Page 83 of Awestruck at Dusk
I was sure he would excuse himself by saying something in the line of,well, the shooting happened, and Caleb died, and we didn’t want to mess with your birthday, and your mother’s death anniversary got in the way, so we couldn’t find the right time to tell you.
And don’t get me wrong. I was glad to know that my father held Nathan in such high esteem. That he approved of him and thought he was a great match for me and all. But I felt like, again, my father was pulling the shadiest puppet master move to turn Nathan into someone “worthy” of his daughter ineverypossible way.
To keep controlling everything related to me.
To keep controlling—me.
And who said I wanted to be with someone just like my father? I wanted Nathan to be Nathan. I didn’t want him to be molded or groomed by anyone let alone, James Murphy.
It became a tricky situation in which I believed Nathan was cornered in a position where he couldn’t say no to him. I knew he respected and admired him, and what if deep down what my father offered him wasn’t what he wanted?
Maybe Nathan envisioned something different for him in the future and felt obligated to agree to my father’s proposal. Or perhaps it was all he ever dreamed of. I don’t know which of the two options scared me the most.
All I knew was that I didn’t want to live a life of being alone, waiting for Nathan to arrive, and being eternally disappointed. He’d already begun displaying carelessness in paying attention to me or simply becoming unable to show up for things that I considered important.
There was always an excuse—a tailored-made explanation for every missed event, every tardiness, every omission.
At first, when Nathan hinted at marriage and started joking about it, I thought it might be a solution to feeling trapped. As terrifying as the idea of marriage was to me, I thought,well, if we get married, I get to unleash myself from my father’s grasp. That’s the only reason why I considered that marrying young wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
But I was so wrong. I didn’t wantthatto be the motivator.
Nathan was the perfect vessel for my father to keep things going as usual. To keep me inside a perpetual cage. All he wanted was to hand over the key to Nathan.
My attention was pulled back to my father’s voice after getting lost in my head for an undetermined amount of time. All I did was nod in the meantime to keep him talking as I digested the bullshit information he had just brought up to my attention.
And then Nathan arrived carrying a big bouquet of white roses.
“Good evening.” Nathan kissed my cheek and whispered, “I’m so sorry, love.” He gave me the flowers with a smile impregnated with regret. “James.” He shook my father’s hand with a grin and took a seat, signaling the server to approach the table.
“I was telling Billie about our plans for Saunders & Murphy,” my father said, sipping on his drink. They had a name for it and everything. I mean, it was an obvious name, but still.
I placed the flowers in the empty chair beside me when the server walked up to our table.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome to Sparks. Can I get you started with something to drink?”
Nathan’s blood had left his face. “Ah, yes. Laphroaig. Neat,” he said to the server with bunched-up brows. He couldn’t look at me, even when my gaze burned a hole through his face.
“This could be the start of many great things,” my father continued. “I’ve told Nathan numerous times how I feel he’d be a great ambassador one day. I know people in the UK’s diplomatic sphere, and I’m sure they’d love to have someone like Nathan in their corner. It could be something worth pursuing in a few years once we get the firm up and running. You know, just like I did with my father’s businesses. They practically run themselves on their own.”
I kept shaking my head now as my father spoke. No. This was officially a nightmare. Was he actually suggesting for Nathan to dive into the diplomatic world? And don’t get me wrong, I know it’s a harsh thing to say, but I’d rather be dead. So, no … Thanks, but no thanks.
Nathan was at a loss for words, which was weird to me since apparently, they did a lot of talking when they hung out without me.
“I’m ah—” Nathan let out a sharp snort with what seemed like a nerve-induced smile, his gaze trained on the empty plate in front of him. “Thank you, James, for the flattery, but I think they might find me too young for such a venture.”
“It could be in a few years from now. No rush,” my father replied. “And you know how I started out young as a diplomat. It’s all about who you know.”
I could tell Nathan was uncomfortable with the conversation. Or better said, with the conversation happening inmypresence. I was so disappointed. Not in my father, of course. To say I was unimpressed was an understatement. What I failed to understand, though, was how Nathan felt about it all. I needed to know, to ask him.
It was so heart-wrenching to feel, again, like it was so convenient for him to keep me around. Just like when Thomas benefited from my relationship with him to make his father “proud.” Perhaps Nathan found it advantageous for his career to be with me. And I didn’t want to think that, but my father made things out to feel that way.
Imagine a scenario of Nathan maybe tiring of me and keeping me around because of my father’s proposals? It could be. And I didn’t even want there to be a possibility for that to happen. Ever. That’s why I hated the fact that my father got so involved with Nathan.
Again, I loved how great they got along, how my father wanted to support him. But he was never one to do things without a purpose. And more often than not, there always was one—a hidden one.
The server brought Nathan his whiskey and asked us if we needed anything else.
“I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.” My father raised a brow in my direction. “Wine’s cheaper than therapy,” I said to him with a controlled smile. “Isn’t that a saying?”
