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His sharp intake of breath is his only acknowledgement of my touch. “Why not tonight? What’s going on?”
“I’ve got a million things I have to ensure get done for this gala. And my mother is stressed, so I need to deal with that.”
I grip his shirt while my heart and stomach and every other part of me do somersaults.
He saw my unhappiness in my eyes.
He’s kept up with my work.
He remembers the things I’ve told him.
I want Bradford to notice all my details, every day, and the fact he can’t, that I’m not the one who holds that place in his life, tears me apart.
He curls his hand around my wrist before threading his fingers through mine. It’s the closest we’ve ever come to physical intimacy. It affects me in a whole new way. A way that makes my heart try to force herself upon me and demand I stop denying what I want.
“I imagine you’ve got a million things to deal with every day,” he says. “Are you going to make me keep putting this conversation off?” And there’s that challenge.
I try to pull my hand from his but he doesn’t allow that. He tightens his hold and says, “Talk to me. Tell me why you’ve chosen this path. I’m only interested in your happiness and if doing this work is making you happy, then I’ll stop pushing you.”
“It does make me happy.”
“But?”
Of course, he knows there’s a but.
I exhale a breath, a long breath, before giving him a small smile and letting go of his hand. “Why must you be so good at this?”
“At wanting to know how you are?”
“No, at refusing to just take what I say as true. At being able to see the little things about me that no one else seems to see.”
“The things they don’t bother looking for. I will always look for those things, Kristen. They’re important to me.”
And there’s that voice of his that wraps itself around me and helps me be brave.
“I like the work I’m doing, but yes, I want to do more. However, I think I need to take that slowly.”
His brows pull together. “What does that mean?”
“I’m going to use this work to build my experience that will hopefully help me find a job that’s more in line with what I want to do.”
“How long do you think that will take?”
“Maybe a year.”
“You could do this work on the side while you get a job. Double the experience.”
“I could.” There’s no point arguing that. He’ll just demolish any argument I present.
“But you won’t.”
Neither of us are calling out the elephant in the room, but we’re both more than aware of it. I stare up at the sky while I arrange my thoughts. Bradford gives me the space to do that.
Finally, I look back at him. “I don’t have it in me to go against him. Not yet.” My confession falls between us with certainty. I might have a lot of uncertainty and doubt about myself, but this is the one thing I’m more than confident on.
My father’s approval is more important to me than I wish it was. If I could change one thing about myself, it would be this. I would prefer to be like my sister who goes against him over almost everything. But as much as I try, I fail. I always,always, run back to him and do what he wants me to. As much as I hate being the good girl, that’s what I am.
Bradford’s hard edges soften as he looks at me with empathy. “Okay, so one year. I’m holding you to that.”
