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“It’s not too late to come and work for me,” he replied. “There’s still time to do the right thing. You have more of me than you do of your mother.”
“It doesn’t matter. I will never come to work for you.”
“Don’t be stubborn, Bernard. Your mother and I raised you better than that—”
“Mom is the one who raised me, not you,” I interrupted with a shake of my head. “She’s the one who was there for me and cared about me. Not because she wanted me to be like her but because she did.”
And I had resented him every minute of my life for the way he’d treated her.
Having gone above and beyond as a wife, keeping up appearances and making sure their house was always spotless. My mother had been the perfect wife. Underneath her cool and calm exterior, she had also been a kind and loving person who had showered me with more love and affection than I knew what to do with.
Rather than appreciating the woman she was, my father had treated her like an option. Growing up, I had seen him ignore and belittle her at every turn, but she’d taken it all in stride with her head held high. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why she’d put up with it for all those years.
In the end, it hadn’t done her any good.
On the contrary, she had died of a broken heart, unloved and unwanted by her own husband.
And I wasn’t going to let him do the same to me.
I wouldn’t.
“I don’t know why you have to bring your mother into this,” he responded, his voice rising toward the end. “I gave her a good life. She had everything she could possibly want. So did you.”
“You and I both know that’s not true. You treated her like an afterthought, like she didn’t matter.”
“She understood the pressures of my job and what she was signing up for,” he reminded me in a hard voice. “I never lied to your mother about what to expect.”
“You could’ve at least treated her better. She deserved more from you.”
“I will not be spoken to in that way, boy.” His voice grew louder and more pronounced. “I called to give you a chance to save yourself. There is still time to turn things around for yourself.”
I snatched the phone off the counter and held it to my face. “What are you talking about?”
“I can arrange a meeting with Carla’s father. We can throw you another engagement party. Now that she’s finished her masters, she will want to settle down, and I have it on good authority that she still likes you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
No matter how much guilt I felt, I was never going to love Carla.
I never had.
Agreeing to an engagement had been one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Years ago, when my father had approached me with the idea, the company hadn’t been doing well, and I had spent months trying to find a way out of the mess. Knowing the kind of influence and power Carla’s family had, I had seen an opportunity for myself and for my company.
But I had carried around the guilt and regret with me from the moment I agreed.
And for a year after, I told myself it was for the best.
I had every intention of treating Carla well.
Up until I saw her with another man at a fundraiser gala, and I saw the way her eyes lit up and her features softened. It had taken me seeing her differently to realize my mistake. Not only would I have condemned us both to a loveless marriage, but I also would’ve done it knowingly and willingly. Considering Carla had been nothing but kind and attentive, I knew she deserved better.
She still did.
“She will take you back if you ask her,” my father told me. “All you have to do is ask.”
“I’m not going to ask Carla to take me back. I don’t love her.”
And I doubted that was going to change.
