Chapter 5
Tallulah
Jamison waved over the waiter.
"Yes, sir?"
"I'm gonna need more wine."
"Yes, sir."
As he walked away, I turned my attention to Manuel and my daughter. "September twentieth is an ambitious timeline. Why the rush?" I asked.
"We're in love. We figured, why wait?" Blossom shot a glance at Manuel.
They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. I had been overwhelmed by the complications of my wedding and its planning, even though Karl and I were engaged for over a year. Three months was not enough time unless Blossom and Manuel weren't planning a formal affair.
"Are you doing something small, like going to the courthouse?" I asked.
They both laughed, as if my suggestion was completely ridiculous.
"We want to have a regular wedding with friends and family celebrating with us," Blossom replied.
"Then you need time to plan. You have to find a venue, shop for a dress, plan the menu, send out invitations. There's so much to do, Blossom."
"We know, and we'll accelerate our timeline."
She spoke in a reasonable voice. So young. So idealistic.
"How do you plan to pay for this wedding in three months?" Jamison interjected.
Manuel responded this time. "I'm going to use the money in my brokerage account."
"Like hell you are!" Jamison said in a low, vehement voice.
Manuel's cheeks reddened. "It's my money."
"For your future," his father countered.
"Blossom is my future." Manuel's lips firmed.
Though he wasn't thinking clearly, his reply was very romantic. Jamison clearly didn't agree, because his lips flattened in annoyance.
"Weddings are expensive, and the budget would eat through the money in your account," he pointed out.
"I have plenty, and I won't use it all. Getting married is an important event. Blossom and I want to have the type of wedding that we want, but we're going to be very thoughtful about the budget."
Jamison leaned across the table. "Marriage is more than warm fuzzies and vibes. It's responsibility. It's work. It's a fifty-fifty partnership—"
I let out an involuntary laugh. To cover, I immediately shoved a morsel of salmon in my mouth.
Jamison glared at me. "Did I say something funny?"
I considered ignoring him or lying and acting as if what he had said was not the reason for my laughter. Then I changed my mind.
"What part of marriage is fifty-fifty, and how do you keep score?"
He appeared annoyed, shifting in his chair to face me fully. "No one is keeping score, but each party should be able to contribute financially."
A loaded comment if I ever heard one. I had no doubt he was talking about my daughter because she didn't have a job yet.
"Dad!" Manuel exclaimed.
I sat up to my full height, turning to face Jamison too. "There is more to marriage than the financial aspects, and each party can contribute in different ways, such as caretaking, cooking—"
"The top two reasons for divorce are cheating and financial problems, so I think my opinion trumps yours, and right now we're talking about money."
"How much money is enough?" I asked. "Marriage is not a business transaction. It should be about love and compatibility, but I guess you don't understand that because it doesn't fit on a spreadsheet."
"Mom, please!" Blossom hissed.
I heard my daughter but ignored her, having flashbacks to similar arguments with her father about money and structure and the way he prioritized them in our marriage.
Manuel seemed more level-headed than his stuck-up, rigid father, but I was concerned Jamison could exert influence over him, to the detriment of my daughter.
No way in hell was I letting her marry into this family. I did not want her to go through the same crap I had to deal with while married to her father.
"I understand plenty about marriage, Ms. Washington, and I understand that love doesn't pay the mortgage. Compatibility doesn't keep the lights on. When things get tough—and they will—a couple needs a solid foundation, which means stability and both parties pulling their own weight."
What an insufferable pig!
"Pulling their own weight?" I repeated, my voice going up an octave.
"What does that mean, exactly, Mister Harris?
Earning enough money to meet whatever arbitrary standards you've outlined?
Because I'm starting to think you don't believe my daughter is good enough for your son simply because she hasn't found a job yet. "
"I never said—"
"You didn't have to! It's written all over your smug face." I gestured at his head, my bracelets crashing against each other with the movement. "I'm sure you've been calculating her worth all night, trying to determine if you should plug her into the liability or asset column."
I watched with satisfaction as his square jaw tightened and anger infused his cheeks with color. "Not true. I'm simply being realistic, instead of putting my trust in moonbeams and fairy dust."
I inhaled sharply at the jab.
