Page 4 of Worth the Wait
“Good,” she says as we reach the parking garage. “Because we just landed the biggest contract in company history. Whatever happened between you two, we can’t let it affect this opportunity.”
I exhale, nodding. She’s right, of course. Luminous Events has earned this through years of dedication, creativity, and sheer determination. I can’t let my personal history with Cameron derail my professional future.
And I won’t.
2
“You’re off your game today.”
My father’s observation cuts through my distraction as I watch my golf ball sail wide of the fairway at Riviera Country Club. Again. This is the third shot I’ve missed badly, and we’re only on the sixth hole.
“Just thinking about business,” I reply, pulling another ball from my bag while trying to ignore the way the morning sun catches the Pacific in the distance—the same view I had from Sterling Industries’ conference room when Lianne walked back into my life three hours ago.
“Sterling Industries’ business?” Dad lines up his own shot with the practiced ease of someone who’s been playing this course for thirty years. “I heard the Morrison Events situation finally got resolved.”
Morrison Events. The company that imploded spectacularly eight months into planning our anniversary gala, leaving us scrambling to find replacement vendors who could deliver on an impossible timeline. Their financial collapse had been swiftand messy—something about the owners’ marriage falling apart and one of them absconding with client funds before declaring bankruptcy.
At the time, it felt like a disaster. Now, watching my ball finally land somewhere near the green, I’m wondering if Morrison’s failure was the best thing that could have happened to me.
“We hired Luminous Events this morning,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. “They’ll be taking over with just three months to execute.”
“Cutting it close.” Dad’s shot lands perfectly, of course. “Are you confident they can handle something that elaborate on such short notice?”
More confident than I have any right to be, considering I made the decision based on seeing Lianne Peralta again after four years. But her presentation had been flawless, her team clearly capable of handling the pressure, and her company’s portfolio spoke for itself.
“Their work is exceptional,” I reply as we walk toward the green. “The owner has built quite a reputation in the luxury market.”
“Good. Your mother’s been planning this celebration for months. She has very specific expectations about how Sterling Industries should be represented.” Dad studies the lie of his ball. “She’ll want to coordinate directly with the event planners, of course. Make sure everything meets her standards.”
The thought of my mother “coordinating” with Lianne sends a chill down my spine. Four years ago, it was my mother’s pointed comments about “appropriate relationships” that helped convince me I had to choose between family approval and the woman I was falling for. The last thing I need is her discoveringthat Lianne Peralta, the event planner she’d deemed unsuitable, is now running Sterling Industries’ most important celebration.
“Actually, Dad, I’ll be handling all vendor coordination personally,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. “Given the compressed timeline and the importance of this event, I want direct oversight of every decision.”
My father’s eyebrows rise. “That seems unnecessarily hands-on for a board chair. Your mother has excellent taste in these matters, and she’s been looking forward to?—”
“The event represents Sterling Industries’ brand, not the family’s social preferences,” I interrupt. “I need to ensure everything aligns with our corporate objectives, not Mother’s personal aesthetic choices.”
“Cameron, your mother has been involved in planning major social events for decades. Her expertise?—”
“Won’t be needed for this particular celebration.” My tone carries enough finality that Dad stops mid-sentence. “I’ll handle all coordination with Luminous Events. Mother can focus on being a gracious guest instead of managing vendors.”
Dad’s expression suggests he knows there’s more to this decision than corporate brand management, but he’s smart enough not to push. Yet.
“Speaking of your mother,” he continues, shifting tactics, “she wanted me to remind you about dinner tonight. The Vitales are in town. Charles and Patricia, you remember them. Isabella just finished her fashion degree in Milan and moved back to Los Angeles.”
Isabella Vitale. Beautiful, accomplished, from exactly the right kind of family. The kind of woman my parents have been not-so-subtly suggesting I should show interest in for the past year.
I line up my putt, using the movement to buy time while I figure out how to navigate this conversation. The last thing I need is my parents arranging social obligations that interfere with the Sterling Industries planning process. Or more accurately, interfere with the time I plan to spend working closely with Lianne.
“I have a work situation tonight, Dad. Rain check?”
“You’ve been saying that for months, Cameron.” His tone carries the familiar edge of parental frustration. “Isabella is exactly the kind of woman who would complement your position. Beautiful, educated, understands the social expectations that come with success.”
The same speech he gave me four years ago about finding someone “suitable.” Someone who wouldn’t complicate my life with inappropriate expectations or social awkwardness. Someone who belonged in our world without requiring explanations or apologies.
Someone who wasn’t Lianne Peralta.
My putt goes wide, adding to my growing frustration with this entire conversation. “Dad, I’m thirty years old. I think I can manage my own social calendar.”
