Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ariana
I was a good girl last night, just ask Boston Black.
After I finished my fourth martini, I felt myself gravitating toward him more than usual, and when I saw that heavy, drunken look in his eyes, I excused myself and went to bed.
I know. Me! Can you believe it? Give me a medal, because being drunk near Boston Black somehow makes me desperate to know if his kisses taste like that bubblegum he’s always chewing.
I don’t think I could ever actually cross that line.
Pretending I would is the fun part. Boston is everything I don’t date.
He’s handsome, successful, and he is a good, kind man.
He’d treat a woman right. I can just tell in the way that you can with some men, you know?
He’s good. He’s husband material. That isn’t the type of man I entertain.
He’s too good. Too perfect. He’s someone you’d fall for.
I’m leaving the little coffee shop near my brother’s place when my phone rings. I dig it out of my purse, resting the box of donuts on my hip as I struggle with the mess in my bag. My hair is in my face and I’m blocking the doorway, so I answer it without looking at the name.
I should have checked who was calling.
“Hello?”
“Hi, baby girl.”
I freeze, jolting upward. I almost drop my brown-sugar iced coffee, which cost me nearly ten bucks.
“Dad.”
“How are you?” he asks, his voice soft and calm like usual. A bit patronizing, as if he thinks I’m about to shave my head in front of ten cameras and he’s worried his friends will see it and judge him for it. “How has the visit with your brother been?”
“I’m good. Carter’s good.” I start my walk back to Carter’s condo, but I’m barely paying attention to anything but his tone, trying to decipher if he sounds angry with me.
“Are you ready to talk to me about what happened yet? I’ve been worried.”
I wince, sipping my coffee, wanting to die.
I ran from this conversation. I ran to another state.
The second I saw that blatant disappointment on him, the way he had to force himself not to say how he truly felt, I decided I never wanted to discuss this with him again.
I don’t want to talk to him about work. Ever.
Whether it’s going well or it’s going up in flames.
Apparently, waiting for him to forget about it isn’t in the cards.
“Dad.”
“It’s not like you to abandon your work, Ariana,” he says. “I was surprised. You worked your ass off to get where you are. You were thrilled. Then, all of a sudden, you tell me you’ve been fired.”
Abandon my work? How can he say that, and that I’ve been fired in the same sentence? That is literally a contradiction. I was forced from my work. I didn’t have a choice. Abandoning insinuates that I left out of nowhere, irresponsibly.
“It wasn’t my choice,” I say quietly.
“Well, evidently, sweetie,” he says with a long sigh. “That’s what being fired means.”
I swallow, my grip on my coffee tightening. My shoulders feel heavy. He pushes me down a bit further with each word. I don’t know if he even realizes that he does that sometimes.
“I think you’d feel the same about this no matter what I say.”
“That’s not true,” he counters. “I’m just concerned. You’ve always been a professional. Even when you were a little girl, you were practically the HR department in our household. You don’t behave in a way that results in your getting fired, Ariana. You never have.”
I storm across the crosswalk toward Carter’s building. My safe space. I just need to get there. I need to make it through that doorway, and then I’m free to feel whatever emotions are rumbling in my chest. Just a few more feet. Just one elevator ride.
I let my dad down. He’s disappointed in me.
The one thing I was always good at is something I’m clearly not excelling in.
What I thought was my purpose has been ripped from me because of who I am.
Because I’m a woman. Because I wasn’t tough enough.
I didn’t fight back enough. Because I signed that paper.
“I am a professional, and I’m your daughter, Dad.
If you want to have this conversation, try to act like you’re my father, and not that you had me just to train me to become the miniature version of you,” I bite out, my voice breaking.
“Sometimes, I don’t need a boss. I need my dad.
I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to whatever idea you had of me. ”
“Ariana.”
I hang up.
Walking through the doors of Carter’s building, I smile tightly at the doorman, grateful that my sunglasses are hiding the tears in my eyes. I storm to the elevator, my grip lethal on these donuts, and suck in big, calming breaths while I wait.
I’m still trembling when I get to Carter’s floor, and when I push into the condo and he and Arden turn to greet me with big smiles, the box of donuts slips from my hands and crashes to the floor, sending pastries everywhere.
I let out a strangled sob, and then I’m crying. Full on, snotty crying.
Carter drops his fork and gets to his feet, rushing toward me. I don’t say a word, and he doesn’t ask a single question, he just sweeps me into his arms and crushes me to his chest. I cling to him, my coffee squished between us, unable to stop the tears from pouring now that they’ve started.
His hand sweeps down my hair, and I focus on the pain from my sunglasses digging into my nose rather than the pain that’s shooting through my heart and shattering my confidence.
Not once did my father ask what happened in a way that insinuated it may not have been my fault.
Everything he said confirmed what I’ve always known—if I’m not his protege, and if I’m not doing what he expects of me, he will never be truly happy with me.
