Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Andi
“How nice of you to join us.” Quentin Welling looked down his long nose at me.
I slipped into the seat between him and my mother. “Nice to see you too, Dad,” I said. I didn't bother to point out I was five minutes early.
Cynthia Welling clicked her tongue. “Don't be passive-aggressive, Andrea.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I said in my best placating tone. Would she prefer I was aggressive-aggressive? I could do a lot of damage with a salad fork if I wanted to.
She sniffed and picked up her menu. “I hear the seafood salad here is divine. And the Waldorf salad as well.” She eyed me meaningfully.
I picked up my own menu and skimmed it. None of the items had prices. Exactly the kind of place my mother adored. She didn't want to think about spending money. According to her, if you had to think about it, you didn't have enough of it. Easy for her to say, when she was married to a self-made billionaire.
I hated the pretentiousness of places like this. Everyone was self-important and had some kind of agenda. Most of the people only ate here to be seen. Sure, the food was some of the best on the east coast, but Chantelle's was mostly about being rich and showing off.
“I think I'll have the ravioli,” I said. “The one with beef inside. And some garlic bread.”
“Andrea,” Cynthia started. “Are you sure about that?”
I looked her straight in the eye and smiled. “I'm certain.” I leaned over and placed my hand on hers. “But by all means, enjoy a salad.”
I sat back and placed my hands in my lap. She rarely made direct comments about my weight, but I was done taking her indirect ones. I tolerated it from the people around me for too long, including Xander.
Quentin snorted. He never openly agreed with the things she said, but he didn't tell her to stop it either. No, he had his own ways of judging me .
“Something to say, honey?” Cynthia asked, her tone bordering on venomous.
“Nothing at all,” he said, without looking up from his menu. “How's the hockey team going, Andi?” Unlike my mother, he rarely called me Andrea. Mostly because I didn't answer to it from anyone but her. And only from her because I knew she wouldn't budge. It wasn't worth starting a war over.
“Good,” I said lightly. “How's the development side going without me?”
He finally lowered his menu and looked at me with eyes that matched mine. “Slowly,” he said with a grunt of displeasure.
“Your father has already fired two people he hired to replace you,” Cynthia said. “I keep telling him to sell that team and bring you back to the office where you belong. You have better things to do than play around with that nonsense. I have no idea what he was thinking.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
“I'm enjoying the challenge,” I said, trying not to bristle too visibly.
It didn't surprise me my father went through a couple of replacements already, but they probably quit, rather than being fired. He'd never been an easy man to work with, or for.
“But if the development side is suffering.” Cynthia looked at Quentin meaningfully.
I felt as though I'd stepped between two land mines. Either way I moved, I risked being blown up.
Now that I thought about it, I couldn't remember a time when I wasn't placed in the middle of them, usually deliberately. One or the other expected me to take sides. Or at least mediate. That was what I usually did; try to calm them down until they found some kind of common ground.
But as I sat there with them, in the extravagant opulence of one of the most exclusive restaurants in Lowball Bay, I knew I didn't want to do it anymore. In the short amount of time since I'd started working with the Sea Dragons, I had more independence than I ever had before in my thirty years of life. Being away from them was good for me.
I caught the eye of a server. He nodded and hurried over to take our orders.
The ceasefire that lasted while he stood there ended when he moved away.
“I'm sure Andrea would like to return to work with you in your office,” Cynthia insisted.
“Andi is where she is for a reason,” Quentin replied tightly. He seemed to be rapidly losing patience with the subject.
“What is that reason?” my mother snapped. “Because if we're losing money because of her absence, then this nonsense needs to end.”
“The losses aren't significant,” Quentin argued.
“Then why is she there?” Cynthia demanded. “Why in the everloving hell did you buy an ice hockey team?”
Could a hole please open up under my chair and swallow me? I thought.
The universe didn't oblige.
“Because she needed a challenge,” Quentin replied. “The opportunity to further develop her skills. To succeed in business these days, a CEO has to be well-rounded.”
“She’ll be well-rounded all right,” Cynthia muttered.
I stared at her. Had I heard her right? Had she really said something so bluntly mean about me?
She stared back at me. Blinked a couple of times. “That wasn't what I meant.”
“I think it was,” I said coolly. “I think you've been wanting to say that for a very long time. You know what? I don't give a shit.”
“Andrea, language?— "
I interrupted her. “My name is Andi, and I'll speak how I want to. I'm comfortable with the way I look and I don't give a fuck if you're not. That's your problem, not mine. I'm not going to sit here and take bullshit from you anymore.” I shoved my chair back, letting the feet scrape painfully across the floor before I rose to my feet.
“Andrea,” Cynthia hissed. “Don't make a scene.”
“Let her go,” Quentin said wearily. “You were out of line. You should know better than to comment on her appearance.”
Cynthia turned back to him and the battle continued as I wound my way through the tables and out of the restaurant.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
I told myself that, over and over again as I walked across the road to the beach. Through a haze of tears, I managed to avoid being run over. That would have been a bad end to a frustrating afternoon.
I found an empty bench and sat, careful to avoid the pile of seagull droppings that decorated one side. My hands in my lap, I closed my eyes, breathed in the fresh sea air and attempted to breathe out my anger.
Manifest peace , I told myself. Don't let her undermine you.
I should be used to her shit by now, shouldn't I? I'd had a lifetime of her making not-so-subtle hints about everything she didn't like about me. Every disappointment and disapproval. Every toe I dared to put out of line.
Shouldn't I have thick skin by now? Why was this getting to me the way it was?
I buried my face in my hands and struggled to regain my composure. I knew the answer.
It started with Xander leaving, and extended to the first interaction with Cam. The way he looked at me like he wanted to eat me up, at the same time as he wanted to spit me out. He hated what he thought I was, even while the attraction sparked between us.
My insecurity made me wonder if it wasn't puck bunnies he didn't fuck, it was women like me. Women with curves. He wasn't the first man to think the way my mother did. He wouldn't be the last, either.
I wanted to tell myself he didn't. I saw the way he looked at me. The way his rare smiles were directed at me. The way he'd teased, laughed with me at my awkwardness when I talked about his stick.
I didn't think for a minute he bought it when I claimed I wasn't checking out his ass. I was absolutely checking out his ass. How could I not? It was so perfect and round in his hockey shorts. Even better in his jeans.
How many times did I have to remind myself we couldn't be more than colleagues? Nothing more than friends. I shouldn't have been checking him out.
I spent years struggling to maintain professional relationships with the people around me. Even when they treated me like I was only there because of who my father was. Some of them didn't like that about me, and some saw it as a foot in the door if they had a relationship with me.
Only people like Rafe saw me for who I was. Smart, competent and professional.
Maybe my mother was right and I should step away from the team, before I screwed everything up.
On the other hand, I could prove everyone wrong instead. I lowered my hands from my face and curled them into determined fists.
Yes, that was exactly what I'd do. I'd prove to everyone I had what it took to be the best damn team owner the Sea Dragons ever had.