Things were going to be better now. Not perfect, but better. And really, what more could I ask for?
Fifteen
I was pacing the apartment.
“Where the hell are we going to take them?”
For the past several days, I’d been stricken with random anxiety about my parents every so often. It had gotten to the point where I no longer had to provide any context for Daniel to know exactly who, and what, I was talking about.
“Anywhere and everywhere,” he said, putting a dish in the rack.
“They’ll complain if there’s too much walking.”
“Well, everywhere that’s not a museum.”
“And what about dinner? We can’t take them someplace nice, they won’t have anything to wear. Plus they’ll think I’ve turned into a snob.”
“I’ll cook for them,” said Daniel, mildly, drying his hands. “They’ll love that. Parents always do.”
I looked at him in complete bewilderment.
“What?” he said. “You think I’ve never had to undo someone’s parents’ impressions of a rich young asshole?”
“I guess I never really thought about it,” I admitted.
“Best case scenario, you’re a Kardashian. Worst case, Patrick Bateman. Until you have them over, cook them a nice meal, and chat with them about all sorts of normal human things.” He smiled. “I’ll admit to having trouble with certain people, but parents are easy.”
“Oh, well, excuse me,” I said. “I didn’t mean to impugn your abilities.”
“They think they care about all sorts of lofty things, like your true personality and your long-term ability to support their daughter, but really they just want someone who makes them feel warm and welcome. It’s all about first impressions. They want to be charmed, even if they don’t think they do.”
“Speaking of Patrick Bateman,” I said, wincing as I sat down on the stool. They weren’t quite as comfortable as they used to be, before little Laura started to grow.
“I might be accused of social maladjustment,” said Daniel. “But not a psychopath. Please. Give me some credit.”
“Yeah, if you are, you’ve hidden it pretty well.” I gave up on trying to get comfortable and wandered into the living room. “Okay, well, let me know when you’ve devised the tasting menu for my parents’ visit.”
“Oh, it’s not going to be anything fancy,” said Daniel. “That defeats the whole purpose.”
I couldn’t stop looking at him with a confused smile on my face.
“What?” he said.
I just shook my head.
“You think you know a guy.”
***
My parents were here, and I hadn’t lost my mind.
Yet.
“Oh,” my mother was almost tittering. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” I wanted to die. Daniel turned on his brightest smile for her benefit, and she actually blushed. I was surprised that he didn’t kiss her hand.
“You look beautiful, honey,” my dad said.
“Thank you for not saying ‘glowing.’” I smiled at him.
My mother didn’t look nearly as different, although there were many more flecks of gray in her hair than before.
“Nice place,” said my dad, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t trying to be pointed about it. “I bet there’s waiting lists a mile long.”
“There are,” said Daniel. “Thankfully, I knew the property owner when the place first opened. I even had the staircase custom made.”
“It’s something else.” My dad sounded strangely awed, with none of that sarcastic edge I was expecting.
I don’t know what I thought would happen, exactly - that Daniel would be awkward or standoffish, or something of the sort. I knew he was more than capable of charming people. But seeing it in action was something else.
“I’m so glad you were both finally able to get away from work and come visit,” said Daniel, graciously establishing to precedent that we weren’t going to discuss the actual reasons they hadn’t. Which, granted, mostly just boiled down to my inability to put up with their bullshit.
“I’m sure you know what that’s like,” said my dad.
“You must have an awful lot on your shoulders,” my mom agreed.
Daniel shrugged it off. “Day to day, it’s not bad,” he said. “I have a very good team of people working alongside me.” Not under him. A very deliberate word choice, I thought. “I have to say, it was bittersweet, losing Maddy’s talent from the company. But I couldn’t have the conflict of interest; it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else.”
“Of course not,” said my mother. “But I’m glad to hear that you appreciated her.”
“Still do,” said Daniel, with a beatific smile. “But for a whole new spectrum of reasons.”
“It wasn’t the most artistically rewarding job, anyway,” I said. “I’m glad I have the time to do things on my own now.”
“Oh? Are you still doing your drawings?” My mom took a sip of wine.
“Yes, honey, remember? We saw it in the paper,” my dad said, patiently.
“Oh, oh, that’s right. Well, that’s very nice.”
They were both carefully avoiding any commentary on my actual art, which didn’t surprise me. They’d never liked it, and usually dismissed my drawings and frivolous in one way or another. That wasn’t a conversation I was particularly eager to have with them again.
“Such a beautiful place,” my mom said, so quietly it almost seemed like she was talking to herself. “Did you decorate any of it, honey?”
“Not really,” I said. That was another thing: they’d never been very clear on the distinction between graphic design and interior design, no matter how many times I explained it to them.
“It’s sparse,” said my dad.
“Modern is the word,” my mom tutted. “I love it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” said my dad.
“I just picked up a few pieces more or less at random, when I got the place,” Daniel cut in. “I was utterly surprised to realize they all fit together, more or less. All the appliance and light fixtures and all that - the credit goes to the architect who designed the place and my friend who actually bankrolled it.”
“The bedroom loft is very appealing,” my mom said.
“I like that it gives a feeling of separation between the bedroom and the rest of the place,” Daniel agreed. I hid my smile.
“Well,” I said, trying to switch topics from this incessant HGTV prattling. “So, dad, how’s work?”
