“I do like shopping. Shoes, in particular. But I’m saving most of it for when I don’t have a dream job. I may need that money to make ends meet one day.”
Her grey eyes widen suddenly. “Oh! A gazebo!” She skips up to the old forgotten rotunda on the edge of our property. “It’s completely charming. I love it!” She spins around in the center of the structure then strolls to the opening and leans against the pillar.
I follow and pause at the bottom stair, my hands in my pockets, and cock my head up at her. “You don’t like working at Accelecom?”
“I love working at Accelecom! It’s exactly the kind of position I went to university for.” She rubs the goose bumps off her arms. “But I don’t love that it’s my father’s company. If he’d let me build more of it, that might be different, and I still hold out hope that he’ll eventually change his mind. But if he doesn’t, I’m prepared to go someplace where I can.”
Realizing she’s cold, I take off my jacket and walk over to give it to her. She’s so interesting, I decide, as I wrap it around her shoulders. We’re alike and so different. We’ve both been born into a dynasty of sorts, and she’s turned down every handout while I’ve accepted—and expected—every privilege I’ve been given. Both of our families are leery about our careers but for very different reasons. She’s worked her ass off to become something in her chosen field, proving that she deserves to be where she is even against her father’s wishes.
And me? I’ve just coasted.
God, I’m kind of pathetic next to her. Scratch that—really pathetic.
“That’s important to you, isn’t it?” I ask as I pull the front of my jacket closed around her. “Making it on your own.”
“It is. Extremely important.” She tilts her head up to look at me. “Next you’re going to ask why.”
“I am now.” I step back to lean against the post opposite her.
“I don’t know. Probably a lot of it is that’s just how I was made. But it’s also probably my mother’s fault.”
I wait, sure she’ll say more if I do.
And she does. “My parents got divorced when I was twelve,” she explains as she kicks off one of her heels. “Before that, my mother was the best wife you could imagine. Devoted. Subservient. Put everyone else above herself.” She points a foot out in front of her and circles it in the air, stretching as she talks. “My father so adored her. Doted on her like she was the queen.
“Then, one day, out of the blue, she up and left. Took off with another man and moved to Lisbon.”
Huh. Hadn’t been expecting that. “She left without warning?”
“No warning at all. We never saw it coming.” She’s quiet then, her brows furrowed.
I search for the right words to say—sympathetic and supportive—but just as I’m about to speak, she says, “Actually, that’s not exactly true.”
“Oh?” I sit down on the step and peer up at her, letting her know she has my full attention.
“There were subtle warnings, I think. Things I caught later.” She kicks off her remaining shoe and looks down, as though studying her toes. “Like, once I’d overheard her tell my father that she didn’t know who she was without him. Not in a romantic way but in a hopeless way. As though she didn’t have any identity that wasn’t tied to being his wife and our mother.”
She tugs my jacket tighter around herself and meets my eyes. “I have no idea whether she was planning to leave him at that point or if the thought had yet to cross her mind. But even without knowing what was to come, I decided I didn’t want to be like that. I didn’t want to be a woman without a sense of self. I didn’t want to rely on a man—or anyone, for that matter—to fill in the spaces of my existence. I didn’t want to ever feel as lost as my mother sounded.”
Her admission is so stark and bare and honest, and I understand. But what hits me is how vulnerable she is before me. Naked in a way I’ve never seen her.
It leaves me speechless. I want to be speechless. I don’t want to break this spell, don’t want to ruin this moment of intimacy.
After a moment, she looks away. I watch her throat as she swallows. Then she says, “My father was devastated when she left. I was pretty shook up too, of course. But a part of me also felt a smidgeon of happiness. For her. I really believed she was out to find herself.”
She turns back toward me. “Then she went and got into the same boat. Married a guy who completely eclipses her. Had new babies that consume her entirely. Hagan and I only ever have contact with her at birthdays and Christmas now—at most.”
So that was what she was hinting at when she’d talked about children missing the love of their mothers.
“My father, on the other hand, married a woman who isn’t anything like his first wife. She’s strong-headed, refined, independent. Runs her own business.”
This surprises me. “Your stepmother?”
“Strange, right? Knowing my father.” With her back against the pillar, she slides down so she’s sitting on the step across from me. “But they’re the happiest couple I know. Madly in love. Quite perfect together.”
“Wow.” I ignore the urge to wonder if she thinks we might be a happy couple together too and focus on what she’s said. “And he’s cool with her being self-reliant?”
She brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. “He is. He’s extremely supportive of her work. Which is why I have to believe he’ll one day come around about me. Honestly, I think he just wants us to be happy. He can see his wife is happy doing what she does. Hopefully one day he’ll realize I am too.”