Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
He doesn’t mean anything cruel by that. He loves Ira and the rest of the Harrington staff, but he’s also never invited them to sit down to our family meal either. There’s a boundary there, to protect both sides, and in his eyes, I’m dancing all over that line, disrespecting myself and Riley by making it confusing for us all.
I get up and walk to the big window, looking out at the moon rising outside, needing the time to compose my thoughts into something Dad will understand. He’s a gruff, hard to know man, but despite his failings, he loves his family deeply, and we’ve had a lot over the last few years—questionable business deals, kidnappings, family blow-ups, and more—so my falling in love with the ‘help’ shouldn’t even rank in the top ten, but with Dad, you never know.
Finally, I turn and look at him evenly as I confess, “I love her.”
These are words I should tell Riley first, but I am my father’s son. I want to seek his council on something this huge and impactful. Not because I’ll listen to what he says, but because he’s the naysayer in my life, the one who will examine and re-examine every choice before committing to it. Unlike Mom, who’d likely cry happily, clap excitedly, and start talking about wedding plans. She’s the Ying to Dad’s Yang, and right now, I think I could use a bit of unrestrained, potentially ugly truth because I’m about to embark on an entirely unprecedented course of action in my and Grace’s lives.
“She’s your nanny, Cameron,” he spits out harshly, as if I’m unaware of the obvious power discrepancy in our relationship. But I’ve already had that argument with myself at least a hundred times. It didn’t work when I said it to myself, and it doesn’t hold any weight when Dad says it either.
“Yes,” I agree. “And she’s twenty-five, has pink hair, a boatload of trauma, zero family, and thinks leaving is a foregone conclusion because literally everyone in her life has abandoned her in one way or another, so she leaves first as a protective defense mechanism.”
Oh, I know exactly who Riley is. She’s bared her soul bluntly and unapologetically, with zero attempts at pretty packaging to disguise her many unfortunate ‘life lessons’.
“Goddammit,” Dad sighs, rubbing his chin and probably wishing for a scotch. Not me, not any longer.
And I’m not done. “She makes me feel alive. For the first time in nine years, she makes me smile, laugh, and feel…” I trail off, trying to define this sensation in my heart before just saying, “She makes me feel.”
Dad studies me like one of his deals, and though nothing in his expression changes, I know he has some inkling of what that means to me. I think he even wants that for me, though not with a young employee. He’d likely prefer to see me with a thirty-something woman who holds an MBA and professional goals of her own as a priority, someone who could accompany me to charity galas and ease the way with other corporate bigshots. Someone like Mom.
And while I love my mother dearly, never have I seen myself married to her or anyone like her.
Yes, you did.
Though uncomfortable, it’s true. Michelle was largely like Mom—smart, chic, friendly, and ambitious. And maybe unconsciously, I did seek out someone to help me recreate my parents’ professionally and personally successful relationship, only needing the Mom role filled since I’m undeniably like Dad. But Michelle is gone, and though I’ve dated women who would check all those criteria in the years since, they didn’t bring me to life the way Riley does.
Nor did they treat Grace like anything other than an accessory to my life, when she is and will always be the center of my universe.
“And she loves Grace,” I declare. “She’s so good with her. She’s taught her to sew and cook and see the world in a different way. And she talks her through friendships and boys and life, things I would never know to tell her. Riley just… does.” I wave my hand, almost flicking it like casting a spell, because that’s flat-out what Riley has done to me and my daughter.
“Cameron.” Dad says my name, nothing more, but I can hear his argument, his advice, his insight on the whole situation coming.
But I realize that I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I already know what I’m doing, and nothing he could say will change my mind. So I hold my hand up, cutting him off. “I love her.” He narrows his eyes, not liking being interrupted, but I don’t care. We’re peer enough that I’ve felt comfortable standing up to him for a while, and I do it again now. “If you’re about to say anything other than congratulations, you can keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear anything else because I love her. I know it’s not ideal, and it’s complicated as hell, and I’m going to have a talk with Grace, of course, but I love Riley.”