He shrugged. “Well, old Mr. Farmer finally retired. Turned out it didn’t matter. What’s that old line? ‘Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.’”
Oh good; it wasn’t even dinner yet, and my dad was already quoting song lyrics.
“The Who,” said Daniel, grinning as he pulled a pan down from the hanger.
“I saw them in concert once,” said my mom. “And, believe it or not - they cut off drinks towards the end of the show, and I had this beer I’d barely touched. This man with a backstage pass came up and offered me a trade. Naturally enough, I took it.” She paused to sip her wine. I’d heard this story so many times I could have mouthed it along with her.
“I hate this story,” my dad griped.
“Hush.” My mom slapped him lightly on the arm. “I had a life before you.”
Daniel was absolutely eating this up, his eyes dancing from one to the other of them. I knew I wasn’t going to hear the end of this once we were alone.
“Anyway, I went backstage and met them all. And they were perfectly nice men. And gentlemen,” she emphasized, glaring at my father. “Howard doesn’t believe me.”
“I know how girls are with rockstars,” my father griped. “You can tell me whatever you want, but I know what goes on.” He started drumming his fingers on the table. “Although I guess it’s the same thing for any powerful man, isn’t it?” He looked at Daniel pointedly.
“Howard!” My mom smack his arm again. “
Not in front of Maddy.”
“Jesus Christ, mom,” I said, with my head in my hands. “I know he wasn’t a virgin when we met.”
My dad started snickering.
I couldn’t stand the thought of looking at Daniel. “So, what about you, mom? Anything new and exciting?”
“Oh, no. Not me.”
“Not since that Who concert,” my dad mumbled.
“HOWARD!”
“Oh my God, both of you,” I pleaded. “Stop.”
I finally looked up at Daniel. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered.
“Well,” he said, wiping down a Santoku knife. “How does everyone like their steak?”
***
Excerpted from Daniel Thorne: A Life
When Daniel first told me that he wanted to get his biography written, I thought it was a bit premature.
After all, he’s still got quite a bit of life ahead of him. What was there to reflect on, at this point? Why bother? What kind of insight could he possibly have about things that happened only a short time ago?
Of course, that was before I knew about everything that was going to happen.
In the last year, we’ve had to face up to things we couldn’t have predicted. Things I never even imagined. There were times when I practically had to pinch myself as a reminder that what was happening was, in fact, real, and not some insane fever dream.
So in a way, this was the perfect time to write his biography.
I had to come back to the project after a long lull. Once I looked back on what I’d already put down, the pieces all started to come together. I started to understand exactly how I had to tell his story - and why.
It’s not just so people will understand him. Or understand us. It’s not just to make some facile point about successful people - they all think this way, or they all do this thing or they all don’t do that thing. It’s not to prove anything to anyone. And it’s not, despite what some people might think, a cheap tool to elicit sympathy for someone whose position in life is more enviable than most.
By the time I finally understood the purpose of this book, it was so clear to me that I felt stupid for not realizing it before.
It’s for everyone who’s ever thought about “what if.” It’s for every kid sitting on the floor in every home all over the world, looking at something that thinking: I could make that.
It’s for anyone with even the tiniest spark of genius, the smallest seed of an ambition. It’s for people who chase their dreams and don’t take “no” for an answer. And it’s for the people behind those people; the ones who support them, who teach them, who raise them. The ones who love them.
It’s for everyone who’s worked hard, but stayed invisible. It’s for everyone who feels unappreciated.
This story is for all of you.
It’s important, and not because it’s the story of an important man. It’s important because people need to know where people like Daniel Thorne really come from. It’s not their circumstances that make them. It’s what they choose to be.
Many people will tell you can you can be anything, do anything you want, but not many of them will tell you how. There’s certainly not a one-size-fits-all answer, but I like to think that if you read this book carefully, you’ll find the answers you need.
- M
About the Author
Melanie Marchande is a young writer who loves creating fun, flirty, and occasionally steamy stories about two people realizing they just can't live without each other. If you'd like to read more from her, please leave a review letting her know what you liked about the book so she knows what to write next! You can also connect with her online:
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Coming Soon
A New Adult Contemporary Romance from Mina Bennett
He's the only thing she has left to believe in...
Marissa was the first person to break Jacob's heart. When they were children, she made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. She didn't mean to, but her mother had ordered her to stay away from her Sunday school crush: "He's a nice boy - don't you ruin him." So she kept her feelings hidden, telling herself that no matter how sweet he seemed, he'd still end up turning on her, like everyone else did.
Jacob never loved anyone like he loved Marissa. He knows he should try to forget about her, especially now that he's engaged and she's happily married - or so everyone says. Even though they've grown and gone their separate ways, in their tightly-knit community, that still means seeing each other at every Sunday service, church picnic and backyard barbecue. He swears that her eyes still have that sad, haunted look, but he manages to keep his distance.
Until one summer night, when everything changes.
With Jacob's relationship in shambles and Marissa pushed to the breaking point, they're drawn together by an unstoppable force. Temptation is irresistible. Giving in is unthinkable. But it soon becomes clear that nothing - neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation - can keep them apart.
Verse quoted from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
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I Married a Billionaire: The Prodigal Son (Contemporary Romance) Page 16