CHAPTER 19 A Thanksgiving Dinner with a Twist of Gossip
November 25, 2010
“Wine, please.” I smiled at the server and returned my attention to my dad, who arrived at our Thanksgiving dinner carrying his freaking briefcase. It wouldn’t have been beneath him to pull out his laptop and make a few calls while we waited for our order.
“Macallan 18 for me, please.” He offered our server the warmest smile, the kind I used to elicit from him before we moved to New York. “Neat.”
My dad and I hadn’t spoken much since I last saw him. Everything he wanted to communicate to me came through Aaron or his personal assistant, Miss Patty. And even so, there wasn’t much he had to say other than, “I’ll be leaving town for a few days.” Or “Mimi will drop by to gather her stuff and say goodbye to you tomorrow at noon.” Stuff like that.
That’s why I expected this dinner to be awkward and our conversations to feel forced. But I was willing to make an effort and be civil if he could at least try to be respectful.
“I know this might sound strange, but is Mimi still coming into my apartment to clean?” I asked. There’d been more than a few times where I swore I’d left my bed unmade and the kitchen sink filled with dirty dishes, only to return home from work to find the bed made and the sink empty. I began suspecting my dad was sending Mimi not only to help me but to “inspect” and report back to him.
Option B consisted of me not being able to remember since I was juggling so much at the same time. And I wasn’t methodical about such things. If I had the time, I would make my bed and clean up, but if I was in a hurry, I didn’t mind leaving stuff as it was to take care of it later.
“No, she’s not.” My dad’s brows pulled down. “Why? You think someone’s coming inside your apartment when you’re not around?”
I instantly regretted having asked that question.
“No, it’s just that—”
“See?” he interrupted me brusquely. “This is why uninstalling the surveillance cameras outside your apartment was a bad idea.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Cabernet,” the server said, placing the glass in front of me. Bless him. God knew I needed it. He set my dad’s drink on the table and asked if we were ready to order.
“We’ll both have the prix-fixe dinner, please,” my dad replied without consulting me, taking the glass to his lips to take a sip. He clicked his tongue. “Thank you.”
If ordering in my stead gave him a false sense of control over me, so be it.
The server nodded and walked away.
“I highly doubt someone’s sneaking into my apartment just to make my bed and clean the dishes,” I said in a snarky tone. “Forget that I asked.”
He held his glass and swirled the amber liquid inside it as he considered me in silence, but then he let it go.
After a few minutes of bland and slightly passive-aggressive small talk, my dad grabbed his briefcase from one of the empty chairs and pulled out a manila envelope. He tossed it on the table next to the bread basket.
Let me guess: another contract?
“Open it.” He jerked his chin at the envelope and lifted his glass to take a final sip, draining his drink.
Hesitating, I reached out for it and peeked inside to see a few magazines and letter-sized pages printed in black and white. “What’s this?” Instinctively, I looked around the place, curious to see who would bear witness to our interactions in case my father decided to make a scene regarding the contents of the envelope.
“Why don’t you take a look at it yourself.”
It was a copy of Icon Magazine, the same one someone had left on my desk the day before, as well as printed articles from what seemed like online gossip sites. Our faces were splashed all over them.
These people weren’t fucking around or wasting any time. There was an article showing photos of me and Liam leaving Haute Couture’s building and a shot of Tobias and me eating at Bernie’s Burger. The article implied I was “keeping myself busy” with Liam and Tobias while William was away working.
Fuck.
“I’ve already seen these,” I said with a straight face, tossing the magazine and pages back on the table, not bothering to look at the rest. Although I was sure my dad recognized the disgust I failed to disguise and the anger blazing through my veins.
It was unfair to have been portrayed that way. I knew this wouldn’t affect things with William, but I didn’t want him to worry or get upset when he was gone, and he still had a few weeks left before he would return.
“I’m afraid you’re not done.” My father leaned back on his chair, propped his elbow on the armrest, and held his tumbler close to his fabricated and rehearsed stoic face.