"I have sacrificed to make sure my son has a better life than I do, and he has done his part by working hard and building his savings. He has a career path and goals, and I want to make sure he continues making smart decisions."
"Marrying my daughter isn't making a smart decision?"
"That's not what I—"
"I'm sure he worked very hard to get a job at the same bank where his father works. Too bad I don't have any strings I can pull to ensure my daughter gets a job right out of college." My comment was bitchy, but he asked for it.
Blossom gasped. "Mom!"
"Dad, enough!"
I leaned forward, holding Jamison's gray gaze and lowering my voice to avoid yelling and embarrassing us all in this fine establishment. "Stop measuring their relationship based on dollars and cents. What actually matters in a marriage is not how it looks on paper."
"What matters," Jamison said, his voice dangerously calm as he also leaned forward, "is whether they can build a life together in the real world. Not a fantasy world fueled by positive energy and going with the flow."
The second jab landed.
"So if the benefits can't be quantified on a profit and loss statement, they're no good?"
He sighed, shaking his head as if speaking to a difficult toddler. "You have to be realistic, Ms. Washington. We, all four of us, need to be smart about what these two young people are getting themselves into. Rushing into marriage because it feels good is a recipe for disaster."
I sat back, arms folded over my chest. Unbelievable.
I had my concerns about Blossom and Manuel rushing into marriage, but Jamison's beliefs were way off.
He was concerned about money. I wanted to ensure their energies were aligned so they wouldn't be making a mistake.
As long as they loved each other and were properly aligned, everything should work out.
"Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith and believe in the connection you have."
"A leap of faith ends in disaster without a solid financial foundation. This is a statistical fact. I'm not making this up. Financial incompatibility is a problem and shouldn't be ignored in favor of romance and butterflies in your stomach."
"Is that what happened to you?" I asked.
His expression shuttered. "Our conversation is about Blossom and Manuel."
"I don't know, sounds like you're projecting the mistakes from your failed marriage onto our children."
He chuckled, and despite knowing it wasn't a real laugh, I couldn't help but notice how much more handsome he looked when the scowl on his face was replaced by a smile.
And why did my heart make an odd little leap, as if an electrical spark had shot through the muscle?
As if I enjoyed the sound of his amusement?
"You've got some nerve accusing me of projecting when it's obvious you're projecting. You're determined to prove none of the practical aspects of a relationship matter because... let me guess... you had all the practical matters attended to when you married, but the chakra was off. Am I right?"
"Not once did I use the word chakra, you ass."
He flung his hands in the air. "Oh, now I'm an ass. You want to see an ass? Check the mirror, lady."
I shot to my feet, my chair scraping the floor. "I'm so glad we had the opportunity to meet. My daughter deserves better than to marry into a family that considers her a financial risk."
He muttered a curse under his breath, but I heard the f-bomb loud and clear. I'm not entirely certain he didn't want me to hear it.
"No one said—"
"You didn't have to." I snatched up my purse. "My daughter is smart, capable, funny, charming, loving, and on her way to great things. Her lack of current employment doesn't make her unworthy of your son."
"I never said she was unworthy." Jamison's eyes flashed as he looked up at me.
"You implied it with your fifty-fifty comment and your concerns about Manuel's savings account." I turned to my daughter. "Blossom, we're leaving. Let's go."
Her eyes widened with mortification. "Mom, I can't—"
"Let's. Go."
Right then, the server returned with Jamison's wine.
"Thank you." He took the glass before the server could place it on the table and gulped a mouthful as if it were hard liquor.
"Ma'am, is there something I can help you with?" the server asked, looking confused because I was standing at the table.
"I'm fine, but I'll be leaving shortly. Could you give us a moment, please?"
"Of course." He backed away and went to tend to one of his other tables.
Manuel stood abruptly. "Ms. Washington—"
I lifted my hand. "It was very nice to meet you, Manuel." I swung my gaze to his father. "You, not so much."
Jamison narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it immediately. He then started eating his steak.
Asshole.
"Blossom. Let's. Go."
My daughter stood slowly, head bent.
Manuel briefly grabbed her wrist. "I'll call you," he said.
She nodded and meekly followed me out of the restaurant.