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My hands instantly go to my nose, horrified at this revelation. “No, it doesn’t!”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees. “I just said that to prove you aren’t bring truthful. So, tell me, Miss Hill,” he purrs my name, “why do you wear these hideous glasses?”
“I like them,” I hiss.
“Liar,” he taunts softly, but there’s nothing malicious in his tone.
“Fine. Give them back to me, and I’ll tell you.” I try to negotiate, feeling my throat turn dry at the way he’s regarding me.
He hands them over. With shaking hands, I put them back on.
Oliver waits patiently. My fingers move restlessly over the tablecloth until I finally blurt out, “They make me look older.”
He blinks. “Come again.”
I frown, deliberately not meeting his gaze. “The glasses make people take me seriously.”
He scoffs, but then pauses when he realizes I’m not joking. His brows crease. “That’s ridiculous.”
I feel the sting of his words, but I brush over them. “It’s easy to assume something about someone without knowing them, Mr. Thornton.”
Oliver’s mouth tightens. “I meant you have proven yourself over the last five years to the people who work here. I doubt they would care what you look like with or without your glasses.”
I choose not to say anything, simmering in my self-righteous fury that it’s so easy for him to dismiss something I have spent years suffering through just because he thinks I’m wrong.
* * *
That night when I go home and hang up my clothes, I catch a glimpse of myself in the dressing table mirror.
I’m still wearing my glasses.
I stare at myself, then slowly take them off, holding my breath.
The person underneath is the same, but, without them, there is a softness in my eyes, a vulnerability people have tried to use over the years.
The sound of the phone ringing distracts me, and I pick up my cell phone after checking the caller ID.
“Hi, Dad.”
Needing the barrier that has become an imaginary wall around me, I put the glasses back on. “How are you?”
“You didn’t come to Glen’s boy’s birthday.” My father sounds disapproving, and I let out a sigh.
“Dad, you know I can’t get a day off work. My company is changing owners. My boss needs me here.”
A disbelieving snort. “Does he? He’s a man. He can run a company by himself.” I can nearly see the disappointment on his face as he says, “You’re going into your thirties. You need to settle down with a good man and give me grandbabies instead of running yourself ragged over some pointless crusade.”
A hiss of anger escapes me even as I try to temper my tongue, not wanting to say anything to hurt him. “This job is important to me, Dad. I don’t want to settle down yet. Besides…” My tone is acidic at this point. “Don’t you have three other sons you should be thinking about? They’re in their forties.”
“Lana.” Obviously, my dad isn’t pleased with my back talk.
I glance at the wall clock. “Dad, I gotta go.”
Hesitance, and then, “You’ll come see me this weekend, though, right?”
His voice wavers. I close my eyes, my voice softening. “Of course I will.”
As I close the phone, my heart feels tight. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, sadly saying, “If you see past the woman, maybe one day you’ll see I’ve actually made something of myself, Dad.”
