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I don’t know quite what to say. We haven’t talked about it. We got a little distracted once we got in the car earlier.
“Your father is…” I pause, searching for a polite term to use.
“Traditional?” Silvan offers.
“Terrifying.”
He cracks a smile. “Yeah, he can be a bit scary.”
“He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“When he looks at me, he sees Little Orphan Annie dressed in rags with a panhandling cup in one hand and a pitchfork in the other.”
He smirks. “He’s just protective of his family, that’s all.”
My eyes widen. “He can’t possibly think I’m a gold-digger. I didn’t even choose to be here!”
“It’s not about that. He doesn’t think you’re a gold-digger; he probably just thinks what he said, that our lifestyle might be a little… not what you’re used to.”
“I’ve never met a rich person with so much disdain for the less financially fortunate.”
Silvan cocks an eyebrow. “How many rich people have you met?”
My mouth opens, then closes. “Well… none. But my guess is some are much less snobby about it.”
He smiles faintly, shaking his head. “It’s not as simple as him having an issue with you not having money. It’s howmuchmoney my family has. I know you probably don’t understand, but it puts us in a different league than most people. We’re not ‘I bought a Ferrari’ rich. We’re ‘one of my yachts has a dirty helipad, maybe I should buy a new one’ rich.”
I squint at him because the levels of wealth might be more than I can grasp having just brushed with it for the first time.
“It’s stupid,” he assures me. “It’s nothing to worry about. Like I said, we’ll take all the necessary precautions to make sure there are no problems. He’s just putting you through your paces, that’s all. Feeling you out to make sure you’re sturdy enough to make it in my family.”
My lips form a pout. I’ve never wanted someone I dislike so vehemently to approve of me so much. “I’m plenty sturdy.”
Silvan smirks, leaning in to steal a kiss. “I know you are,” he murmurs against my lips. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks anyway. It only matters what I think, and I’m intent on keeping you for the long haul.”
He says that so casually, just like he said the pregnancy thing earlier. Like he doesn’t realize it’sa lot, like it doesn’t even cross his mind that it may be less assuring and more frightening to a girl who has just come around to admitting I don’t hate his companytoday.
Maybe marriage and kids and all that seems easy to him because of the peculiar example of happiness his parents seem to have set, but that’s not how it is for most people. It’s certainly not how it was for my parents or any couple I’ve ever met.
Maybe having money makes things easier, but surely it doesn’t make that much of a difference. Plenty of rich people go through marriages like some people go through cars, ditching the old one as soon as it doesn’t run like it’s new anymore and trading up to a shinier model.
It’s hard to explain my fears without insulting him, though.
It’s hard to express that while he’s painting me a perfectly lovely picture of our future together, I’m convinced he’s using fingerpaints and one strong storm could wash it all away.
I like what he’s selling, I just don’t believe in it the way that he does.
A part of me wishes I did.
I bet it would be lovely to be so sure of something, to believe wholeheartedly in the impenetrability of a relationship with someone I’ve basically just met.
When my gaze drifts to his, he’s watching me with a frown of concern. “You okay?”
I force a polite smile and nod even though I don’t think I have to do that with him. It’s an old instinct, but not an easy one to shake.
“You sure?”
