59. Tee
Tee
Later that morning
“ D addy!”
“Hey, snookums.” Dad presses a kiss to my cheek, hauls me around by the shoulders, and jerks me left and right, getting into my face to study me. “Why haven’t you been coming home to visit me?” He pouts. “You only wanna chat with Nonna, huh? I see how it is.”
His laughter is so cheerful that it instantly makes my pulse spike in delight. My lips even curve, which is a miracle considering I’ve been frowning since I searched the ranch and didn’t find Cody in his den or at the stables.
Where is he?!
“You look tired,” Dad chides, bringing me back into the conversation with a bang.
“I’m not. I’m sleeping well.”
It’s no lie. Having a real-life teddy bear is great for catching the Zs. I always used to lie awake thinking about how the world would end or how Pluto got shafted by NASA and why the tourmaline pendant I kept charged on my windowsill wasn’t abating my fear of spiders. Now, Cody has a soon-to-be patented method of distraction.
The best part is he sleeps too.
Yes, a part of that is his schedule. He’s been hella busy with the sanctuary’s guests being sent across the country, one even heading to Ireland thanks to her mother being a natural-born citizen. But I know orgasms and me are helping him rest too.
“Yesterday was Cole’s wedding, so that’s why I might appear more tired than usual.”
“Did it go well?”
“Yes, it was lovely.”
And it was.
(If you weren’t a moron who couldn’t even tell the man you love you’re ready for your mom and Pigeon Creek to know you’re dating without making him think you were breaking up. Honestly .)
Right on cue, he sends me a message.
My heart sinks.
Cody: We need to talk.
“Mom tells me you’re flying out today. Some interview or other?”
I shove my phone into my pocket. “Toronto, yep! It’s the start of fashion week.”
“Zee going, or is she with that husband of hers?” he inquires.
“Just Zee and me. I’ll do her hair and makeup for the interview.”
“It’s not for a job?”
“It’s a magazine interview, Daddy.”
His brows lift. “She wants you to do her hair and makeup for a magazine interview… Since when were you good at those things? Remember that time when you thought eyelashes were supposed to look like bugs?”
“Hey! I grew out of that phase and learned the importance of micellar water. Anyway, Zee relaxes more when I help her and she hates doing this stuff, so it’s all for the greater good. But that’s why I’m here early. I wanted to catch breakfast with Mom and Nonna before we leave.”
He steps into the kitchen. “Do you... work for her, then?”
I snort. “No, but it’s the least I can do because A: she’s my best friend in the universe, and B: they’re letting me live there for free.”
Though he sticks his head in the refrigerator, I still hear his sigh.
That one susurration has me bracing myself for impact.
This is the last thing I need today of all days.
“How long are you intending on staying there?”
“For as long as they’ll have me.”
“And when will that be? Are they going to throw you out of their house?”
“I doubt it.”
If the family didn’t toss me out when Callan and I plotted to besiege them with dogs, I don’t think there’s much I could do to earn an impromptu eviction notice.
(Not that I tell Dad that. He’ll fret about my being irresponsible. Again.)
“I’m sure they’d warn me if they wanted me to leave. And if not, I can set myself up?—”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever I want. Even if it’s a job at The Coffee Shop, Dad, I’m not afraid of hard work. I just don’t want to do...”
“ Boring stuff.” He flicks open the can of coconut water Mom says is good for him. “That’s always been your trouble, darling. Life is boring sometimes. You have to deal with it.”
“I prefer not to, and I choose the path of least tedium.”
“Look, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, but you haven’t been around.” (Gee, I wonder why.) “There’s a job opening up at the end of this semester.”
(Of course there is.)
“That’s unusual.” There hasn’t been any turnover at his school since the second-grade teacher took up a position six years ago, but that’s two jobs now since I came back.
(I have the worst luck.)
“I doubt the high-school music teaching position would work with your process?—”
(Well, at least he knows that much about me.)
“—but Ava Marsten is leaving.”
The second-grade teacher herself.
“That’s a little abrupt. Who leaves midterm?”