Sighing with evident annoyance, I perused the articles, which were all a rehash of the same story. But the last page jumped to my attention. I brought it closer to my face and saw a photo of William stepping out of a restaurant with a woman close behind him. They were both covering their faces from the flashing lights.
I skimmed through the nasty gossip piece that implied William wouldn’t settle down anytime soon for anyone and questioned the legitimacy of our relationship.
Not only was this getting messy, but I couldn’t help but feel jealous about who this mystery woman was. She wasn’t William’s co-star; the one he mentioned was married. Not that there weren’t any more actors in the film. I just didn’t know who they all were. And this woman could’ve been an actress or a friend. But either option made my stomach churn.
There had to be an explanation for the photos. I’d learned in the past how these things are fabricated to benefit the interest of whoever is behind the story. And not only that, but William had proved time and time again that I could trust him. And I did.
So I lied.
“That’s a friend of William’s,” I said calmly. “He told me he’d be meeting her for dinner.”
“Mmm.” My dad drained his drink and settled the short tumbler on the table with a calculated thump. “What’s her name?”
Damn it. “R-Rosie.” But I hesitated a second too long before answering.
“You don’t need to cover for him,” my dad said. “We all know his reputation, and—”
“Stop.” The single word came out of my mouth like a plea.
“I don’t need yours to become tainted by this.” He ignored me and carried on with his argument. “This is just the beginning of what’s coming your way. And soon, you’ll realize that he won’t change. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
“Dad, please.”
“He can’t,” he carried on with his monologue. “The power and influence he has over women due to his celebrity status will always weigh more in the relationship scale. He can have anyone he wants at the snap of his fingers, and—”
Luckily, our server came to the rescue by bringing the first of five courses to our table, making my father stop talking. He offered a brief explanation of our dish and excused himself.
The roasted red pepper bisque looked exquisite, but my appetite was gone.
“Why did you even bother to meet up with me?” I grabbed my purse and bunched up the strap in my hands, a clear indication that I intended to leave. “You seem thrilled with the idea of seeing my relationship with William fall apart. If you genuinely loved and respected me, you wouldn’t go out of your way to compile this bullshit dossier for me.”
“Language,” he gritted out.
“And no, I don’t know who that woman is, but I trust him,” I confessed. “Not that you would know the meaning of that word.”
“Enough!” He cleared his throat and looked around the tables close to us, but everyone seemed unfazed as they talked and laughed with their loved ones.
“I’m leaving.” I shook my head with disappointment, feeling my breaths getting shallower and more agitated by the second. “You don’t have to pretend to care anymore.”
I pushed back the chair and braced my hands on the armrest to lift myself from my seat when my dad snapped, “Sit.”
I did, but the movement was slow, and I made sure my gaze was fixed on his.
“Eat.” He looked around the place again, but everyone was too happy and cheery to give a damn about our pathetic interaction. He grabbed his spoon like he was hosting a dinner for the president and tasted the soup in that rehearsed elegant way. “You can leave after we’re done with our Thanksgiving dinner. But you will not humiliate me.”
Tears pooled in my eyes, but I swallowed them back, along with a spoonful of soup after the other.
We remained painfully silent for the rest of our five-course meal, and once the check arrived, I offered to pay my half just to piss him off. But the four glasses of wine I ordered to get through dinner must’ve bugged him even more. I quickly realized it was a mistake to drink that much. It only made me feel sadder, angrier, and more miserable than ever.
He dismissed my offer to pay by silently lifting a brow at me and tossing his Centurion Card inside the leather billfold.
I grabbed my purse and said with an artificial smile, “Same time, same place for Christmas?”
“We are not done here,” he gritted out. “I will not allow you to disrespect me this way.”
“If you want my respect, you need to earn it back.” I stood. He had no idea how much I adored and admired him. But was our relationship ever real? I couldn’t allow myself to fall into that rabbit hole. Not now. I needed to get out of that restaurant.
“Guillermina.” His voice was low, but the warning in his tone was unmistakable. Don’t you dare leave. But I’d already stayed for far longer than I should’ve.
