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“Yeah.” I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“Dad, this isn’t the time,” Tristan warns him, but Mr. Remington waves him off.
“It’s the perfect time. Sage has a promising future, and I’d love to help her achieve it,” he tells Tristan.
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with being talked about as if I’m not here. I guess that’s better than people gossiping behind your back, but this isn’t gossip. This is my career. One I never had a chance to achieve. Regret swirls in the pit of my stomach. As delicious as the steak is, I’m no longer hungry.
“Tell me about your work,” Paul asks.
Words get stuck in my throat. I can push through this. What’s another white lie added to the mountain we’ve already built?
“I studied computer engineering at the University of New Hampshire,” I pause, looking at Tristan.
“That’s a great state college. I was told you work at the coffee shop. I like a person who’s willing to take a lower-level job even if it’s less than they’re qualified for. It shows ambition and a willingness to work.” Paul nods, praising me in what feels like a backhanded compliment.
I run my finger inside the high collar of my dress. Suddenly, it’s suffocating me, although it’s a sleeveless dress. One thing doesn’t compensate for the other, and I feel like ripping off this collar.
“I believe working in any type of job can help shape a person for their future career. What better than serving others to build communication skills?” I force a smile.
“I admire that, but we can both agree that working in a high-level position with a stable salary should be the ultimate goal. Please, send me your resume, and I’m sure we can get you a position above coffee girl.” Paul’s words are the echoes of my failures.
“Thank you,” I say politely.
As soon as we finish dinner—not that I could stomach anything after that conversation—I excuse myself with the not-so-white-lie that I’m feeling sick. The dinner conversation has had me feeling weak all evening. I want to go home. It isn’t the most well-mannered reaction, but it was that or confess everything in front of these powerful people and ruin it for Tristan.
“Sage,” Tristan calls as I walk out of his parents’ house ahead of him.
I continue walking to his car, tempted to kick off my heels. They’re driving me crazy, all part of an act.
“Sage, please.” The plea in his voice makes me stop, though I keep my back to him.
Steps slam against the cement until he’s standing in front of me.
“Don’t let that get to you.”
My eyes remain on my feet and those stupid heels.
“I don’t know what’s going on with them lately. I think ever since Hudson cut them out of his life, they cling to me. It’s weird, even to me, but it’s also a good sign.”
“I feel suffocated.” I look up at him, my hands clutching my clothes. “I’m wearing clothes I don’t normally wear, heels that hurt my feet, and they’re talking about jobs for me. What happens when they find out I don’t have a degree because I quit college?” I throw my hands up, my blood pumping.
His parents were nice again, but there was something else in the atmosphere. The insistence on getting a different job was obvious, and I felt constricted. But I had to keep up the act, not just as Tristan’s girlfriend, but as the ultimate catch who has her life together. It was exhausting and reminded me of the opportunities I’ve lost.
I definitely did not think his parents would be this pushy. Maybe they believe a barista job isn’t good enough for their son’s girlfriend. I panicked at the thought of having to send my resume since I’ll be unable to hide the truth for much longer.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” I shake my head.
“Don’t say that. We’re so close.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
Emotions mar his face. I know this means a lot to him. I’m his winning lottery ticket, but the cost is my heart.
“Sage, look at me.” He gently lifts my chin until my eyes are on his. They swirl with guilt.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think they’d act this way or that it would make you feel like that. I’d never want you to feel forced into anything—or untrue to yourself.” He shakes his head, and his fingers hold my hand, softly stroking my skin.
“I didn’t think about all the repercussions when I agreed to this. I saw someone who deserved to have his dream come true and dollar signs to alleviate my own debt.”
Despite what he’s told me, his parents have been welcoming to me. In their own way, sure, and they still don’t talk to Tristan the way I’d like them to, but they’ve given me a space at their dinner table. I feel terrible about lying to them for money.
