Chapter Thirty-Seven
Were you planning to tell us?” my mother asks as soon as I enter the house. Jonathan shoots me a questioning look, unsure he should be here for this. “Oh, you stay. You’re the entire reason she made a public spectacle tonight.”
I swear I can hear him swallow. Priscilla Prescott is in full mama mode tonight, and as much as I wish he didn’t have to witness this, it might be better if he does—if he’s serious about sticking around for… a long time.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask, slipping my shoes off and hanging my jacket. Jonathan tentatively does the same.
“He’s finishing up a phone call. Don’t worry; he’ll be joining us.”
“Where should we sit?” I’m oddly calm. Maybe because I’ve been stressing about college all year, and now that I’ve made my decision, I feel lighter. I always knew my parents would have some sort of reaction. I was prepared for that. I was more concerned about making the right decision for me.
Collin helped without even knowing.
“The sitting room,” she says.
I grasp Jonathan’s hand and squeeze. His palm is hot and sweaty.
I realize this is probably foreign to him.
Standing up for himself without fear of being hurt for voicing his opinion.
He’s opened up more to me recently about what it’s been like, growing up in that house.
And expressing any sort of viewpoint that contradicts his father’s tends to lead to bruises.
I smile to try to reassure him. “We’re good. Don’t worry.” He doesn’t smile back.
We sit on the loveseat. My parents enter together and slide two floral-print Victorian chairs closer together before sitting. This feels very formal. We’re like two opposing fronts. But I’m ready. I think.
“First, your performance tonight was stunning. I know you choreographed it yourself. You should be very proud. I am.” The emotion of her words reflects in her eyes.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” Dad says, “but I’m looking forward to watching the recording later.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him.
Their postures change as they prepare for the conversation. Jonathan strangles my hand, barely breathing.
“It appears you’ve decided to attend Penn State. Were you going to talk to us about it?”
“You knew I was applying,” I say, ready to present my case. “And you know why I was applying.” I swear Jonathan sinks further into the cushions beside me.
“Yes, but we decide things as a family here,” my dad rebuts. “Not on a stage in front of hundreds of people.”
“I decided before then,” I argue, but the wrong point. Their frowns of disapproval have me apologizing. “What I’m trying to say is, this is my decision. My future. And I want you to be excited for me. But I’ve made my decision, fully aware of what could happen.”
“What does that mean?” Dad asks, his law degree in full effect.
“I don’t have to stay. Jonathan may be why I considered the school, but he doesn’t have to be the reason I remain there.
I can always transfer if it’s not the right fit.
Or when I finally decide my career path, I’ll determine if there’s a better choice.
And I can take a gap year and travel if I feel really lost.”
My mother fights a groan. She doesn’t understand the fascination with gap years. She believes travel is earned after working hard for the luxury of it. My dad has a different take. But this isn’t the time to rehash this debate.
“And what do you have to say?” My mother directs her attention to Jonathan.
He straightens and stammers, “Uh, well, I support whatever Sadie feels is best.”
My mother snorts. She literally snorts. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her do anything so uncivilized.
“Don’t mess with me. She would never have considered this school if she wasn’t in love with you. Tell me this, would you stay with her if she decided to attend NYU or Connecticut College? Would your relationship survive if she didn’t attend the same university?”
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “She’s not just my girlfriend.
She’s my best friend. And that won’t change, no matter where we are.
” His voice builds with confidence the more he speaks.
“I love your daughter, and I wouldn’t want her deciding anything solely because of me.
It would hurt me more if she gave up on herself.
Because that’s not the girl I fell in love with. ”
I stare at him. When I look back at my mother, she’s fighting a smile. My dad looks like he’s struggling to swallow something too big to fit down his throat.
“Do you have anything else to say?” Mom asks us. We shake our heads. She turns to my father, who’s deliberately focused on the Persian rug. He shakes his head once.
I want him to look at me. To see how happy I am. He’s distant, and it hurts, like I somehow betrayed him.
“Your father and I will discuss it before anything is finalized.”
“Thank you,” I say and stand. Jonathan scans the room, like he’s expecting more.
“Is it okay if we go upstairs? We didn’t get a chance to talk after the talent show.” Before my mother can utter a word, I add, “I’ll keep the door wide open.”
She nods.
When I get to my room, I spin in excited anticipation of his reaction. He’s still stunned. “So?”
