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“You would choose her over your own family?” he asks bitterly.
“I choose the chance of something with her, over the certainty of losing her.” Because the fact is, Ihavebeen miserable these last few weeks without her. “Even if that means I lose this job.”
“What about losing your family?”
I stand for a minute, decisions swirling around me like autumn leaves. I have to choose, and not try to push and negotiate until I have half measures of everything. But the future is clearer than it ever has been before. I wouldneverhave been happy taking over Foster & Co. because I would have been living someone else’s dream.
Like my grandfather, I love to build and create. I love to teach and mentor and to help other people find their passion. If I sign this agreement and become CEO, I would be nothing but a hood ornament, still crushed by the weight of my father’s thumb.
By choosing Presley, I’m also choosing to forge my own path.
“I’ll keep trying, Dad. I won’t stay away this time, because I really regret doing that before. Iwanta relationship with you, because I remember how good it used to be. I remember what we had. But I won’t do it like this. Not with contracts and power plays and us treating one another like the enemy. That’s not the kind of relationship I want.”
I turn and walk out of his office, feeling lighter and freer than ever. I’m taking a huge risk, not knowing what my father will do next—will he give the company to Mike? Dismantle it himself? Hire someone totally new who doesn’t care about the history?
These are not my concerns anymore. The only thing I care about right now is how fast I can get to the airport.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Presley
“YOUAREGOINGto havesomuch fun.” Drew squeezes me so tight I’m worried the pressure will cause my eyeballs to shoot out of my head. But I’m glad she’s here to see me off. “Now, make sure you try that little pastry place I told you about. Text me every day with pictures. And don’t accept those woven bracelet things—”
“Drew.” I wriggle out of her grip. “I know I’m not as well-travelled as you, but Ihavebeen overseas before.”
“New Zealand, Pres. I’m not sure that counts.”
“I can handle Paris,” I assure her. “The biggest risk is me not fitting into my jeans when I get back because I’ve lived exclusively on buttered carbs for two weeks.”
Flynn stands stoically to one side, but his lip twitches. I’ve gotten to know him better in the past three weeks and I’ve come to appreciate that his humour is there—it’s just buried beneath layers of seriousness.Manylayers. But he makes Drew happy and he’s been kind to me, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s one of us.
And I try not to feel a pang at the way they look at one another. Because it looks so much like how Sebastian looked at me.
“Please text her every day, or she’ll drive me crazy,” he quips, that dry sense of humour making Drew shake her head through a smile. “Have a great trip.”
“I will. I’ll tell theMona Lisayou said hi.” I wave and pick up my carry-on bag, heading toward the section that will lead me through security.
The second I’m out of their sight, my energy deflates like a balloon. I’m excited about this trip, of course. Paris has been on my bucket list since I was a teenager obsessed withMoulin Rouge. Only I’ve stunted my opportunity for international travel by being too sensible and saving every penny I could for my misguided white-picket-fence dreams. But now that phase is over, and I’m putting me first. Putting my dreams first.
Yet no matter how many times I say those things over and over in my head, there’s an underlying hollowness. If I rap my knuckles against those thoughts, I’ll hear the big gaping hole they hide.
A big gaping Sebastian-shaped hole.
How many relationship disasters will it take for me to learn my lesson? Even him, a man who seemed good to his core, a man with whom I shared a chemistry so burning and bright my eyes have been opened to what attractionreallylooks like. To the kind of woman I can be when I’m desired and supported and...loved.
He doesn’t love you. Hell, he doesn’t even know you that well. This isn’t some bloody fairy tale.
But I did feel loved. Maybe not in the lifelong-commitment, put-a-ring-on-it sense. But I felt accepted, wanted, respected. And what are those things if not love?
“Miss?” The airport security guard waves at me and I realise I’ve been holding up the line. I place my bag and my scarf into a tub. “Passport and boarding pass.”
I hand them over, numb. What will happen by the time I return? Will Sebastian have moved on, taken the helm at Foster & Co.? Found another woman to cherish?
My stomach knots and, for a minute, I have a very real concern that I’m going to puke all over the security conveyor belt.
“Any liquids, miss?” The security guard looks at me with shrewd eyes. She’s an older woman, dressed in her imposing uniform with her hair neatly scraped back. “Laptops or other large electronic devices?”
I shake my head. I’m not working this holiday and everything else is packed away in the bag I checked a few minutes ago. She waves me through and I head toward the scanning gate. On the other side I join the people milling about, waiting for their items, shuffling down as each little container is spit out by the scanner.
