Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Wherever you go, there you are.
Wherever I go, I’ll still have to fight against the memories, knowing I’ll never have him again.
10
SCARLET
It’s almost funny. I’ve been home not even three days, and once again, there’s a ‘big talk’ hanging over my head. Except this time, I’m not dreading an unhappy response, far from it.
If anything, I’m dreading having to put on a happy face. I know what’s coming, and I know everyone will expect me to fall in line with their smiles and praise and such.
I’ve been faking happiness since I got home.
In other words, I’m exhausted. Body and soul.
Yet somehow, I manage to sound normal when I tap my knuckles on the doorframe of my father’s study. He’s at his desk, as always, deep in the process of typing furiously on his keyboard. I might think he was angry if I didn’t know that’s the way he types all the time.
“Dad? Do you have a minute?”
His head snaps up, his expression troubled. I’m used to seeing him this way, caught in the middle of a thought, his mind a million miles away. I can’t begin to understand what it takes to run the sort of organization he does. I’ve heard it referred to as an empire—and while I don’t know the ins and outs per se, both because I’ve tried to keep myself out of it and because sexism is alive and well—I know it must be enormous, considering the hours he puts in.
In our world, the line between business and the rest of life is blurred, even nonexistent. There is no separating the two.
It’s a relief when, after a beat, his expression softens a little. “Of course, I have a minute for you. Five minutes, in fact.”
He doesn’t often try to be funny, so I have to show appreciation when he does. It’s hard to remember how much I was looking forward to getting out on my own and starting a so-called normal life at MIT when I walk through the familiar room my father uses as his study. There’s something to be said for the therapeutic comforts of home. Everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be, where it’s been all this time. Even when I wasn’t here, the world kept turning without me.
He leans back in his chair, lifting an eyebrow when I take a seat with my hands folded in my lap. “Do me one favor,” he murmurs before I begin. “Tell me you’re not throwing your life away on some useless boy from Boston.”
I’m so surprised, I blurt out a laugh. No, it wasn’t a boy from Boston I was ready to throw my life away for. It was one much closer to home. “There is nothing regarding boys that you have to worry about, Dad.”
“Good. Anything but that.” He grimaces almost comically, and I giggle again. He’s in a good mood, which always bodes well. His state of mind can sway the entire family—either you steer clear of him when he’s good and pissed or you can breathe easier when he’s happy.
I’m pretty sure he’ll be damn near euphoric by the time I’m finished. He always is when he’s proven right.
“I’ve made a decision.”
He nods slowly. “You know I trust your judgment.”
He’s feeling especially generous. Maybe he’s missed having me around the way Mom clearly did. I’m pretty sure she resents having to take time to use the bathroom since it means a few minutes she can’t give me a hug or stroke my hair or ask for the hundredth time if I’m eating enough.
“I don’t want to go back to MIT.”
He sits up suddenly, now looking at me with a gaze that promises death and dismemberment. “What happened? Did someone hurt you? Who do I have to kill?”
As touching as the idea is, I hold up my hands. “No violence needed.”
“You aren’t just saying that, are you? Don’t get some foolish idea in your head that you need to protect someone from me.”
Of all the times for my stupid, traitorous heart to throb painfully. I was trying to protect someone from him, wasn’t I? Dad would never have been as hard on me as he would have on Ren if we’d ever been found out.
There I was, going against my father in favor of somebody who wasn’t worth it. That’s right. Keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll believe it eventually. That’s the thing. I need to believe it.
He runs a hand over his chest, smoothing his tie as he lets out a deep breath. “What brought on this change of heart?”
“It just isn’t for me. I thought it would be, but I’m not happy there. I mean, at least I know, right?”
“Know what?” He’s being gentle, gentler than usual, in fact. Probably because he knows where this is going. You don’t get as far as he has in life without possessing strong instincts. Besides, he’s my father. He’s known me my entire life. Sure, he’s been busy for most of it, but there’s never been a question of his love.