Chapter 17 #2
I smile wryly. “For the people you’re raising money for?
Because let’s be real. They’re just the poster children for the real purpose of this party—to see and be seen, to negotiate back room deals and rub elbows with other people just like you.
There’s just enough humanity left in that crowd out there to want a sad-eyed kid as the bow on top so you don’t seem like heartless Scrooges rolling around in your money. ”
The muscle under Dad’s eye ticks. “You make it sound as if you’re not one of us.
As if you didn’t grow up right here with this privilege.
At least we’re trying to make a difference in the world, yes, by hobnobbing with the wealthy, but that’s how change happens on a large scale.
It costs money, Ross. And if money offends your delicate sensibilities, when was the last time you made a difference on a personal level?
I have three MBA candidates I’m mentoring this year through the university, and your mother reads at the homeless shelter four times a month.
” Dad shakes his head, utterly disappointed . . . in me.
But he’s not done. The hits keep coming.
“This is what I was saying. You’re nothing but an entitled brat who’s stomping his foot at any rules or expectations outside the boardroom, no matter how reasonable they may be.
But this time, you’re going to hurt a lovely young woman in the process.
Violet doesn’t deserve this, Son. She deserves better than to be used. ”
I gape, incredulous.
It’s not that Dad doesn’t believe that this is real, not because of the speed or convenient timing.
It’s because he thinks I’m not worthy of Violet, that she’s too good for me and could never actually love me.
In a lot of ways, he’s one hundred percent right.
She deserves the sun and the moon and everything she could ever wish for.
But for my own father to say that I’m lacking somehow stings more than I would’ve ever thought it would.
“I love her, Dad. And I will do everything in my power to provide anything and everything she could ever need or want.” The words ring true, even to my own ears and heart, which doesn’t surprise me in the least.
He shakes his head like I’m missing the point, and I realize he thinks I intend to buy Violet’s affection. He couldn’t be more wrong. She isn’t with me for the money, is maybe the only woman who ever wasn’t, but for her own reasons.
Reasons that are changing, growing, morphing into something different, better. Just like my reasons . . . just like me.
But he doesn’t see that. Not yet. But I’ll show him and show Violet. Most importantly, I’ll show myself just how much I can grow.
I never considered myself a brat, even though my younger days were plagued by pranks and a devil-may-care attitude.
But even with everything I’ve been given, I have worked hard to get to where I am.
Maybe I just played a little too hard too, I realize.
Could Dad’s ultimatum be for my own good like Courtney said?
A way to force me to grow up personally, not just professionally?
That idea sits uncomfortably on my shoulders, weighing me down and reframing so much of my childhood, my adulthood, my life.
“I need to go back to Violet. I’ll see you at the party,” I say neutrally, not belying any of the swirling thoughts racing through my head.
Dad’s a shark, and if he thinks for one second that he’s making headway in whatever this battle is between us, he’ll go in for the kill to drive his point home.
To be honest, I think I need to do a little self-reflection instead, not be beaten over the head with his take on my successes and failures.
Dad takes a sip of his gin. “Don’t . . .”
But I’m already out the door, not wanting to hear the rest of his decree. Don’t embarrass him? Don’t hurt Violet? Don’t be an immature asshole? All of the above?
I swear, I’ll show him . . . what?
What do I want to show him? Because the truth is that Dad’s right.
This engagement’s a sham. I never would’ve done this if he hadn’t forced my hand.
And Violet never would’ve dated me, much less planned to marry me, if she didn’t have a time clock pushing her pace.
She’s doing this out of love, as weird as it is.
But that’s the thing. Dad doesn’t even know why Violet’s doing this, but he already knows what I’m just discovering. Her heart’s beautiful, as beautiful as anything I’ve ever encountered in my life.
I’m tempted to just load everyone back into the limo and leave, but when I reach Violet’s side again, she’s smiling. “Nana’s over the moon. The band leader here knows Sinatra. She’s made him promise . . . hey, what’s wrong?”
There must still be something in my eyes, but I shake my head, forcing myself to smile. There’s no way that I’m going to let Violet know the comments my father just made about me and her. “Nothing. Just Dad had some business news. Nothing I can do about it until Monday, though.”
