Hi! Thank you so much for reading and thank you for the support everyone has given me throughout this story. It's nearly done, I've just got some editing to do, there is going to be 31/32 chapters all together. I appreciate you all so much and all comments you have on this story are valid and I will be taking them into account as I continue to edit and post!
Tris
"Let me talk to my daughter alone." Dad turns to me with a knowing expression.
It's funny. I've spent so much time trying to protect him. Trying to hide the ugly truth. I've almost forgotten what it feels like to have someone trying to protect me.
"Of course." Tobias squeezes my hand. He pulls me a tiny bit closer. Then he leans in. Presses his lips to mine.
My body responds immediately. Electricity courses through my veins. Collects between my legs. A blinking neon sign flashes must have Tobias.
It's bright enough it belongs in Times Square.
It's loud enough it would actually get attention in Times Square.
Of course, Tobias could afford that kind of thing. What does it run, a billboard asking for marriage, announcing love, telling the world she's mine?
I pull back with a sigh. Focus on something else. It's no good. I can taste him. And I want more. My entire body is screaming more, more, more.
My cheeks flush. My chest too. I brush my hair behind my ear. Offer my best smile. This is supposed to look real. So Dad doesn't ask questions.
"I'll find something to eat," Tobias says.
"Take her somewhere nice after this," Dad says. "You can afford it."
I can't help but laugh. Tobias does too. And Dad. It's easy. Like old times.
Tobias nods take your time and lets himself out.
Dad motions for me to move closer. He turns the kettle to a hundred ninety degrees. Lifts the lid.
He focuses on fixing the tea, pouring the water, stirring the leaves, straining the tea, letting my anxiety build. The same thing he did when I was younger.
It worked so well. He always got me to confess. Not that I did a lot that needed confessing. I've always been a model daughter. I've always known what was expected of me.
"Dad..." I try my best assistant smile, but it's awful.
He sees through it immediately.
I used to act, didn't I? It was just high school, but it was something. I found a way to believe my words. I found my character's motivation.
I can do that now.
No assistant smile. No fakeness. Only reality.
Tobias is making my life easier. I'm moving into an amazing apartment half a dozen blocks from the river.
Beautiful view. Plenty of tea. Lush leather couch.
And time. The one resource I haven't had in so long. The one resource that isn't renewable. The one resource I've been clinging to.
That's all I want, more time for Dad. This is my best chance. Even if the treatment doesn't work, I have more time.
More time with him.
"I should have said something sooner," I say.
He doesn't reply. He just hands over a cup and motions drink.
I do. Better on the third steep. More guilt-inducing too.
Is this something they teach in classes when they were younger? Or maybe in Aunt Edith's restaurant. Or Dad's office. The church where he practices. He never was all that religious until Mom died.
Ahem.
"I wanted to say something." I try to find the truth in my words. I wanted to tell him how bad the situation was. How many hours I was working. How far I was falling behind. But I didn't want to burden him. He did so much for me. Gave up an entire life. A long work week is nothing. "But I didn't want to worry you."
He makes that mm-hmm sound parents love.
"Things didn't end the best with the two of us. I know I never shared the details, but I could tell you didn't approve."
He does it again, but louder and lower.
"I wasn't sure if it was my decision. Or if you didn't approve of his behaviour. I know you think I overreacted moving to New York, but that wasn't about Tobias." That was only part of it. "I wanted to be here. To go to Columbia." To get away from all those reminders of Mom. To somehow fill the hole in my heart.
I swallow the words that rise up in my throat. I still can't talk about Mom. I can't face how much I miss her.
I turn to Dad. Try to place his expression.
It's pure parental I'm waiting.
I clear my throat.
He makes another mm-hmm. He stretches this one out, so it just barely hints of distaste.
"The truth is, the first time I saw him here, I knew. That I missed him. That I'd always love him. I tried to deny it. I tried to believe something else. I was too proud to admit it. It's not that I made a mistake. I was right to walk away. But things have changed. I need him."
Dad stares at me.
I go to sip my tea, but my cup is empty.
Dad takes it, fills it, hands it back.
I down it in one gulp. Shit, that's hot.
I try to wait for him to respond. For another mm-hmm even. But there's nothing.
When I can't take it anymore, I set my cup on the table, and look him in the eyes. "Are you going to say something?"
"Does he make you happy?"
"What?"
His voice softens. That paternal tone he used when I would hide under my bed, terrified of thunderstorms. "Does he make you happy?"
"Does Tobias make me happy?" I repeat the question without thinking. It's absurd. When did Dad get all these values? "What do you mean?"
"Tris, sweetheart, it's a simple question. Does he make you happy?"
But...
I...
He...
What?
Of all the questions he could ask, that was the last one I expected. I take a deep breath. Turn over the words. Does Tobias make me happy?
He did once. Now? I barely know the man he's become. I only have the last forty-eight hours. The strange offer. The limo ride. The meeting at his office. That throaty dare. You're going to beg me.
My sex aches. So not the time. And not what Dad means. But that is something I miss. Something I need.
There have been other men. I've tried dating since Tobias. There was one guy my sophomore year of college. An artist who saw the beauty in the world. He took me to museums and shows and made me feel like some kind of creative goddess, even when I was reading lines for a 101 class.
I thought I loved him.
Then Dad got sick and things got hard and he couldn't deal. Or maybe I pushed him away. I'm not sure anymore.
Even when things were good when I thought I loved him—
There was always something missing. The sex was good. But only good.
I didn't shake the way I shake at Tobias' voice.
That's not what Dad's asking. But it's the truest thing I have.
"He does." I let my head fill with thoughts of Tobias' deep voice. His cocky smile. His inability to make tea.
"Are you sure?"