“I can’t do this anymore.” A sob choked me the moment I turned around, and the tears I’d been withholding for the past hour and fifteen minutes streamed down my cheeks. Aaron was waiting for me inside the restaurant near the hostess station. When he spotted me, his brows pulled down.
“Miss Murphy.” His voice was filled with concern, but I couldn’t make myself look at him.
“Let’s go.”
As we exited the restaurant, the sudden shift in temperature slapped me hard in the face. Aaron had the car parked by the curb, and he was quick to get the door for me, but I went for the front passenger seat instead.
“I don’t want to ride in the back alone,” I said with a hiccup, looking behind my shoulder to ensure my dad wasn’t following us. The coast was clear.
His eyes softened, and he nodded as I pulled the handle to hop inside. He joined me quickly and drove away.
“I’m sorry you have to work on Thanksgiving.” I pressed my temple with two fingers and flicked my gaze away from him, trying to stop the tears with no success. He fetched a box of tissues he kept inside the middle console storage unit and offered it to me.
“I couldn’t care less about Thanksgiving.” He stopped at a red light and turned to look at me. “What happened?” His tone was clipped. Aaron cared about me and didn’t enjoy seeing me in this condition. But this wasn’t our first rodeo. He’d witnessed more than a few instances where my father did something to upset me to the point of tears. And I knew Aaron was a man of few words. He hadn’t needed them back when Caleb was around to step in to console me and talk to me when needed, so I appreciated him making an effort to express his concern to me now.
“More of the same.”
“Mmm.” The light turned green, and Aaron gripped the steering wheel while he sped down the empty streets of New York toward my apartment.
“He wants me to end things with William. He doesn’t trust me.”
Aaron let out a breathy and annoyed chuckle. “Your father trusts no one.”
“I know.”
Those were the only words uttered between us on the short ride back.
Not having William around was becoming more challenging than I expected. Not only did I miss him like crazy, but I needed his presence, to have his arms wrapped around me to give me the reassurance I needed to know everything would be okay. It wasn’t a matter of mistrust. I trusted him. So much.
But I felt so alone. More than anyone, he knew how to make things feel better in two seconds. But he was busy. I’d talked to him before I met my dad for dinner, and he had told me he would be filming for the next eight hours and wouldn’t have his phone with him.
“Do you want me to walk you up, Miss?” Aaron offered when we walked into the lobby.
My heart warmed. That was something Caleb always did, and he knew it. But Aaron had never offered to do so. It wasn’t necessary, though, but I thanked him all the same.
“I’m going to the 14th floor with the Sj?bergs,” I explained. The tears had subsided, but the emotional whiplash was still very much present. And if William couldn’t be here, at least I had his family, who served as a solid support system.
“Okay.” He clicked on the elevator button for me, pressing his lips into a small smile. “Text me if you need anything, Miss. I’ll take the stairs.” The doors opened.
“Will do,” I said, stepping in. “And thank you.” I held the elevator doors with my arm. “For … you know, everything.” Being vulnerable with Aaron and allowing him to “comfort” me in the only way he knew how would forever remain a work in progress. But I was thankful for him. Even the few words we exchanged were helpful because they were filled with genuine understanding. If anyone knew my father well enough besides me, it was him. That was the main reason why words were superfluous. Not much needed to be explained when Aaron understood the types of wounds my father would usually inflict on me.
“Of course.” He said good night and waited until the doors closed to walk away.
I hadn’t texted Lily to confirm I’d be stopping by after having dinner with my father, but I knew for a fact they’d still be there drinking, celebrating, and having fun.
When I rang the doorbell, I could hear the laughs and chatter inside. It made me smile because I knew coming here would take my mind off things. At least momentarily, even if my head was buzzing from all the wine and the angry tears I’d shed on the way here.
“Coming!” A too-familiar voice shouted as they approached the front door.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
The door slid open, and my eyes widened for a few beats, stunned by the presence of the man standing before me—a man I used to love.
“Murph.”