by Meghan March
“Legend. Saturday night. We’re going to singlehandedly bring the club back to life and make it the most happening hot spot in town.”
They both stare at me like I’m crazy . . . but neither of them back out. Legend’s blue eyes flash through my mind, and a shiver rips down my spine.
I hope you’re ready, Gabriel Legend. Because this is happening.
Fifteen
Scarlett
I’m riding high on some awesome scores from an afternoon in my favorite vintage shops when I walk into La Familia, my father’s Italian restaurant of choice. It’s a far cry from the high-end, pretentious restaurants where Chadwick likes to be seen, which is fine with me. Honestly, I love the place, with its red-and-white-checked tablecloths and kitschy red candleholders. Plus, the eggplant parm is to die for.
The hostess’s face lights up when she sees me. “Welcome, Ms. Priest. Your father has already arrived. Please allow me to show you to your table.”
“Thanks, Lisa.” I smile at her, and she gestures with her hand for me to follow her.
We wind through the tables of diners until we arrive at a table with three place settings in an intimate back corner of the dining room. No doubt my father requested it specifically.
“Enjoy,” she says, returning my smile as the men rise from their seats.
“Scarlett, baby, it’s good to see you. I’ve missed you this week.” Chadwick’s light brown hair ruffles as he reaches out to grab my upper arm and pull me in for a kiss.
As soon as his dry lips slide against mine, my head jerks back, breaking the contact. His brown gaze narrows on my face while I pull myself together and try to shut down the feelings of disgust twisting in my stomach from his touch.
“Something wrong?” he murmurs in my ear as he pulls out my chair for me.
“Nothing, sorry. Thought I was going to sneeze and didn’t want to surprise you.” It’s a lame lie, but his expression smooths out into the placid one I’m used to seeing.
“Glad you could make it, Scarlett,” my father says from across the table as he reseats himself. “You’re looking well.”
I know he means I’m looking more like my mother every day, except for my height, which will never reach her statuesque levels. I haven’t grown an inch since I was fourteen.
“Sorry to keep you both waiting,” I reply, stemming the urge to check my phone and double-check the time to prove I’m not late.
“We came early for a few drinks. Long day,” Chadwick says.
He reaches out to play with my fingers, and it takes everything I have not to snatch them out of his reach. I don’t know why, but I really can’t stand the feeling of his touch tonight.
When was the last time I actually enjoyed his touch? Just like the question Monroe asked earlier today, I don’t have a good answer for this one either.
Now that I know all my friends think he’s a douchebag, and we haven’t had good sex in . . . maybe ever, the list of reasons why I should end this relationship is growing longer by the day. Except . . . there’s one big, weighty reason I’m hesitant to cut it off, and he’s sitting right across the table from me.
My father.
I smile across the table at my dad, wishing he were the one to stand up and wrap me in his arms in a hug and ask me how my day went. Ask how his little girl is doing. Ask if I’m happy. Ask . . . anything.
But that won’t come until later, when he’s had a few more vodka tonics and Chadwick’s amusing comments have loosened him up, helping him remember he’s my father and not just at dinner with a colleague and their significant other.
To say our father-daughter relationship is fulfilling would be a bald-faced lie.
My dad didn’t want a child. He wanted an heir. A son. Someone he could groom to take over his family’s business. Instead, he got me, a mama’s girl with bold ideas of her own who doesn’t like taking orders. Suffice it to say, he still hasn’t gotten over my lack of a penis and failure at blind obedience.
Thankfully, the server comes to the table to bring the men another round of drinks and takes my order. I opt for a nice full-flavored white wine that’ll go well with the eggplant parm I always get.
My father smiles in approval at my choice. “That’ll accompany your usual eggplant perfectly. You’re finally learning to select your pairings well. Good for you, Scarlett.”
It’s a crumb. A tiny taste of approval. An indication that he actually remembers what I normally order. I glom onto it like it’s a five-course meal and savor the comment.
“She’ll be even better after we spend next weekend in Sonoma,” Chadwick says, lifting his glass to his lips.
I whip my head to the side to stare at him. “What?”
He sucks back a mouthful, and I wait for him to swallow so he can explain what the hell he just said. “Big meeting. Your father has graciously allowed us to take his place. It’ll be great. You’ll finally be able to get away from work and relax for a couple of days. God knows I need it. You’re impossible to pry out of that damn store, and I’m getting pretty tired of it.”
So many thoughts are firing through my head at Mach one speed that I have no idea which to address first. Before I can decide, my father chimes in like I’m not even at the table.
“That’ll be a great weekend away for you two kids. You know, Chadwick, Sonoma would make an excellent place to pop the question. Time to make an honest woman of Scarlett.”
What feels like every drop of blood drains out of my head. I can do nothing but gape at both of them in horror. It’s like I’m watching a farce where my life is being determined, and no one thinks I need to be consulted.
Marry Chadwick? I don’t even want him to touch me right now. Neither man notices my expression or shocked silence.
Chadwick tosses back the rest of his bourbon with a chuckle. “I’m going to need another drink before we talk about that, Law.”