Maybe Tobias hasn't made me happy yet. And, yes, I'm always going to resent this obligation. But maybe I can appreciate all the perks. Maybe I can focus on all the problems he's solved. It's not a conventional idea of happiness, but it's something. "I am."
"Then I'm happy for you."
After a short talk about the virtues of marriage, commitment, and grandchildren (I should wait, but not too long), Dad calls Tobias' to the room. Makes him promise to take care of me.
Tobias' smile is so broad I almost believe it's real. He beams. Acts every part of the doting boyfriend.
Then we leave the room and something changes. He slides his arm around my waist. Pulls me a little closer.
My heart thuds against my chest. His touch is comforting and that's terrifying.
I want his love already.
I have another year of this. A year I have to survive without falling for him.
He doesn't have love to give. He proved that six years ago.
I try to repeat the mantra as we drive home. It's a limo this time, not the helicopter, but it's still fast.
New York is beautiful at night. The illumination of the city kills the stars, but it softens the sky too. Turns it to a shade of blue that only exists here.
The skyline comes into view.
God, I do love this city. I know I shouldn't, as a native Chicagoan. I should hate snow and humidity. I should complain about the lack of fresh air and the inferiority to Chicago.
But I can't. I love New York. I love the hustle, the no-nonsense attitude, the endless possibilities.
I always have, but I haven't thought about it in so long. I've been so busy, so distracted, so overwhelmed.
Living this tiny life. My office in the Financial District. The subway to Dad's hospital room. Three more stops and one long walk to our apartment. Rinse. Repeat.
Now that I have time...
I still can't call this freedom. But I have to admit, I do have possibilities.
I let my mind wander to easier times. Tea at the Garden in Chicago. A bike ride across the City. Dinner in a Spanish restaurant, and a pizza in that overpriced Indian place.
Tobias laughing at my holy shit reaction to a super spicy dosa. I thought you could take any amount of heat.
An acting class in high school. My theatre teacher applauding my monologue. Marvelling at the nuance I brought to the character.
We pull into the garage. Take the elevator to Tobias' floor. The penthouse, though it's technically the top two floors. The highest is only accessible via the spiral staircase.
It really does feel like a modern castle.
Here, looking at the Hudson, I almost forget I'm in the most populated city in the country. I almost forget I have no choice in this.
Tobias hangs his trench coat on a rack by the door. Aren't trench coats from London? Plenty of people wear them here. In early spring, when it's cool and rainy, they fit the bill.
He flips a switch. The expensive chandelier illuminates.
Footsteps move in the kitchen. "Is that you, Mr Eaton? Is the future Mrs Eaton with you?" A woman's voice asks. It reminds me of Tobias. Strict. No nonsense.
"Yes, but I'm retiring for the evening." He nods a goodbye to me. "Tori will take care of you."
Tori will take care of me?
"Amar manages things outside the house. Tori manages the house." He motions to the light coming from the kitchen. "She'll fix your dinner. Or, if you prefer, you can order something." He turns to Tori as she moves in from the hallway. "On me, of course."
Tori, a woman in her thirties with a tailored dress and a brown bun, smiles wryly. "Of course, Mr Eaton. I would expect you to take care of your fiancée." She turns to me. "Has Mr Eaton readied a credit card for you?"
"Not yet." He turns to me. "After we sign the papers tomorrow."
She raises a brow. It's not like Amar. He has a certain mischievous joy—the joy of a young Tobias. She's more like a current Tobias. Questioning his intentions, his competence, his right to breathe the same air she does. "Papers?"
"A prenuptial agreement." He waves away her objection. "I know how you feel about them."
"You don't like them?" I ask. It doesn't suit my image of her. I know we've just met, but she seems practical. Reasonable. A man of Tobias' wealth would be a fool to skip a prenup.
"Some things aren't about money." She nods good night to Tobias. "But it's Mr Eaton's choice. He pays me to cook, not to talk about his love life."
"It doesn't stop you," Tobias teases her.
"I can't help it. You give me so much to discuss." There's the slightest hint of teasing in her voice.
He chuckles. "You and Amar..."
"Amar and I have to keep ourselves entertained somehow."
"Entertained and losing money?" He raises a brow.
"We never bet money." Her smile is almost dirty. Then it's not. That normal I'm ready for anything assistant smile. "What would you like, Ms Prior?"
"Tris. Please," I say. "Whatever is easiest."
"Nonsense, Ms... Tris. What's easiest is what you'd like. If you're too tired to consider that, leave it to me. But if there is something you prefer, I'll make it happen."
"Some kind of grilled chicken, maybe." Something Mom made that won't fill my stomach with pangs of nostalgia.
"Of course." She turns to Tobias. "Are you sure you won't be joining us?"
"Send the food to my room." He looks to me, but he doesn't move closer. "I'll make an appointment for you. At my office. First thing tomorrow."
"No. Send it to my lawyer. I'll do it there." I press my lips together. He's already leaving.
What gives? He's been trying to talk me into adoring him all day. Now that I actually need a little comfort, he's leaving.
Maybe... if I ask... if I admit I'm terrified I'm going to wake up to the news my father is gone...
I try to find the words, but I can't. Maybe it's my pride. Maybe it's all the space between us. Maybe it's an inability to trust him after everything.
"Good night, Tobias." I turn to Tori.
She waves me to the dining table. Insists she'll bring me something to drink. If I'd like to cook, fine, but she won't have any interference.
So I sit and let her fix me a cup of cold orange juice. It's good. Strong.
The dinner she makes is fantastic. Almost as good as Moms. Lacking only in that key ingredient. Love.
I guess I should get used to it. A million dollars buys me a year without love. It's not the worst fate in the world. But, at the moment, in this big living room, all alone, with this secret on my chest—
Right now, it feels like it.