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I looked up, startled and ready to be pissed if it was Keenan again, but then smiled when I saw that it was my father. He looked great as ever in a charcoal-gray suit and emerald-green tie.
“Hi, Dad—I mean Mr. James. May I help you with something?”
“You should join me for dinner tonight,” he said.
“Is there a special occasion, sir?” I asked, wondering if I had forgotten something.
“Amy, do I need a special occasion to have dinner with my daughter?”
“Of course not!” I scoffed and then laughed.
“Then why are you questioning me about what should be a simple invitation?”
He tone had lowered an octave, and I felt the familiar feeling of being chastised. A feeling that only got stronger when I saw his lips turn down.
“I’m sorry, sir. Let me just finish this up, and I’ll be right out.”
“Don’t make me wait too long, Amy,” he said.
“I won’t, sir.”
I quickly went about finishing what I was working on.
I’d intended to stay longer, but I knew he wouldn’t be pleased if I kept him waiting, just as he wouldn’t have been pleased if I’d turned down his invitation.
Still, as I rushed through to complete my task, I was both nervous and more than a little excited.
My father rarely made time for me, especially one-on-one, so I looked forward to those occasions when we could catch up. But I also knew they could be…trying.
I’d come to accept that a lot of my father’s disappointment had nothing to do with me, was probably more his personality and the pain of his losses.
But it still stung.
I tried my absolute hardest, but despite that, I knew I could never be what he had wanted me to be.
A son, which would have been best, but if not that, someone more like my mother.
Beautiful, graceful, intelligent, charming.
Or so I had heard.
I logged out of my computer and grabbed my things, going down the hall to the elevators where my father was waiting.
I smiled at him. “I hope that wasn’t too long.”
“It was fine,” he said, looking distracted as he glanced at his watch.
I pushed the down button, and when the doors opened, he got on the elevator, and I followed him.
“Did you have a nice day?” I asked, as the elevator moved down.
“It was difficult, and I’d like a minute to unwind before you start hammering me with questions,” he said.
“Of course, sir,” I responded.
I went quiet, vowing not to speak again until he initiated conversation.
I knew that running James Industries was a challenge and took its toll, so I didn’t take his words personally.