“Honey!” Mom says, her smile lighting up her face as she comes up.
Dad’s words put a pall over her easy delight, though, making me question whether she thinks Violet’s too good for me too.
Maybe she’s just this happy because she thinks Vi will finally get me to grow up.
“Maria,” she says when she exchanges kisses with Violet’s mom, “it really has been too long. You look . . . you’re going to make a few trophy wives jealous tonight! ”
“Oh, hush,” Maria says, still grinning. “Just make sure you only point me to the single men, okay?”
“Too bad you can’t show off your torta,” Sofia interjects, grinning. “Best way to a man’s heart is to let him nibble your pie!”
“Uhh . . . excuse me?” Mom says while I try not to laugh.
Leave it to Sofia’s blunt craziness to get me out of my head and into the moment. There will be time enough for self-recriminations later. For now, I need to remember that we are mid-show, the flashes of cameras reminding me that everyone’s watching.
“Mom, this is Violet’s Aunt Sofia,” I say, introducing the two. “She’ll tell it to you like it is, and she’s one of the best cooks I’ve ever met.”
“Knew Violet picked right,” Sofia says, giving me an almost starry-eyed smile. “Ross, if I were forty years younger—”
“You’d still be too old for him!” Nana teases, making everyone laugh.
Mom shows us to our table before someone calls her away for more duties. Pretty soon, all the guests have arrived and dinner is served. I’m encouraged when Mom, Abigail, and Courtney all join us at the same table, although when Dad joins us, his look is best described as stony.
“They got Taylor Richardson to speak this year,” I tell everyone for distraction, nodding toward the VIP table nearby, where the city’s most famous face sits next to the lieutenant governor and his wife.
Taylor gets up to make a speech, and while it’s cookie-cutter, pretty much fitting any charity event from ASPCA to the YMCA, he delivers it well, and there’s plenty of applause when he’s done.
“You know, Morgan, you have quite the son,” Nana says, trying yet again to strike up a conversation with Dad.
Unfortunately for her, most of his replies have been grunts or one-word answers, to the point he’s damn near come off as a caveman.
“He’s been so kind. And the children he and Violet will have .
. . oh, my, you’re going to have to hire security to keep them in line and safe.
Did Violet tell you that twins and triplets run in the family?
” She winks and laughs, like she’s letting us in on a big family secret.
Violet half chokes on her white wine, spraying her plate a little as she tries to control herself. “Nana, it’s a bit early for that talk, don’t you think?”
Dad’s eyes cut to me, hot fire burning in their depths.
Once upon a time, that look would’ve terrified me, gotten me to stop doing just about anything in my desire to please him.
Now, I throw my arm over the back of Violet’s chair and pull her closer to me.
He grunts, which Nana takes as a response to her joke.
The band strikes up a tune, and I decide maybe a little dancing is just what we need. It’s a lot better than encouraging them to keep on about me and Violet making babies.
“I’ll save mine until they play Sinatra,” Nana says when I offer her my hand. “Go on, now. Show your woman there some fun.”
I nod, holding my hand out to Violet, who takes it almost shyly. I chuckle a little when a couple of young men come over to ask Vanessa and Marissa for dances, but I lose track as I pull Violet into my arms and we start to move.
I make a show of it, doing my best to pull up everything that I can remember from the social dancing classes Mom insisted I take in junior high school, what I can think of from being forced to watch DWTS with Abi, and whatever my mind can come up with to distract Violet from the tension in the air.
I twirl her, I swing her, and we practically parade around the dance floor as the bandleader plays some up-tempo jazzy music, downshifting only when I’ve got Violet leaned back, her hair thrown back and her body stretched out in my arms. “Now that’s how you finish a dance,” I say against the skin of her neck before pressing a soft kiss there to test her pulse. It’s beating almost as fast as mine.
“Whoa,” Violet says, smiling and a bit hazy-eyed as I straighten her up and pull her closer for a slower song, a sultry instrumental version of Waiting For A Girl Like You by Foreigner. “Look at you with all the moves.”
I drop my voice, whispering hotly in her ear. “I’ll show you some moves when we get home.” Flirting with her is easy, comfortable ground, and desire works its way through me in a flash.
Violet chuckles ruefully. “Even if it means twins? Or triplets?”