Chapter Six #2
“You’re my daughter. Your choices affect the family.”
“My therapy belongs to me. What happened to me belongs to me too.”
Domenico studied her. “And this counseling idea?”
“I intend to pursue clinical mental health counseling.”
“You had work beside me.”
“I loved being beside you. I still want work I choose.”
His gaze shifted to me. “And this is the alternative?”
“Jonah isn’t an alternative to you.”
“You’re standing in a Colorado field with a man you met one week ago, telling me you’re abandoning your home and career.”
“I’m not abandoning my family. I’m refusing your terms.”
“You don’t have money that isn’t connected to me. You haven’t applied to graduate school. You have no job here.”
“You’re right.”
Domenico blinked.
“I haven’t built the life yet,” she said. “I’ll open my own accounts, apply to programs, continue therapy, and find work you can’t take away when you’re angry.”
“You think announcing a plan makes it real?”
“No. Doing it will.”
Talia took his hand. “I love you. I know you protected me, and I know how much you gave me.”
“Then come home.”
“I won’t end therapy.”
His fingers closed around hers.
“I won’t give up counseling because it embarrasses you,” she continued. “I won’t let you control my accounts, my privacy, where I live, or who I build a life with.”
Domenico’s gaze cut toward me.
“I’m still your daughter,” Talia said.
“You’re choosing him.”
“I’m choosing the life I want. Jonah is part of it.”
Domenico released her and faced me. “What exactly have you promised her?”
“Nothing.”
Talia turned toward me, and I wished I could take the word back.
“You’re staying for a man who has promised you nothing,” Domenico said.
“I didn’t say I was staying for nothing.”
“What do you want from her?”
“The truth.”
“And now she trusts you because you make her defend herself.”
“No,” Talia said. “I trust him because he lets me.”
Talia stepped beside me, not behind me.
“Jonah was furious with me yesterday,” she said. “He still fed me, gave me a bed, and brought me here safely. He didn’t freeze my money or decide I wasn’t allowed to leave.”
“That is a low standard for devotion.”
“It’s respect.”
Domenico faced me again. “You’re comfortable letting her throw away her life because you get to keep her.”
“She hasn’t applied to school, opened independent accounts, or found work yet.”
“Then we agree.”
“No. You think those questions give you the right to answer for her.”
“What happens when she makes the wrong choice?”
“She deals with it. I’ll help if she asks, but I won’t erase the choice before she gets to make it.”
Talia’s fingers brushed mine.
I turned my palm and held her hand.
Domenico watched us. “You’ve known him six days.”
“Not quite seven,” Talia replied.
“That isn’t the correction you think it is.”
“I know it’s fast.”
“It’s reckless.”
“It might be. It’s still mine.”
His free hand rose, then fell. “Come home. Keep the apartment. Return to the office. We’ll put the money in a separate account.”
“An account you control?”
“One protected by the family.”
“The world being dangerous doesn’t mean you get every decision.”
Domenico looked down at the dusty toe of his polished shoe.
Talia stepped closer. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Then don’t.”
“You’re the one saying I lose you if I don’t obey.”
He swallowed.
“You were never supposed to need a stranger more than your family,” he said.
“I don’t. I need you to let me be your daughter without running my life.”
“And you choose that cabin.”
“I choose the life Jonah and I might build there.”
“We’ve known each other a week,” I said. “We know it’ll be difficult.”
Talia squeezed my hand.
The driver opened the rear door of the SUV and waited.
Domenico ignored him. “Your cards can still be restored. Your position remains available. The car will wait.”
“My answer won’t change.”
“You say that now.”
“I’m saying it while the car is here.”
His shoulders lowered.
He touched the side of her face, and Talia leaned into his palm.
“I love you, Princess.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
“I don’t approve of this.”
“I know.”
“I don’t approve of him.”
“You don’t know him.”
“That hasn’t stopped you.”
Talia laughed through the tears in her eyes.
Domenico brushed his thumb beneath one of them. “You call me.”
“I will.”
“You answer when I call.”
“I’ll answer when I’m able.”
He frowned. “That isn’t the same promise.”
“It’s the one I can make.”
He kissed her forehead, then faced me. “If she asks for help, you call.”
“She can call you herself.”
His eyes narrowed. Talia covered a laugh with her hand.
The corner of Domenico’s mouth shifted. “Good luck, Mr. Bricker.”
“I’ll need it.”
He entered the SUV.
Talia stood beside me while both vehicles crossed the field and turned toward the road.
The first SUV slowed at the entrance. Its rear window lowered, and Domenico lifted one hand.
Talia raised hers.
The window closed. The vehicles disappeared into traffic.
She kept watching the road until the dust settled.
