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“No.” She points her finger at me. “You absolutely will not do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
I smirk at the exasperation in her voice.
“You’re worse than my dad sometimes.” She sighs. “You know he wanted to buy a freaking building when I first moved here.”
I chuckle because I know very well that her father tried to buy some prime real estate in this city to allow her to live in one of the apartments rent-free. Unfortunately, that real estate deal fell through.
“When are you coming home?”
She rolls her eyes skyward and drops her head to the back of the couch. It lands on my forearm.
“I have friends here,” she says, less adamant than a minute ago.
“You have family and me back home.” My voice comes out surprisingly low.
Her eyelids flutter and a smile creeps across her face, revealing a dimple. My stomach contracts at the sight of it.
“A move takes time.”
“I could have movers here this weekend.” I glance around her space.
She gets quiet, and as her hand goes back to my hair, she lays her head on my shoulder. “You’re so damn insistent.”
“So, it’s decided then?”
Her head pops up. “No, it’s not decided. I never agreed to moving.”
“You never really disagreed either.” I know her. If she didn’t want to do something she would flat out say it.
“You could open your gallery back home. The one you’ve always wanted to start,” I tell her. “Real estate isn’t as prohibitive back home. Besides, there you have more resources to work with.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I will not have my father or anyone else do something crazy like buy a building and convince your bank friends or whoever to give me a loan to start my business.”
Always wanting to be Ms. Fucking Independent.
“Why struggle if you don’t have to?”
She sits all the way up and crisscrosses her legs, facing me. “Because this ismyproject. I’ve gotten so much from my parents and family over the years.” Her head drops, but not before I see the sadness that invades her eyes at the mention of her family.
“I can’t ask any more of them.” She shakes her head. “I want this for me and for the women whose work will be featured in my gallery. I want …needthem to have a voice. I can’t do that if the means by which I started the gallery is solely through family connections and nepotism.”
I push out a breath on a long sigh. “I get it,” I admit reluctantly.
It’s the same reason why I haven’t gone to work for my family’s company yet. The need to feel like you aren’t living off of your parents, but that you’re fulfilling the promises they put into you by raising and loving you all of these years.
“But we can still support you.” I raise my hand to stop whatever is about to come out of her parting lips. “It’s a reminder that you’re not alone. You’ve been away from home for too long.”
Six years ago I wasn’t in a position to convince her to stay. Then I thought I permanently lost her heart when she became engaged.
It’s different now. She’s not engaged, and from where I’m sitting, there’s no reason for her to fight so hard to open a gallery here over Williamsport.
I’ve learned to control my temper over the years. I won’t betray her trust by falling into the darkness that once threatened our friendship.
Her mouth closes and the corner kicks up into a half grin. The expression is fleeting when she quickly stuns me with a right jab to my chest.