“Uh, which part? A lot just happened.”
“Was it a good surprise?” I ask, my stomach squirming with nerves.
When he finally understands that I’m asking about the performance, the light returns to his eyes. “You let us watch you dance.”
I’m suddenly aware of it, my skin prickling. He saw me for the very first time. Half the school did. “Was Collin there?” I couldn’t find him.
“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him. He couldn’t stop cheering for you.”
I laugh. “And… you liked it?” I don’t know why I’m acting so uncertain. I’ve never needed anyone’s approval when it comes to my ballet performances. Not even my mother’s. I do it for me. Because I love it.
“I’ve never seen anything, or anyone, more beautiful.”
We stand there, grinning like fools. I’m a second away from collapsing to the floor and kicking my feet in the air, not caring if he sees me do it. He’s witnessed my eccentricities before.
“Excuse me?” Dad shatters my delirium. “Jonathan, you should probably be heading out.”
“Right,” he responds with a puzzled stitch in is brow. He moves toward me but hesitates with my dad watching. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Your dad asked me to meet him at his old office this morning,” Jonathan says, locking eyes with me briefly before returning to stare into his coffee cup.
“Did he say why?” I ask at the same time Collin asks, “What did you do?”
Collin continues, “Did you lay out one of the guys talking about Sadie’s legs at the talent show?”
I adjust in my chair to gawk at Collin. “What are you talking about?”
“No,” Jonathan cuts us off. “He’s picking up the last of his things and said it’ll be quiet there.”
“He wants to talk to you alone,” I say more to myself than them. Which means he doesn’t want me or Mom to know about it. “Is there anything he was handling for you before the election?”
Jonathan shakes his head. “I’m thinking it has something to do with last night. He didn’t look very happy.”
Mom’s worry has always been about appearances, thanks to the election. Dad’s concern has been Jonathan’s temperament—and protecting me from getting in the middle of him and Hal. Except Jonathan doesn’t live at home now. My dad has to realize it’s not the same situation anymore.
“Does he know you moved out?” I ask, hoping this explains everything.
“I’m pretty sure the whole town knows,” Collin says, squashing my hope.
Jonathan’s fixated on the plate of food he’s barely touched. “Is he afraid I’ll become my father?”
I brush his hand, seeking his attention. When he lifts his dark lashes to find me, I make sure he sees the truth in my eyes, in my soul. “I don’t believe it. That’s all that matters, right?”
He cups my hand and kisses the palm.
Collin interrupts our connection. “Stop undressing each other with your eyes.”
“You’re forever an idiot,” Jonathan quips with a shake of his head.
“Do you… want me to come with you?” I ask tentatively.
“Me too,” Collin insists, like he’s obviously coming if I am.
I expect Jonathan to shoot us down immediately. “Yeah,” surprises us. “But there’s a reason he wants to talk to me alone, so… maybe just listen outside the door?”
“Eavesdrop?” My stomach constricts at the thought of it. Probably has something to do with being a lawyer’s daughter and having confidentiality drilled into my head from an early age.
“Awesome,” Collin declares. “He’ll never know we’re there.”
I give an imperceptible nod. My stomach is a writhing mess. When I study Jonathan, I recognize an emotion I know well. He’s nervous. And that only intensifies what I’m feeling. His eyes find mine, and I give him a weak smile. “It’ll be okay.”
I’m trying to convince myself as much as him. I don’t think either of us believes it.
Jonathan walks through reception ahead of us. No one is in the office, which is what I expected. My dad has a corner office past the large conference room. I’ve walked these halls pretty much my entire life. I could probably find my way around in the dark.
“Why are your eyes closed?” Collin asks, lowering his voice.
“I don’t think I can do this.” My breakfast gurgles in the back of my throat.
“What’s the worst that can happen? He tells him to stay away from you and threatens to have him arrested if he doesn’t?”
When my face pales, Jonathan adds with a scowl, “He can’t do that, right?”
“If he has an issue with me attending Penn State, that’s between us. Our family is big on talking things out. He wouldn’t talk with you without us.”
“Then why do you look like you’re about to hurl?” Collin asks.
“Because I don’t understand why we’re here. I can’t think of a reason he has to talk to Jonathan alone.”
“Swallow your breakfast, and let’s spy on your dad.” Collin’s not deterred by bloodless complexion.
I frown. Everything about this feels gross, and that’s not just my stomach roiling.