It’s all he wants from me. It’s the only thing that matters.
The condo is quiet. The only sounds are my sniffles and whimpering breaths as I try to calm myself down. I know I screwed up. Does he have to rub it in so hard? Does he have to remind me that if I was a little tougher, a little kinder, a bit more driven—this wouldn't have happened?
I shouldn’t have signed that damn paper.
“Come and sit.”
I pull back, wiping my face. Arden straightens from beside us, where she had been collecting the fallen donuts and placing them back inside the box. She winces, shaking her head, telling me that none of them survived the drop.
I can’t do anything right.
My brother guides me into the kitchen and sits me down at the dining room table.
He fetches me a bottle of water and a box of cookies from the cupboard, like that will replace the delicious donuts I just tried to surprise them with for breakfast. I don’t touch the cookies, I just drain the rest of my iced coffee and choke on a post-cry hiccup.
Carter slowly takes the seat next to me. His blue eyes burn into my face for a couple of seconds before he reaches over and puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing in support.
“Dad called me.”
His brow furrows, but he nods for me to continue.
“Does he ever realize how he comes off?” I ask quietly, glancing at my brother.
Carter smiles sympathetically, squeezing my shoulder a bit tighter. “No, I don’t think he does. I think that’s always been his problem, and one of the biggest reasons he and Mom split when they did.”
“He doesn’t care about me, he just cares about what I’m doing.
How I look to his friends,” I explain, my voice still trembling.
“He called to ask what happened with my job, and then accused me of abandoning it. Made these weird, veiled comments about how the daughter he knows wouldn’t put herself in a position to be fired.
He never even asked if I’m okay, never wanted to hear me out to learn what actually happened. ”
Carter studies my face carefully. “That’s Dad, Ari. But he does care about you. He just shows it in a different way. I know it’s frustrating.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I sniffle, wiping my nose with my sleeve. “He’s proud of you. You’re his successful kid. You bring home the nicest girl. You have an amazing career. You did everything you set out to do without fault.”
Carter drops his hand from my body, cocking a brow.
“Oh, you think the assault charges I keep racking up make him proud? You think he wanted me to be a professional athlete? He’s proud of me because I don’t give him room for a different opinion, Ari.
I’m going to do what I want to do, and he can be proud or he can fuck off.
Mark my words, though, you’ve always been his shining star. He is proud of you.”
“Was.”
“Well,” he grumbles, leaning back to cross his arms in front of his chest. “He’s an idiot. He expects a lot from us. I feel like I refused to follow his guidelines, so all that pressure got shoved onto you. I don’t know if I realized I was doing that to you.”
I wipe my eyes, a fresh wave of emotion coming over me. “It’s not your fault.”
It’s our dad’s.
He leans forward, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“You know that I’m always proud of you, right?
I tell everyone about my little sister. How ambitious she is, how much drive she has, how she could easily run this country one day and make it a better place.
I don’t care if you got fired, or why, or if you chose to leave because you realized you just didn’t like it anymore—I’m your biggest fan, Ari. I am proud of you.”
My bottom lip wobbles. I shake my head, burying my face in my hands. Damn him.
I know I disappointed my dad. I know how let down he feels because I couldn’t make it work in my new position, but I was so scared that Carter was starting to look at me differently, too.
I saw that look in his eye the other night, the one so familiar to how our father looked at me when I told him I got fired.
It’s been in the back of my mind constantly since then.
I already let myself down, letting my family down feels even worse.
“Do you want me to call him?”
I shake my head between my hands. The only thing that could make this worse is Carter fighting my battles for me.
I already know he paid back my dad for the flight money to get here.
Arden told me. I’ve been making good money at the firm, but it was only a recent upgrade, and I put all my savings into the house I just bought in California, thinking I’d have a cushy paycheck to rely on. I have barely anything left for myself.
“What do you want to do?” he asks quietly.
“I don’t know,” I admit, dropping my eyes and wiping my face with my sleeve. “I want my job back, and I don’t want to feel like a colossal failure anymore. Can you make that happen?”
He smiles tightly. “No, but I’ve been to rock bottom once or twice, I can promise you that it isn’t somewhere you want to stay. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start thinking about a future that makes you happy. Not Dad. Not Mom. Not me. You.”
“Should I make a list or something?”
A crash explodes from the kitchen.
Carter shoots me a look just as Arden comes sprinting into the dining room, a notepad and pack of coloured pens in hand. She drops it in front of me, her eyes wild.
“You just said the magic words.” Carter chuckles, shaking his head.
Arden is already smoothing down a page in her notebook and is writing my name in the most beautiful handwriting I have ever seen. She starts shading and forming the lettering to look like something you’d buy from a small shop.
In a few seconds, I’m being handed a black pen, and
Ariana’s Action Plan
is staring up at me, begging to be created.