Chapter 9
SARINA
“Look who finally decided to answer. What the hell does a father have to do for his daughter to give him the time of day?”
The first thing that comes to my mind —that I wish I could say— is something along the lines of: ‘Well, for starters, actually be a father.’ But I know it’ll lead to an argument that I don’t have the energy for.
I learned from a young age that the only way to have peace when Michael Tesoro is your father, is to bite your tongue.
Sure, it’ll lead to years of suppressed emotions, and a deep-seated resentment that seems to grow with time.
But, if nothing else, my plethora of daddy issues has given me a great sense of humor.
Not to mention the uncanny ability to disassociate when I feel triggered, which is any and all times I have to interact with him.
“I asked you a question, Sarina Marie.”
“I was busy, Michael, sorry.”
He scoffs. Clearly, I’ve struck a nerve. “Michael? Seriously? Since when is it acceptable to call me by my first name?”
Considering what I would have loved to call him, his first name was the most respectful option. He should consider himself fortunate.
“I have a lot of work to do, what’s up?”
“What’s up?” he mocks, imitating my voice condescendingly.
Nothing new there. If there’s one thing I could always count on with him, it’s that he’ll never miss an opportunity to belittle me. “I’ll tell you what’s up, you embarrassed me. Not to mention destroyed years’ worth of work I put in to secure a business partnership with James’ family.”
What he really meant to say instead of partnership was alliance, but when it comes to anything involving his work outside of his title as a real estate developer, he keeps things purposely vague. Just in case the phone line is tapped.
It's been months since I broke it off with James —the asshole that paid me an unwanted visit at Luxe, and the reason I changed my phone number— but any chance that my dad gets, he uses to remind me of how I betrayed him in doing so.
“I can only hope that things won’t be awkward when James and his family are at Harper and Chloe’s wedding.”
My stomach twists at the thought of having to see James again. The other night was enough to last me a lifetime. “Why would they still be invited?” I ask in an even tone, hiding the betrayal I feel.
“Are you kidding me? It’s bad enough you abandoned their son, but to uninvite them, when your mother sent the invitations out nearly a year ago, would only add insult to injury.”
He drones on, but my attention begins to dwindle after he purposely chose the word abandoned, which I did not do. Though there’s no point in fighting it. That’s his narrative and it doesn’t make a difference what I say to fight it, that’s what he’s going to stick to.
As he continues to lecture me, I pour myself a cup of coffee before grabbing my laptop so I can get to work, and more importantly, tune him out.
A headache starts to form as I scan the contract I’m supposed to edit, due first thing tomorrow morning —on my first day at Turner going along with this would be the end of any chance I have of creating distance between us.
“I refuse to marry someone I don’t love,” I say in protest, leaving out the part that I don’t think I’ll ever get married. There’s no point in telling him that. It’ll only give him more ammo to lecture with me.
“Love? Please, you can’t be that naive. I thought I raised you to be smarter than that.
You’ll be much happier when you stop feeding into the illusion that marriage is more than a contractual business agreement.
Besides, think of how you’re letting your grandmother down.
She wanted nothing more than for you to settle down and get married. ”
I’m not doing this. I hate when he brings my grandma into our arguments as a guilt tactic. “I doubt that.”
“Yeah, well, her will says otherwise. Your little rebellion isn’t just earning you a lifetime of loneliness, but you aren’t getting anything from her estate until you fulfill her wishes.”
“Dad, really, but I have to go,” I say, fighting back tears.
“Wait!” I hear another voice chime in. My mother.
Great.
Out of obligation, I acknowledge her. “Hi, Ma.”
“Hi, mija, really quick, we’re going over the guest list and making the seating arrangement for Harper’s wedding, and since you’re now single.
” I love how my mom says the word with such pity.
That in and of itself is what’s truly pitiful.
Not that I would expect my mom to understand.
She has every monetary thing that she could ever ask for, and apparently, it’s enough to have her go along with how my dad runs things.
I don’t know what has overcome me. Perhaps it’s the years of bottled-up resentment and anger that I’ve kept at bay.
Or maybe it’s this sick need that I have to appease my parents to gain their acceptance.
But whatever it is, it has my mouth moving faster than my brain can process. “Actually, I’ll be bringing someone.”
My dad mutters to my mom to give him the phone, and he doesn’t resume speaking until I hear the clacking of my mom’s heels fade as she walks away.
“Cut the shit. You and I both know there’s no way you moved on from James that fast.”
“Moving on implies I cared in the first place,” I correct him.
“So, this date of yours, what’s their name?”
I pace back and forth as panic ensues. My gaze darts around my apartment as if a name will magically appear out of thin air.
Why am I making this more difficult than it has to be? This is already made-up. What’s another lie? Just pull a name out of your ass, who cares?
My dad’s voice blares through the phone again, sounding increasingly agitated. “I’m not getting any younger here.”
How is it I can’t think of a single fucking name to say? Fuck. Now I wish I had Mr. Armani’s name. I mean, I could say Armani and drop the Mr., but as much as my dad can be a dick, he’s not an idiot. He wouldn’t buy it.
“Earth to Sarina,” he chides. “What’s the matter? I don’t see why this is so difficult. I mean, if you really have a date…”
“Tomás!” I blurt the first name that comes to mind.
Lorena’s brother… who I haven’t met yet and who has no fucking idea who I am, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s a name and it’s what I needed to shut my dad up.
“There you go. Jesus Christ, was that so fucking difficult? I look forward to meeting whoever this Tomás is then.” There’s excitement in his voice, and I know it has nothing to do with the fact that I found someone.
Which I haven’t. But he doesn’t need to know that.
He’s eagerly anticipating me showing up solo. All so he can say ‘I told you so’.
I refuse to give my dad any more fuel than he already has to make my life a living hell.
I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I know one thing for sure, I’m not going to that wedding alone.