I crossed my arms. “And why would I work for somebody who doesn’t even like me?”
“Whether I like you or not ain’t got nothing to do with it,” he stated. “Choose.”
“It has everything to do with it,” I said, leaning forward now. “You’re doing entirely too much, Marlon. You do not control me and you can’t boss me around.”
His gaze didn’t shift or soften.
“If I had control over you,” he said, voice low, controlled, “you wouldn’t be talking this much.”
That made me pause for a second, I recovered quickly, rolling my eyes. “Please. You’re not scary.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
I scoffed, but it came out weaker than I meant it to. “And what exactly do you think I’m gonna do in Napa? Fold your laundry? Pick grapes?”
“Work,” he said simply.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you getting. And I’m done arguing with you about this. The next words out of your mouth should be yes. Or no.”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue again, but he was already… waiting.
I looked at my dad and it was obvious he wasn’t stepping in. Not this time.
My fingers tightened against the edge of the table.
“…fine.” I said finally, quieter now. I looked down, pressing my lips together. “… yes.”
It came out under my breath, but it still was heard.
Marlon stood immediately, as if that was all he needed. He slipped on his jacket, already done with the conversation. “Flight’s at two. Don’t be late.”
I shot him a look that could curdle milk, but he didn’t flinch. He left the table without another word.
“Ugh!” I slammed my hand on the table once he was out of ear shot. “I can’t stand him!”
Dad just looked tired. “Go pack your things, sweetheart.”
“Fine!” I snapped, wiping my face. “But when I die of exhaustion on some stupid fucking vineyard, I hope you feel really bad!”
And with that, I stomped off and started crying again dramatically.
Always dramatically.
My dad called out after me.
“I love you too!”
WELCOME TO NAPA
Marlon.
She criedthe entire fucking way to the airport.
And when sherealized we were flying commercial, she cried some more.
Loudly.
