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Scarlet
Everythingmy parents do for me comes with conditions.
Pay for college; I have to study what they want me to.
Buy me a car; it has to be one they choose.
Purchase tickets to the Valentine’s gala I’m hosting; my mother has to see my plans and give her input before she hands over a check.
Oh, and they have to attend.
Which instantly makes me regret even mentioning the event to them. It also makes me want to strangle Cleo for forcing me to take her place.
Well, to a point.
If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have reconnected with Colt.
And I will never regret that. Especially since the afternoon I spent wrapped in his arms.
It feels like a lifetime ago at this point, even though it’s only been nine days.
Yes, nine. My parents refused to let me leave. My mother scheduled lunch dates for us this week. My father has me touring his new office space this afternoon. And they still haven’t given me my Christmas present, something they’re holding over my head so they can keep me here.
Which makes me wonder if it’s even something I’m going to want.
“Are you almost ready, dear?” my mother calls from the other side of my closed bedroom door.
It’s just after ten in the morning. I’ve been up for two hours, texting back and forth with Colt, but I haven’t managed to drag myself out of bed. Being home is mentally exhausting. I’ve felt drained since the moment I walked through the door.
“It’s about time,”my father says without looking up from his paper.
I didn’t expect him to be home this morning. In fact, I was hoping they would both be gone, and I’d have a little time to myself before being graced with their presence. After being on vacation for over a week, my father normally spends his first day back at the office. Even if it is a Sunday.
No such luck this time.
He must be hungover from the party last night, not that you can tell there were over a hundred people in our penthouse less than twelve hours ago. The cleaners have already come and gone, leaving the entire place spotless. The only indication there was even a party is the leftover bottles of unopened champagne and wine sitting on the island, waiting to be taken to the cellar my parents had installed.
“I left as soon as I woke up this morning,” I state, dropping my purse on the counter. After pouring myself a cup of coffee, I take the seat across from him at the table and wait for the lecture I know is coming. Might as well get it out of the way.
“You missed a great party last night.”
“I’m sure it was amazing. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it here in time.”
“You made a choice not to be here, Scarlet Renee. Stop making excuses.”
Right. I chose to slip on the steps and twist my ankle. I chose to fall out of the bathtub and re-injure myself.
Poor choices.
The only kind I make in my father’s eyes.
I could lift the leg of my skinny jeans and show him the bandage Colt helped me wrap around my ankle last night, but he’d probably call me dramatic. I could even take it off and show him the slight bruising I have around it. Or I could keep my mouth shut, nod in acceptance, take two aspirin—because my entire foot is throbbing after driving four hours to get home—and go to my room.
Option B is the best plan of action. There is really no use arguing with my father. In his eyes, he’s never wrong.
“Again, I apologize for my absence.” Standing, I snag my purse off the counter and excuse myself to get settled in. I should have known the conversation was far from over, but I was hoping, just this once, that he might let things go.
“Your mother is getting ready for brunch with a few of the ladies from the club. You can join her, apologize to them yourself for missing the event.”
