Page 47 of The Last Date

“I got you that job by calling in a favor,” he said flatly.

“No, you got me the interview,” I clarified. “I proved myself to get the job, and I’ve been doing that for a year and a half. Collin would never fire me for you.”

“We’ll see,” he said, his fingers drumming on the back of the couch.

“I already have options for other living arrangements,” I said. “I have enough money to rent an apartment. Don’t think that you can control me anymore. You can’t.”

“Your mother and I have never fought until now,” he said, changing tactics.

It was true, I heard them raising their voices over the past few evenings for the first time in my life.

“I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for tearing your family apart,” he said, faking sadness as he shook his head.

“Then stop acting like an ass,” I said, shocking both of us. “I’m involved with a wonderful man. You just can’t stand that he’s not someone that you can control. He’s not someone that you pre-approved. That you can put in your restrictive little mental boxes. Those are your problems, not mine.”

Standing up, I said, “I have to get to work.”

“Don’t you dare leave right now.”

“Or what,” I said, waving my hands in front of him as if he were the bogeyman. “You’ll change the locks? Fine. Then I don’t live here anymore. You’ll cut off my inheritance? Fine. I never gave a damn about that anyway.”

“Do you really want to live in a world where you don’t have our protection?” He seemed absolutely incredulous that I was being so nonchalant.

“Yes. You don’t protect me, you smother me. It took a long time for me to realize that, but now everything is clear. If you don’t like me the way I am, I’ll leave.”

I walked out of the living room, across the marble tiles of the foyer, enjoying the authoritative snap my heels made on the surface. Grabbing my coat, the door clicked shut behind me without Dad saying another word.

As I rode the subway, listening to what Oakley had referred to as my “fairy music”, I found it strange that an argument with my father had clarified my feelings.

Oakley was the one. He never tried to hold me down, or stifle me. On the contrary: he was encouraging me to paint again. And he had been showing me a lot of new, incredible food. He wanted me to grow.

Managing to open the gallery five minutes early, I wasn’t surprised at all when Oakley appeared with coffee and caramel almond biscotti.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.”

He set my breakfast on the desk, and opened his arms hopefully. Snuggling into his embrace, I choked back the urge to cry with relief.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, stroking my hair, my shoulders.

“Big fight with Dad,” I muttered.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he said softly. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is upset you.”

“I know. It can’t be helped.” I paused, managing to whisper, “It was a long time coming, I think.” Swallowing hard, I blinked the tears from my eyes, then smiled up at him. “He actually offered to send me to the art school I was obsessed with when I was seventeen.”

Oakley’s head tipped to the side, pondering. “That could be an amazing opportunity.”

“It’s in Italy. The course is for a year.”

His devious grin made me giggle. “Then I hate that terrible place, and everything it stands for.” His lips pressed against my forehead gently. “Seriously, if you really want to go, I will support you a thousand percent.”

“No,” I said. “I haven’t painted in so long that I don’t even know whether they’d take me right now.”

“Your father could bribe them if he really wanted them to take you,” Oakley shrugged.

Shaking my head sadly, I gripped his hand. “Weeks ago I would have thought he’d be above that. But it’s like I don’t even know him anymore. He’s become...strangely underhanded.”

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