Am I in the twilight zone? Because it feels like I’m in an alternate reality right now. A glitch in the Matrix? Maybe that would explain it.
But before they can continue planning my future without my input, I force a sweet smile onto my face and interject with sympathy in my voice I don’t feel. “I’m so sorry, Chadwick. I wish you would’ve spoken to me before you made plans. There’s no way I can leave the city next weekend, let alone go all the way to Sonoma. It’s just not a good time.”
His sharp gaze slices through me as he turns. “Just like last night wasn’t a good time? When will it be a good time, Scarlett?”
The caustic tone of his words scalds me, and heat rushes to my cheeks. How can he possibly bring up his attempted booty call last night with my father sitting right here?
I swallow, my smile a little shakier now. “I’ll see what I can do to clear some time next month. Weekends are really busy with restocking lately due to the heavy traffic in the store.”
“That’s what employees are for, my dear. What’s the point of working so hard if you can’t enjoy life now and again?” This comes from my dad, and I could almost cry at how fatherly he sounds.
Why can’t he be this guy all the time for me? Why does he only remember my existence when Chadwick is involved?
“See, Scar? Even your dad agrees with me. Now say yes, and I’ll get the flights booked so we can have a weekend alone. You never know what’ll happen.” He winks at me, and I want to crawl in a hole.
A weekend alone with Chadwick where he thinks he’s getting laid 24/7? And might propose? The very thought puts me off my eggplant parm, and I haven’t even ordered yet.
My dad smiles and waves to the server. “I think we’re going to need champagne tonight. I feel like celebrating. How about the Krug?”
The server beams with faux happiness for us. “Yes, sir. I’ll have the sommelier bring it right away. I’ll be back for your orders momentarily if you’re ready.”
Chadwick leans toward me with a gleam in his eye to whisper in my ear. “I’m starving. Gonna need my energy for tonight.”
&n
bsp; Eww. Gross.
I jerk back in my chair and pretend to cough, but Chadwick doesn’t even notice because he’s already telling my father something about the menu. I can’t find it in me to be anything but relieved that he’s oblivious to how his presence is affecting me.
If my reactions to Chadwick today aren’t a giant red flag that I need to break it off, I don’t know what is. He’s not going to take it well, and I can’t have that discussion—or rather, argument—in front of my father, so it won’t happen tonight. I’ll just have to soldier through and talk to him alone tomorrow.
Thankfully, the men don’t need me to participate in their conversation. They keep right on talking like I’m not even here.
I glance around the restaurant and get caught up staring at a family passing plates around the table so they can taste each other’s dishes. They’re laughing and smiling, and as much as I love seeing that, it sends a stab of envy through me.
We’re not that family. We never will be that family. A corner of my heart cracks at the thought of what will never be.
The champagne comes, and then our food and another round of drinks, followed by dessert. Through it all, my mouth is as dry as sawdust, and the delicious meal is completely tasteless because of the chaos in my brain.
How is it possible that my friends see Chadwick for what he is, but my father only cares about adding a son to the family tree? What is our breakup going to do to my relationship with my father? How the hell am I supposed to handle this gracefully? Why can’t there be an easy way out?
I wish I were one of those people who could just say, “I think we should end it,” but I’m terrified. I know Chadwick’s going to fight dirty to try to get me to stay. Or at least, I think he will. He might be a douchebag, but he’s not stupid and never has been. I’ve always known, in the back of my mind, that if I weren’t who I am, he wouldn’t be with me. But, then again, I also knew that if he weren’t a VP in my father’s company, I wouldn’t be with him either. I would have already ended things.
In a way, we’re both guilty of using the other for our own reasons.
I take a long look at my father and wish we could have a normal relationship where he gave a shit about me on a regular basis, and not just when he was reminded by one of his employees that I’m alive.
Is my father just broken? Or is it me?
My mom said she’d fallen madly in love with Lawrence Priest from the very beginning, but their relationship was tumultuous. They fought and loved passionately in equal measure, until in the end, it burned them both out.
“Don’t look for the raging inferno of love, Scar,” my mother once told me. “Look for the steady heat of a banked flame. It’ll last much longer and won’t leave so many scars on your heart.”
I thought I was following my mother’s advice with Chadwick. There was never a raging inferno, only a low simmer of interest and mutual respect, but that seems to have disappeared.
There’s no doubt in my mind that we’ve reached the end of the line. I just have no idea how to cut things off without a big blowup.
“You remember that, don’t you, Scarlett?”
My father’s question pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry, what?”
“That family vacation we took to the Alps where you learned to ski. I was saying it’d make a great getaway for a family Christmas for all of us.”
And there my father goes, throwing out the lure of something I’d kill for—a family Christmas. My heart practically aches at the thought, because it won’t happen.
For the past few years, he’s been out of the country for Christmas with his most recent wife and occasionally some of her children. I wasn’t invited because she said I looked too much like my mother and she couldn’t handle it.
But after they divorced this spring . . . Dad’s a free agent who apparently has time for his daughter again.
“I love to ski, so you know I’m down for it. We could do New Year’s there too. Make a week of it,” Chadwick says.
