Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I hesitate, part of me fearful what’s happened between me and Ethan will impact the business side of this trip, but I quickly set that idea aside. He assured me the two were not one, and even if he wants to back out right now, the board is all-in. He’d look bad—wishy-washy—if he turned on me, and I’m quite certain Ethan Dalton is not a man who would like to be perceived in such a way. “They’re interested in doing a Zoey high-end line for the stores,” I dare, a flare of excitement inside me just saying that out loud.
“Okay, what? They what? When? How? Most importantly, why did you just tell me this as if it’s nothing? What the heck is going on?”
I place the call on speaker and twist the sheets in my fingers. “There’s a catch.” Why is my heart thundering as if I’m about to lie? We aren’t liars in my family, that’s why, but I’m not even sure I know what the truth is to tell about anything that happened to me. And he hates Ethan. He really does, and no good can come of telling him anything true.
Lies are sometimes necessary, my mother had once said, but only, and I mean only, when it’s to prevent the pain you might cause someone else. Only when they are so much gentler than the truth that it’s soul-changing for the other person.
I don’t know that the Ethan side of my story is soul-changing for my father, but the pain on top of more pain perhaps is. “A condition of the good stuff is the bad. The board is requiring I spend six weeks in Paris training with a big designer who must then sign-off on my abilities for them to move forward.”
“Whoa. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. This is amazing. What’s the bad part?”
“Dad, I’ll have to leave for weeks. That’s the bad part.”
“That’s not bad. That’s called living life, and in a grand way.”
I think of the advance I’d been offered on my pay, enough to take care of my father, but there is this gut-clawing feeling that it might be a pay for play with Ethan. I am almost indignant for him a moment later. That man does not need to pay to play with anyone, most certainly not me. Believe in myself, I shout silently. My work is what’s in play. “I’m worried about my store. I’m worried it falters and this goes nowhere.”
“You have an amazing staff member and me. I’ll help.”
“You can’t do that. You have business to attend to of your own.”
“I can spare a bit of time to help you achieve the dream, honey. We got this. When do you leave?”
“You’re stubborn and incredible. And I have yet to tell them I’m accepting.”
“You’re stubborn and incredible. What are you waiting on?”
“I don’t know,” I say, but a truth flows easily from my lips. “I guess…I’m scared.”
“Fear is good. It keeps you on your toes. It keeps you present. It means you care.”
I do care, I think. About my career, about him, and unfortunately a bit too much about Ethan. “I’m eager to get home and to the store to try to plan this all out.”
“Get some rest. We’ll pop champagne when you get here.”
“That would be nice. Dinner tomorrow night?”
He clears his throat. “I actually have a date. Would you believe it?”
“Oh, now it’s my turn to say whoa. You know I need details—well, the ones that a daughter can hear.”
He barks out laughter. “I’m not sure I’m exciting enough these days to live up to that comment.”
“Well, as your daughter, I won’t complain, but—who is she?”
“The owner of a restaurant that just brought in our whiskey. She’s a bit of an entrepreneur. She’s opening a couple of new locations soon.”
“She sounds interesting. How old?”
“Forty-two.”
The same age Mom would be if she were alive, but I don’t say it. “Her name?”
“Kelly.”
“Kelly,” I repeat, trying that out on my tongue, a bit nervous for him. He needs this. “I want to hear more. She gets you tomorrow night, and I get you the next? You can tell me about the date then. Or—if you have a second date, we can move it to breakfast. Of course, if you’re tied up—”
“Stop already. It’s Sunday night. We’ll do dinner Tuesday night. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud of you, honey.” His voice is warm with the emotion behind those words. “You dared to present your own line, and look where you are now. You made this happen.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Night, honey.”
“Night,” I murmur and allow the phone to drop to the bed, and ironically, considering all that has happened, I find myself replaying a conversation I had with Ethan.
“Since I was a little kid obsessed with Barbie. I actually started drafting designs at age ten. My mother was so proud. She showed them to the world, and I swear she would have sent out public announcements when I got into design school, had I let her.”