know how he sounds when he says things like that? He’s not just being rude and mean. He’s being worse than that. He’s being classist.”
Hand wrapping around me, Mom drew me into her, letting me lean my head on her shoulder as the smell of perfume surrounded me: jasmine and rose; a scent I would miss when I was gone. “He doesn’t do it to upset you. He wants what’s best for you, and we both know that he thinks Sawyer isn’t that.”
“Iknow what’s best for me and it’s not the guy he wants me to be with. Maybe he should go marry some boring rich guy since he loves them so much.”
“I know you’re mad at him, but I’d miss him a lot if he did that. One day, he’s going to see why you love Sawyer,” she said. “It won’t be tomorrow or next week or next month. With how stubborn your father is, it’s probably going to be a few years until he gets it.”
