Chapter 7 #2
Who am I, really, without the men who’ve defined me?
My father’s obedient daughter.
Jamie’s almost-wife.
Zach’s ride-or-die.
Am I just a collection of everyone else’s choices for me, held together with the simmering hope that it will make me whole?
Jenni lets out an exaggerated sigh and pats Chris on the shoulder. “Yeah, I guess that’s what happened with you,” she says, her tone extra sweet, “but look at us now.” She waves her hands in a grand gesture. “One big, happy lunch gang.”
“Mm-hmm.” I look between the two of them, smiling at how happy they’ve made each other.
“On that note, I should probably check on said roommate,” Jenni says, glancing at her watch, then at the two of us. “You know, make sure she’s not outside his dorm with binoculars.”
“That’s convenient,” Chris mutters.
“You’ll thank me later.” She winks, tossing her bag over her shoulder, already heading out before I can ask what that meant.
I turn to Chris with a smile. “Guess that leaves you and me.”
He doesn’t look up, just keeps his eyes fixed on his plate.
“Yup. Just you and me.”
The mood has changed, and I don’t know why. Anxiety creeps up my spine, and my mind starts to race. He doesn’t want to be here with just me, does he? He’s only entertaining me for his girlfriend.
I clear my throat. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m good.” He finally looks up, and something shifts in his face when our eyes meet. Much like earlier, I must not be hiding it well. The worry, the sharp sting of rejection curling in my gut, because his expression softens.
I force a smile, hoping it patches whatever awkward thing just passed between us.
Please let this not be weird. Please let me be wrong.
Chris sighs. “Honey, look—there’s something—”
I cringe when my phone buzzes loudly, jolting us out of our conversation. One glance at the screen and my entire body relaxes.
Zach: Just finished my training session. Thought about last night the entire time. Hope you haven’t forgotten that the left side of the bed is yours. Love you, Honeycomb.
I don’t respond immediately, mainly because I can feel Chris’s gaze on me, lingering and expectant, so I flip the phone face-down on the table and meet his eyes.
“Sorry. Just a text from my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” His brows pinch together, and his mouth flattens. “You’ve never mentioned you had a boyfriend before.”
“Yeah,” I drag the word out as guilt prickles low in my belly.
It’s the first time I’ve actively not mentioned Zach to people I’m hanging out with.
I don’t know—I guess I just didn’t want them to immediately slap a label on me.
Since they didn’t seem to care or ask questions, I didn’t supply any of the information myself.
And even though I’d never admit it out loud, I kind of liked being seen as just Honey. No other expectations were put on me. I was just the girl in their English class who still hasn’t decided on a major.
“I don’t really talk about him much,” I admit sheepishly.
Chris’s eyes narrow just slightly. “Why not? Are you guys having problems?”
That’s his first guess?
“No,” I say quickly, hands up in defense. “No. Nothing like that. It’s just… whenever I bring him up, the conversation inevitably becomes about him.”
“Oh.” He raises a curious brow and great, now I’m going to have to tell him.
“He’s kind of a big deal on the football team.”
“Yeah?” Chris lifts a shoulder. “Wouldn’t know. I stick to the ice.”
Relief rushes through me like a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Chris’s smile fades, leaving him looking bored, disinterested. Maybe he really doesn’t care about things like that. Either way, I don’t bother telling him who Zach is.
“Yeah, well,” I mutter, twirling my fork. “It gets frustrating. I love him. I really do. But sometimes I want to be just… me. Not perceived as someone’s accessory.”
“I get that,” he says easily. “I used to date a popstar. Same thing. People constantly asked what she saw in me. I knew I was punching above my weight, but hearing it nonstop? It sucked.”
I pause, mid-chew. “You’re joking.”
He shakes his head, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Nope.”
I blink. “You dated a popstar. You?”
He shrugs, eyes dropping. “We went to high school together. I knew her before she was famous. Her name’s Bailey Hill. Or that’s what she goes by now.”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “Wait. Bailey Hill? As in Bailey Hill? The superstar, five-time Grammy nominee, on a sold-out world tour?”
“Yeah.” His smile fades. “She was really sweet back in high school. I took her to every prom, and every dance. We had this plan. We were going to go to college together, get married once we graduated, and move back home.”
“Aww.”
He takes in a sharp breath. “Sadly, she went viral senior year, and that’s when everything changed. She moved to LA and just… stopped calling.”
He laughs, but it’s dry and bitter. “Technically, I’m still her boyfriend since we never broke up.”
My chest tugs at the unexpected heartbreak.
The way he says it, the way his gaze sinks to the table like he’s still trying to make sense of it.
Without thinking, I reach over and touch his arm.
“I’m really sorry, Chris. But honestly? Knowing you?
There’s no way she just ghosted you. Maybe she broke her phone, or forgot your number—”
“It’s sweet you think that,” he cuts in, quiet but certain. “But I’m still on her private socials. If she wanted to reach out, she could.”
“Oh.”
“It’s fine,” Chris says with a quiet shrug. “I just think she got tired of the normal life and wanted something flashier. Something that looked better next to all that new money.”
