Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
The truth is, my parents have never been interested in what I have to say unless it’s something they’ve scripted themselves and forced me to read. In my father’s case, the daughter script is typically recited during public events and accompanied by fake, beaming smiles aimed at his constituents.
“I want you to apply yourself, Mackenzie. A lady should be worldly and well educated.”
For appearances is the unspoken part. Not for any practical purposes, but so the lady can carry on conversations at cocktail parties.
“Remember to enjoy yourself too. College is a seminal time in a young woman’s life. This is where you meet the people who will form your network for years to come. It’s important to build those relationships now.”
As far as Mom is concerned, I’m supposed to follow in her footsteps. I’m to become a glorified housewife who sits on all the right charity boards and throws parties to support her husband’s professional aspirations. I’ve stopped trying to argue the point with her, but that’s not the life I want, and eventually, hopefully, I’ll jump on another track and it’ll be too late for them to stop me.
For now, I play along.
“I know, Mom.”
“What about your roommate? What’s her name?”
“Bonnie. She’s from Georgia.”
“What’s her family name? What do they do?”
Because that’s what it always boils down to. Are they someone?
“Beauchamp. They own car dealerships.”
“Oh.” Another long, disappointed pause. “I suppose they do well with that.”
Meaning that if they can afford to put her in the same dorm room with me, they must not be dirt-poor.
I stifle a sigh. “I have to go, Mom. Got class in a few minutes,” I lie.
“Alright. Talk soon, sweetheart.”
I hang up and release the breath I was holding. Mom is a lot sometimes. She’s been heaping expectations and projecting herself onto me for my entire life. Yes, we have our similarities—our looks, our tendency toward impatience, the work ethic she displays with her charities and I apply to my business and studies. But for as much as we’re similar, we’re still two different people with totally different priorities. It’s a concept she hasn’t grabbed onto yet, that she can’t mold me in her image.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Preston appears with a smile, looking fully healed from his basketball injury and bearing a small bouquet of pink snapdragons, which I suspect are missing from a flowerbed somewhere on campus.
“You’re in a good mood,” I tease as he pulls me from the bench and tugs me toward him.
Preston kisses me, wrapping me in his arms. “I like getting to see you more now that you’re here.”
His lips travel to my neck, where he plants a soft peck before playfully nipping my earlobe.
I try not to raise a brow, because normally he shuns all public displays. Most of the time, I’m lucky to get him to hold my hand. But he’s never been an overly physical boyfriend, and that’s something I’ve learned to accept about him. If anything, the lack of PDA is a plus, especially when we’re around our families. I realized at a young age that masking my emotions and repressing my occasional wild streak were necessary survival tools in our world.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Lead the way.”
It’s a beautiful day, if a little warm, as Pres guides me on a tour across the campus. Our first stop, of course, is Kincaid Hall, which houses the business school. Preston’s family is a legacy at Garnet, going back generations.
Pres laces his fingers through mine and leads us outside again. As we stroll down a tree-lined path toward the art school, I admire the passing scenery. The campus truly is beautiful. Redbrick buildings. A great clock tower over the library. Sprawling green lawns and giant, majestic oak trees. I might not be enthused about college life, but at least everything is pretty to look at.
“What do you think of school so far?”
With Preston, I can be honest, so I sigh. “I’m bored out of my mind.”
He chuckles. “I was the same way as a freshman, remember? For the first couple years until you can start upper level courses, it’s pretty tedious.”
“At least you have a purpose.” We walk past the theater department, where students are in the parking lot, painting what looks to be an old-timey street set. “You need a certain level of education to work for your dad’s bank. There are expectations and requirements. But I already have my own business. I’m my own boss, and I don’t need to get a degree to prove anything to anyone.”
Smiling, Pres squeezes my hand. “That’s what I love about you, babe. You don’t wait for permission. You didn’t want to wait to grow up to become a tycoon.”
“See?” I say, beaming. “You get it.”
“But look, if you really want to keep working on your little tech thing in college, then think of Garnet as your incubator. There’s going to be lots of opportunities for you to grow your brand here.”