“She’s pregnant and has decided she doesn’t want to work after her maternity leave is over. The baby’s due in January.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’d be perfect for the position. You could get started on the accreditation to become a teacher while we?—”
“How am I supposed to get a bachelor’s in education before January?” I drawl, leaning back against the wall, settling in for the fight. (I don’t know why he bothers. I talk circles around him.) “Time travel?”
“We can get someone in temporarily until you’re?—”
“I don’t want to be a teacher, Dad. I’ve never wanted to be a teacher. If that was what I wanted to do with my life, then I’d have studied for the job and I’d have never gone to Juilliard!”
“Juilliard,” he scoffs. “What a waste of time and money that was!”
Outrage has me jolting upright. “You know how impossible it is to get into Juilliard!”
His regret is immediate. I can read his expression like it’s an open book, but that doesn’t lessen the sting. “Look, I didn’t mean it that way. You know I didn’t?—”
“Sticks and stones?” I snipe.
That earns me a glare. “I’m a musician too. If anyone understands, it’s me. I was so proud the day you got in on a complete ride—you had a path, a plan, and recognition! But this is the real world, honey. We all live here. Even you. And you have to accept that whatever it is you’re doing now, sitting on your ass and taking Korhonen charity by the sounds of it, won’t get you anywhere.”
“You’d know if you asked,” I snap, thinking about how busy I’ve been helping Callan with Cole and Mia’s wedding on top of everything else.
“Your mother and I have talked about this.” (Sometimes, I wonder if they talk about anything else.) “You take no responsibilities, Tee. As far as I can see, you’re refusing to get a job. You’re living in someone else’s house?—”
“I’m hardly couch-surfing. You didn’t have a problem when I roomed with Zee in New York.”
“Don’t pretend that this isn’t different. You had a job. You earned your own money. How is this fair to them if you’re not earning money that’ll pay your way? What are you even doing over there?”
“Dad, I played for one of the best orchestras in the United States of America?—”
“Played being the operative word. I don’t and never will understand why you threw all of that away! What do you intend on doing with your life? Why can’t you be?—”
“What? Like Anthony?” I insert. “Is that what you want to say?”
“Your brother chose a path for himself, stuck with it, and did well. He’s married. Has a family. He’s?—”
“Normal?” I pshaw in disgust. “Normal isn’t for me. And this, to be pretty honest, is why I went to Juilliard. There are some fantastic music programs in Canada, but I knew that I had to get away because all you and Mom ever goddamn talk about is me and being normal and doing things like?—”
“Existing in this world! Goddammit, Tee, I love you more than life itself, but we’re not always going to be around. Your nonna isn’t either. Do you know how much we all worry about you? Bills need to be paid, rent has to be paid, gas needs to be paid. Living is expensive! You can’t skim off the Korhonens forever. You need a plan.”
Torn between being stung and hating the immediate gut punch that is the prospect of being without them, even if they are pains in my ass, has me gasping like he sucker punched me.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, sweetheart. I know you hate talking about…”
“You’re not sick, are you? Mom said your blood pressure was high but under control?—”
“I’m as fine as I can be for a fifty-four-year-old,” he says wryly. “But I’d be better if I knew you were settled. Have you thought about what you’ll be doing next year?”
“I’m pitching music to a director?—”
He gapes at me. “That’s your plan?”
“It’s something?—”
“Sweetheart, surely you can see that’s a pipe dream? God knows I love you, Tee, and I recognize your talent. If I didn’t, I’d never have let you take all those damn lessons that cost us a small fortune. But this is it. You’re nearly thirty?—”
“I’m nearer twenty-five than thirty,” I grouse.
“You should know what you’re doing by now.”
“Why should I? Why do I need to? I can go back to New York and pick up where I left off! Or maybe you’d prefer it if I lived in Vancouver and played for the Philharmonics or moved to Ontario! Why do you two have to meddle the minute I’m home?”
“I understand that you needed time to land on your feet, but you’ve been home for months. Are you intending on sleeping on their couch until you retire?”