Then she released my hand.
“You said nothing.”
“I said several things.”
“You said nothing to me.”
“I didn’t want to influence your decision.”
Talia faced me. “You influenced it by standing there.”
“I couldn’t leave you alone with him.”
“I know, and I’m grateful. But you were still going to let me refuse Daddy, stay in Colorado, and wonder whether you wanted me here.”
“I thought asking before you chose would turn it into pressure.”
“It sounds noble and feels terrible.”
I rubbed the back of my neck.
The radio at my hip crackled.
“Bricker, confirm the far marker.”
I lifted it. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Talia folded her arms. “You have work.”
“I have ten minutes.”
“That’s a very specific emotional window.”
“It’s what I have.”
People had begun filling the open grass with folding chairs and blankets. Children carried paper flags, and the smell of fried dough mixed with smoke from the grills.
I stepped in front of her.
“I wanted you to refuse the car.”
Her arms loosened.
“I wanted you at the cabin when I came home. But yesterday you told me I’d managed what you knew, and I was afraid asking you to stay would make me another man deciding for you.”
“You offering me a future wouldn’t have erased my ability to think.”
“I understand that now.”
Talia’s mouth softened, but she didn’t let me escape.
“What do you want, Jonah?”
The red dress stirred around her thighs. Diamonds caught the late-morning sun, and dust marked one brown boot. She didn’t fit the quiet life I’d built.
I wanted her there anyway.
“I want a partner,” I said. “Open your own accounts. Apply to school. Keep seeing your therapist. Fight with your father without turning either of us into the prize. I want to build a life with you.”
Her eyes filled again.
“Stay.”
Talia stared at me.
The radio crackled once more, but I left it clipped to my belt.
“I’m staying,” she said.
“Because you want the life?”
“Because I want you, the life, the difficult parts, and the right to complain about your internet situation until we improve it.”
“I’m not asking you to give up your family or move into my cabin as a woman I’m rescuing.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to graduate school.”
“I may become unbearable when I’m studying.”
“You diagnosed both of us in the first twelve hours.”
“That wasn’t a diagnosis.”
“What was it?”
“An informal assessment.”
I caught her around the waist and kissed her.
Her arms came around my neck. She pressed against me, red dress and diamonds and all, while I held her as tightly as I’d wanted to since the SUV arrived.
The radio crackled near my hip.
“Test launch in thirty seconds.”
I pulled back. “There’s going to be a test.”
A sharp boom sounded from the launch area.
Talia jumped against me. “Thirty seconds was still inconsiderate.”
I laughed and kissed her once more before heading toward the far marker.
By twilight, families covered the grass between the food stands and the public markers.
Talia and I ate grilled sausages from paper trays.
She pointed toward the funnel-cake stand. “We’re sharing one. Ordering two would show a lack of emotional discipline.”
“I didn’t know funnel cake required discipline.”
“Powdered sugar is where civilization begins to fail.”
It landed on the neckline of her dress anyway.
I brushed it away with my thumb.
Her eyes darkened. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“There was sugar.”
“There was cleavage.”
“Both things can be true.”
She smiled.
Mabel passed with a paper fan tucked into the front pocket of her overalls.
“You two fixed breakfast,” she said.
“We completed an extended conflict-resolution process,” Talia replied.
“You kissed in the middle of the field.”
“It was part of the process.”
Mabel looked at me. “Did you understand any of it?”
“Enough.”
“That’s a miracle.”
She continued toward the water table.
The sky deepened from blue to violet.
I checked the perimeter again, then returned to the public side before the display began.
Talia stood near the edge of the crowd with her face lifted toward the launch area.
“You should be farther back,” I said.
“I’m behind the line.”
“You’re close to it.”
“That’s still behind it.”
I moved half a step nearer.
She glanced at me. “Are you protecting me or supervising the grass?”
“Both.”
“That’s acceptable.”
The first firework climbed into the dark and opened above Promise Ridge in a burst of red light.
Talia’s hand found mine.
White and blue sparks followed while the crowd cheered. Light flashed across Talia’s face and caught in her diamonds.
She watched the sky. I watched her.
The display lasted less than twenty minutes. When the final burst faded, smoke drifted above the launch area and applause spread across the field.
I kissed Talia’s temple. “I have to work.”
“I know.”
“Stay outside the markers.”
“I remember the rule.”
“I’ll be back when the area is clear.”
“I’ll be here.”
I joined the fireworks crew beyond the line.
We walked the perimeter with flashlights and checked the dry grass, brush line, and cleared ground. One smoking scrap had landed within the open area. The crew soaked it before it did more than darken a patch of dirt.
The wind had settled. No sparks had reached the trees.