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“And what’s that?”
“Quit,” she says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Go and work somewhere that has absolutely nothing to do with your family name. Don’t give anyone a chance to blame nepotism for everything you achieve.”
It’s not like I haven’t thought about that before. But where would I go? What would I do? “I’m not like you,” I tell her. “I don’t have anything I’m passionate about. There’s never been one career that always just made sense to me. That felt right. The only thing I’ve ever wanted to be is successful.”
“So find it,” she says, looking me square in the eye. “Find your passion.”
Can a passion be a person? Because right nowshe’sthe only thing I feel strongly about. This beautiful, passionate, stubborn woman who doesn’t think twice about telling me what I really need to hear. I’d happily dedicate my life to makingherhappy if she’d let me.
It’s strange to think that we’ve come this far from that disastrous first meeting.
“Can I ask you something? It’s been on my mind for a while.”
She nods. “Shoot.”
“When we first met, you didn’t like me.”
She arches a brow. “And who says I like you now?”
I feel emboldened by the smile toying at her lips, and I lean in close enough for our fingers to brush. When she doesn’t jerk away, I thread my fingers through hers and marvel over how nicely her hand fits in mine. She doesn’t move to pull away. In fact, she folds her fingers over mine and gives me a tentative squeeze. I squeeze back and gently tug her toward me, making room as she slides off her beanbag and onto mine. She drapes her long legs over mine and rests her head against my chest.
“Why didn’t you like me?”
My voice is barely a whisper and she doesn’t respond at first. I wonder if maybe the thudding of my heart is too loud for her to hear over, but then she shifts slightly and looks up at me. There’s a sheepish expression on her face.
“I overheard you on the phone complaining about how much the design was going to cost,” she says wryly. “I think you said something about us charging you too much for picking out a few paint colours and picking out some furniture at IKEA.”
Shame pools inside me. I remember that conversation; I’d been talking to my property manager back in New York. “Amber, I—”
She smacks my chest gently with her free hand. “You’ve already apologised. It’sfine.”
“It’s not fine. I didn’t know how much went into your job before, but that’s no excuse for talking down on you like that. I’m so sorry. I told you to leave Cynthia for making you feel small, but I’ve been doing the same thing.”
Although she told me not to apologise, the smile she throws my way tells me she’s glad to hear me say that. “Firstly, never compare yourself to Cynthia. And secondly, it really is fine. It was always less about you and more about me. My mother and Patrick aren’t my biggest supporters and that’s the kind of thing they always say. When I heard you say it, it just felt like another stab to the gut, you know? It was easy to take my frustrations about them out on you.”
I lean back on my beanbag until I’m practically lying horizontal. I pull her body over mine and she swings a leg over my thigh, her head still resting on my chest. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I murmur as I absentmindedly run my hand up and down her back. “For what I said. For how I acted. For your parents—”
Another smack to my chest. “Definitely don’t apologise forthem.”
“I don’t understand them. Why wouldn’t they be supportive of you?”
I feel her shrug against my chest.
“Cynthia doesn’t pay me very well and they don’t really understand what I do every day that has me gone for such long hours. They think it’s just picking out paint and furniture too.”
There’s a bitterness to her voice and I understand now why my words cut her so deep.
“But it’s fine—”
“Stop saying it’s fine when it’s clearly not.”
She lifts her head and pokes my chin. “Itisfine, because I’ll be moving out soon.” She looks down and then back up at me and grins shyly. “I bought the house.”
“You bought the house?”
She nods and says, a little louder this time, “I bought the house!”
I don’t even think as I wrap my arms tightly around her, pulling her flush against my body as I squeeze. “Congratulations, sweetheart.” I press a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’m so proud of you.”
