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“Perhaps,” I answered, wondering where he was going with his overly romantic sentiment. “Though I never really saw it that way.”
“You never saw it that way because you weren’t raised to feel that way, son,” he said as he poured me a glass.
“Fair enough,” I smiled, taking the glass from him. “I never believed I was lacking anywhere in my life, especially when it came to love.”
My father’s eyes refrained from rolling back, but they crinkled in humor instead.
“I’ve always admired your bold and daring spirit. Did you know that?”
For as long as I’d been alive, my father never went about conversations this way. In fact, he removed himself from the conversation when it came to women and love, so I was in foreign territory with the man. His smile at the word love, or even complimenting me on anything at all, was unusual.
It was wise to know this wouldn’t be a light, friendly conversation where we discussed what I wanted in life. Instead, it was the age-old manipulation tactic of making me believe my father cared about what I wanted so he could insist upon what he wanted.
“That’s interesting,” I said, feeling the warmth of the cognac spread through my chest. “You’ve never acted as though you admired anything about me?”
“Ah,” his eyes widened. “And he doesn’t play games?”
“I wasn’t raised to play games, although you and mom think that’s all I do.”
“You brought a girl from California to an important family occasion without our expressed consent, inviting someone without our knowledge to the most high-profile function we’ve hosted in years without any of the necessary background checks being done or non-disclosure agreements being signed. I certainly think that is a game.”
Here was the man I knew so well.
“I’ve insulted you?”
“Not me,” he answered. “But I’m sure the dignitaries from across the globe who didn’t get invitations might feel slighted because our unruly son has decided he can bring whomever he damn well pleases.”
“That’s not why she’s here,” I insisted.
“You don’t have to tell me that, John,” he answered coldly. “I know exactly why that girl is here. She’s here so you can prove another childish point to your mother and me, trying to let us know that we can no longer stand in your life and make requests?”
He was right, but I thought I’d established that years ago.
“She’s here because she’s a big part of my life. I don’t ask that you accept her; hell, you still haven’t accepted my profession and life in Los Angeles. However, she’s here for me and not for any of you.”
“Selfish boy,” he scolded as if I were nine. “I do not understand your methods. It’s beyond my comprehension.”
“Even for the man who nearly runs the world,” I taunted.
“You’ll hold your tongue. I will not sit here and be insulted.”
Even though my mom ran the show, she was easier to talk to about things of this nature.
“I’m not trying to insult the family, and most certainly not you,” I said. “If you want to talk about insults, I’m the one in the family on the receiving end of them.”
His eyes squinted through his cigar smoke as he puffed. His brown eyes became darker, black, and unwavering. How in the fuck could I be almost forty years old and still feel like I was a child every time I sat under this man’s gaze. He wasn’t hateful. He was stern, set in his ways, and extremely protective of his family. But it sucked because all it proved was that he didn’t trust any of us to make our own decisions. All any kid wants is for their parents to be proud of them, but short of doing exactly what they wanted, I’d never experience that.
“That’s because you chose to be rebellious. You know how this family expects things to be. You bear the name of my great-grandfather, and yet, your actions, your utter lack of interest in this family, would shame him.”
“If I didn’t take interest, I wouldn’t be here for my brother,” I insisted, knowing nothing I said would get me anywhere.
My parents didn’t care what made me happy, and I knew it. So, what was I doing, thinking they were going to give two fucks about the woman I loved?
“What’s done is done,” he said. “We are your family, and we come first. We are not some simpletons who play games with their children, allowing them to roam through life aimlessly. We know what is best for our children, and we will not waste time allowing any of you to make mistakes you’ll regret.”
“I won’t regret this woman. I know that.”
“You say that now,” he smirked and waved his hand to dismiss me. “I look forward to meeting the young woman who seems to have stolen my son’s heart from where it belongs.”