For a moment, I contemplate if I could stomach being with him a few more months in order to have that one week with my father. Think of the memories, Scarlett.
I picture myself in the middle of a snow globe, laughing with my parents and tossing snowballs like we did in the Alps. My mom’s golden-blond hair shone in the sun as she dodged out of the way in her black spandex ski pants and puffy pink jacket. It’s a memory I’ve savored for years. There isn’t much I wouldn’t give to have another one just like it. I could wrap it up in my heart and hold on to it long after my father forgets I exist again.
“That sounds great, Dad.” It breaks my heart to think the trip won’t even get booked if I break up with Chadwick. My father will find some reason not to go if it’s just the two of us. Like he’s uncomfortable being around his only daughter alone. The disappointment shreds me.
What do I do?
Thankfully, the bill is paid and we’re filing out of the restaurant a few minutes later. On the sidewalk, my father throws an arm around my shoulders and brings me in for a side hug. I swear I feel his lips briefly press against my hair with a kiss.
“Don’t work too hard, Scarlett. Your mother would tell you the same thing.”
The gruffly whispered words wrap around my heart, and it squeezes until it might burst.
This is why I put up with Chadwick. This is what I’m always hoping to get from my father.
And you’re fucking pathetic, my inner voice says. Who stays with a guy just to get attention from her own father? That’s fucked up.
Immediately, I fire back. He’s not getting any younger. What if this is all I get with him? I only have one parent left. Is it so wrong to want to see him and have his approval? Even if it’s based on something that I don’t like?
Smiling through the contradictory thoughts, I press a kiss to his lined cheek. I open my mouth to tell my dad I love him, but he’s already walking away to slap Chadwick on the back.
My entire body deflates like an untied balloon. I must make a noise, because both Chadwick and my father look at me.
“Something wrong, Scarlett?” Dad asks.
Honesty is out of the running, for obvious reasons, so I paste that fake smile on my face once more. “Just tired. I stayed up too late doing numbers. I should get home and make it an early night.”
Chadwick shakes his head. “You work too hard, like your dad said. Come over, and I’ll spoil you. You’ll sleep great.” He holds out his hand with a phony smile as my father watches us. I have no choice but to go to Chadwick.
Wrong. I always have a choice, I remind myself, but it doesn’t change the outcome.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Chadwick. Make sure our girl gets home safe.”
“’Bye, Dad,” I say, hating the punishing grip Chadwick has on my fingers.
“See you tomorrow, Lawrence.”
With that, my father slides into the back of a black town car, leaving Chadwick and me alone.
“You’re fucking tired again? Really?” His polite smile is gone, and in its place is a sneer.
“Sorry. It’s been a long week. Why don’t we plan to meet up—”
Before I can finish, he drops my fingers and cuts me off. “I’m getting tired of this shit, Scarlett. I have needs too, you know. And you’re my fucking girlfriend who I don’t see often enough to have those needs met, and that’s before we consider all your damn excuses. I’d like to get laid on a regular basis, but you might as well be a fucking block of ice.”
The attack comes so quickly, I have no time to armor up before his words slice through me.
“Chadwick—” I try to get a word in, but he yanks something out of his pocket. It’s a business card.
“I made you an appointment with someone Friday morning. Nine a.m. If you want a chance in hell of going on that Christmas ski trip with your dad, you’ll be there. Got it?”
I want to protest. Friday is the only day we’re open to the public, and I already have self-defense
class taking up a chunk of the afternoon. Plus, I don’t think there’s any way I can stand to be around Chadwick for the months between now and Christmas.
But I don’t put up a fight. I’m not the kind of woman who has arguments and breakups on a public sidewalk. Too much exposure, and the chance of a photographer catching it is far too high.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Scarlett?”
“You’re giving me an ultimatum,” I reply, my voice devoid of emotion.
“Smart girl. We’ll talk tomorrow. Don’t forget dinner Saturday. Amy put it on your calendar. At least that’s one way I can get some time with you. Maybe I should start having her add in the nights I need some ass too.”
My skin feels blistered from his acerbic tone, and I remind myself that I’m not doing this in public.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Chadwick. Have a nice night.” I turn and take a step down the sidewalk, intent on finding a cab since I told my driver I wouldn’t need him, but Chadwick grabs my arm.
“Your dad said to see you home safe, so that’s what I’m doing. Come on.”
It’s the longest, most uncomfortably silent ride home in the history of rides through Manhattan. When I finally shut the door of Curated behind me, I slide down the wooden panel into a crumpled heap on the floor. Tears spill down my face.
How the hell did I fuck up a perfect life so badly?
Sixteen
Legend
My phone buzzes with a text.
* * *
Q: She just got home from dinner. Boyfriend dropped her off but didn’t go inside. Still no sign of cops. Wish you’d let me have one of the girls steal her fucking phone at dinner, so we’d know for sure.
* * *
All I care about is one part of that message, and it’s the part that shouldn’t matter to me at all.
Boyfriend dropped her off but didn’t go inside.
The magazine on my desk is still open to the picture of the two of them. Why, I don’t fucking know.