“It’s the Seven Cs, Dad. Jeez, I have my own bedroom.”
“Why won’t you come home? Our door is open?—”
“Why would I want to when this is all I ever hear?”
“You can’t waste your talent!”
“Make up your damn mind, Dad. Am I talented enough to write movie scores, or am I wasting my time and should throw it aside to be a teacher?”
When he sputters, I know I’ve got him. But that isn’t what I want. I hate arguing with him, and I know he only argues with me out of worry, but I’m so freakin’ sick of hearing it.
“I have a plan. It might not seem like I do, but I do. I’m helping my best friend integrate into this new life she’s in. I’m assisting her with her hair and makeup and they leave me alone.
“I compose all day. I write most of the night. I’m building a backlist of songs that I’m going to pitch to a movie director one of the Korhonens knows, and if/when that falls through, I’m going to persevere until I succeed.”
It’s only as I shout the words at him that I realize how much this is what I want to do. Not playing in an orchestra, but making songs for movies. It’s weird that I never contemplated it before Cody suggested it, but I know this is the right move. I just know it.
With that belief at the heart of me, my tone softens as I tell him, “And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll go to The Coffee Shop and work there for a while. Because, why not? You have no problem with Anthony not having an academic job, so why is it a problem for me?”
“Because you’re smart! You’re so goddamn smart. It’s a tragedy that you don’t apply yourself. You never have?—”
“No, and I’ll never be what you want me to be. You don’t know me, Dad. You just want this cookie-cutter image of a daughter. You think I’ll be a great teacher when I’d be terrible. What about me screams patience when imparting knowledge to the next gen?
“Sure, it’s stable and secure, but that doesn’t feed my soul. When that happens, I get depressed.” Even more tired than I was before this conversation, I sigh. “Look, I don’t want to argue. I never want to argue. It’s mostly why I come through the day, because I know Mom will leave me alone when I’m with Nonna, but if you’re around, you’ll both dig, and I don’t want to have to justify myself. I’ll head out. I have a plane to catch later.”
He grabs my arm. “Tee, we’re not done.”
“Yes, we are. This conversation is over. You don’t have to respect my choices, but you have to shut up about them if you want me to visit! I’ve made my bed, I’m lying in it, and if I get thrown out of the Korhonens’ home, I’ll adapt because that’s what adults do.
“I know I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m focusing on what I’m best at, and along the way, I’ll find people who appreciate that and want to explore my skills.
“I’m good, Dad. You said it yourself. I went the route of least resistance, the orchestra, because I knew that was the only way you and Mom would shut up. But I hated the orchestra. It killed everything in me that was creative. I want to be left alone to create music!”
“Tee, please, baby?—”
“No. I love you, Daddy, and I know this comes from a place of love too, but what I need is for you to believe in me. Is that so much to ask?”
His sigh is soul-deep, and I know it pains him to grind out, “No, it isn’t.”
“You might not have faith in me yet, but I have enough confidence to believe in myself.” My words have him wincing—target found. But I step over to him and press a kiss to his cheek. “Have a good day at the school.”
“Pumpkin, you’ll always have a place here with us. Please, know that.”
“I do, Daddy. Thank you.”
For a second, I contemplate returning to the ranch even though it’s too early, but I stick to my plan to have breakfast with Mom and Nonna.
My mood’s dampened, the usual anxious thoughts noisier than ever, so I smooth my thumb over a citrine pebble tucked in my pocket.
Not that it pacifies my worries about Cody.
I texted him with a ‘Sure,’ but he hasn’t seen it yet.
“You’re quiet, child, but then your ears often stop working after an argument with your father.”
I bite my lip at Nonna’s comment, but Mom answers, “He worries, Tee. You’re his little girl?—”
“Are you guys sick?”
“I have that ulcer and your nonna has some health issues, but nothing too terrible for our ages,” Mom murmurs. “Why do you ask?”
Nonna tsks. “Because your husband, in his infinite wisdom, told her that he wants her settled before we depart this mortal coil, of course.”