“Well, then she didn’t deserve you,” I say, giving Chris’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “One day, she’ll look back and realize she screwed up.”
He glances at me, that hint of a smile returning. “You think?”
“I know, and then she’ll realize what she missed out on. You and Jenni might still be early days, but you’re super cute together. I can tell she really likes you.”
“Me and Jenni?” There’s a slight crack in his voice before his shoulders drop, just slightly. “We aren’t dating. We’re just friends. I only met her a few days before I met you.”
My brows furrow. That—doesn’t track.
“Really? But you want to date her, right?”
“No. I’ve got my eye on someone else,” he says, taking me in. “But apparently, she has a boyfriend.”
A boyfriend?
Oh.
Right. Bailey. She just went public with some baseball player. Sam Brennon, I think. The internet practically imploded at the news, and the world discovered Carolina Catfish baseball overnight.
“Well, you never know how true the tabloids are.”
“Mhm. Yeah.” He flicks his gaze upwards, then freezes. “Um, Honey, there’s some man in a suit looking at you. When I say looking, I mean glaring. At first, I thought maybe he forgot his glasses or had resting murder face, but no, he’s definitely plotting someone’s death. Possibly mine.”
“Why would Zach be in a suit?”
Chris tilts his chin toward the science building. I follow his line of sight and immediately go still.
Oh, no.
“Dad?”
What the hell is he doing here?
I huff out a breath and close my eyes, composing myself.
“Um, sorry, Chris. I need to go to him, and don’t worry, it’s not your death he’s planning. It’s mine.”
Chris waves me off, unbothered, as I gather the remnants of my lunch and toss them in the trash. My father watches my every slow and deliberate step as I approach, his jaw ticking ever so slightly.
He must’ve flown on the private jet, which makes this even worse.
Shit, maybe I should’ve answered the phone.
“Dad?” I say when I reach him, keeping my voice neutral.
He doesn’t smile or move. He just takes me in.
The daughter he hasn’t seen in two months.
“Hunniford, good to see you again.” He adjusts his cufflinks.
“Is that your new boyfriend? I knew you’d get bored with the football one eventually.
This one looks less of a liability. Still not a Nicks, though. ”
I swallow down my anger. I’ve never really yelled at my father, but at times like this, I really wish I had the guts to.
“No. He’s in my class, and unlike Jamie, I can actually speak to someone of the opposite sex without dating them.”
I keep it polite. Barely. If I let myself speak freely, I’d remind him that Jamie, his golden boy, had slept with half of New England by the time we were seniors.
He couldn’t even remember the girl he got pregnant, but that shouldn’t be a problem for me.
My happiness has never been his concern. Only the family optics.
“Mm-hmm. Good to see you’re still harboring some resentment,” he replies just as dryly.
“Yes,” I say, calm and clipped. “Obviously.”
“Good. Then it might mean you’ll be interested in my offer?”
My brows lift. “What offer?”
He doesn’t waste time. He never does.
“In short? Since you refuse to marry Jamie, I want him out and I want you to replace him.”
A dry laugh slips out. This man hasn’t wanted me anywhere near the firm unless there was a Nicks-sized ring on my finger.
He says nothing else. Just stands there, taking me in.
“Are you serious?”
His expression doesn’t flinch. “Completely.”
“Why on earth would I even consider that?”
He’s out of his mind if he thinks I’d be interested in becoming a pawn in his game.
“Because it will set you up. The paycheck alone means you wouldn’t have to rely on me, or your soon-to-be concussed boyfriend, but I’ll sweeten the deal. The firm will also cover your housing, tuition, and living expenses.”
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. “You are the firm, which still makes me dependent on you.”
He tilts his head. “I’d make you a partner then. That way, your payment has nothing to do with me.”
“A partner? I’m eighteen.”
“I was your age when I joined the firm. You’ll start as a junior partner, but we’ll fast-track you.”
I shake my head and look at him incredulously.
“Your mother tells me you still haven’t picked a major. With such a huge opportunity, I’m sure this would help your decision.”
“You flew here for this?” I ask flatly.
“I flew here for you,” he replies, ready to onboard me right here.
I raise my hand, not wanting to hear any more from him. “I’m not interested,” I say, turning on my heel. My spine straightens with every step. It feels good to walk away from him. For once.
“Hunniford.”
I keep walking.
“There’s something else,” he calls. “Something you won’t be able to say no to.”
I pause. Damn it. Curiosity has got the better of me.
“If it’s a pony, I’m not interested. You have five and won’t let me see one.”
“I’ll throw in visitation,” he says smoothly. “But this is something else. Something I know matters more to you.”
I turn slowly, narrowing my eyes.
He won’t plead. He’ll manipulate. He always does. That smug, knowing smile creeps onto his lips and makes my stomach flip in the worst possible way.
“I’ll give you five minutes,” I say, raising a hand. “That doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to anything, but if it’ll stop you from blowing up my phone, go ahead.”
He smiles like he’s already won, and I know, with every sharp edge of instinct in my body, that I’m about to make a deal with the devil.