Mom sips her espresso, but her tone’s wistful. “It would be nice.”
“Angela.” Nonna knocks her with her cane.
Mom cringes. “Fine, fine.”
I look between them. “What’s going on?”
“How was the wedding?” Mom asks brightly.
Nonna grouses, “You can tell us about that another time. Coniglio , I played your mother those songs you sent Elena Frobisher. Though it’s certainly annoying to have to listen to them via Blanche!”
I can feel my blush. “Oh?”
Another tap from Nonna’s cane has Mom reaching over to rest her hand on mine. “They’re excellent, Tee. We’ve always known you’re talented, but to think you created those songs… I may have taught you when you were a child, but my goodness.” She gives a little head shake.
“You heard my music before,” I point out, stunned by the turn in the conversation.
“These are different. You are different since you came back.”
Aware of where this is going, I wrinkle my nose at Nonna. “I wonder why.”
Her glower is unamused. “I think you’ve found your muse.”
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I mutter, “Maybe. I’m glad you like my music, Mom.”
That earns me another tsk from Nonna.
“They’re truly beautiful,” Mom praises me. “I recognized that song from the musical you were in when you were a child, but it was… like your nonna said, different .”
“Well, I was a kid and now I’m not,” I tease. “My skill set has improved.”
“I heard you tell your father you want to pitch them to a movie director?” she asks hesitantly, fingers squeezing mine in an encouraging way.
“Yes. Cody Korhonen flew with the son of Jerry Majors?—”
Nonna isn’t surprised because she’s heard about this already, but Mom’s eyes widen. “Wow! And he doesn’t mind networking for you?”
“No.”
“I wonder why,” Nonna ponders, but she’s back to glaring at me.
I ignore her. “He’s very kind.”
“That is kind of him,” Mom cheers. “The Korhonens have always been generous though, haven’t they? Aside from Clyde, I mean.”
“Yeah.” I glance at my phone. “I need to go. We’re flying out soon.”
My plan to escape is voided by Nonna, who tugs on my hand. “It is time.”
“It isn’t!” I squeak.
Mom stares between us. “What’s going on?”
If this were twenty-four hours ago and I hadn’t just spent the night alone, I’d have burst with the truth, but…
No.
No buts.
I need to have faith in myself and what Cody’s shown me he feels.
(Plus, I’m awesome. Why would he lie about loving me?)
I cease squirming on my seat. “Nonna knows I’m in a relationship, Mom.”
She blinks. “You are?”
I nod.
“Tell her with whom, child!”
“Why does Nonna know and not me?”
I bite my lip. “Because I didn’t feel like being pressured into marriage.”
Mom pouts. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Ha!” Nonna exclaims. “Don’t lie. It’s not becoming.”
“Can I help being excited about my only daughter’s future?” Her arms fling wide in true (distant) Italian despair. “Punished for being excited, punished for caring!”
I pull a face. “I wasn’t punishing you. I was exploring a relationship, Mom. I already had enough issues… I didn’t need you humming Canon in D Major every time I walked past?—”
“It’s Cody Korhonen, isn’t it?” When I grace her with a nod, she squeals. “Oh, my god! My baby girl’s dating a Korhonen!”
“You don’t even like the Korhonens,” I grouse, both amused and exasperated by her glee. “You think they’re all snobs.”
(Naturally, that goes over her head.)
“You know who Judy Paul’s daughter married? One of the croupiers at that awful casino where Marion Prewet gambled her house away.” She hoots. “Judy was all in my face about how her son-in-law earns enough for Deandra to be a stay-at-home mom. Take that, Judy!”
Drumming my fingers against the table, I glower at Nonna, who just smiles at me. “It isn’t a crime to be happy for your daughter, coniglio .”
“You were bitching about him this summer when he couldn’t get those bikers to stop making so much noise,” I point out.
But Mom already has stars in her eyes, which only confirms that I was right to keep this quiet.
Still, I can’t stop myself from murmuring, “I never did like Deandra Paul…”