My blood freezes, and I turn my attention to find Lex’s father. Holding a full glass of whatever sparkling something the waiters serve, he fixes his gaze on me. We’ve not spoken yet tonight. I saw him now and again out of the corner of my eye, but that’s it.
I straighten, picking up my princess guise where I left it.
“Please.” He lifts his glass. “There’s no need for that. I saw you slouch when you joined us for dinner.”
Dipping my chin, I let myself ease, just slightly. Warning bells are going off inside my head. One after the other and then all at once. Waiting for me to be alone cannot have been a mistake. Keeping my tone level, I ask, “What do you want?”
Mr. Hawthorn breathes a humorless laugh. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect you to drop this role of yours quitethatcompletely.”
“Pardon me.”
He swirls the liquid in his glass. “How is Alexander doing in school? I see his grades, but I know there’s more to it than those.”
An assessment.
“You can’t ask him yourself?”
“You see how he treats me.”
Hardening myself, I ask, “Is there a valid reason for it?”
His green eyes, too much like Lex’s, hit me, touches of pain siphoning through. “Perhaps.”
“Then what makes you think I’d tell you something he doesn’t want you involved in?”
“Because.” The man’s attention doesn’t flinch, and the hard ache in his voice doesn’t waver. “I haven’t seen him remotely this happy since his mother died.”
My breath catches, but I search for the angle. I scour for it. After all, this man is Lex’s father. A careless act and a manipulating lie is simple enough to pull off and allow him to gain whatever he wants from me. However, I can’t find any cracks.
“You’ve told me how you see him in general. What is he like at school? What about that place was so compelling even before he met you?”
My heart is stuttering, and I don’t know exactly what to do with this information. Even Lex’s father can tell there’s something important between us. This cold man that Lex can’t bear so effortlessly accepts it as fact.
He frowns when my silence persists. “I’m not the monster,” he states at long last. “I do want what’s best for my son. I want him to be happy and successful and able to continue living in theway he’s used to.”
I smooth my fingers down the silky fabric of my gown. “I don’t think you’re a monster, and I don’t think he sees you like that either. I honestly don’t know the depth of the situation. He doesn’t talk about you. Any mention is put aside. Immediately.” I force myself not to wet my lips, because I can still feel the gloss clinging to my skin, and it irritates me. “I’m not even a part of the situation, so I can’t really offer you anything helpful. All I’ve gathered is that you don’t really approve of or support the fact Lex has chosen acting as his major.”
“It’s not a sustainable career.”
“Perhaps not for a lot of people. But it’s statistically shown that people in Lex’s position are the ones who have the best shot at succeeding. Money helps, put plainly, and he has the skill to back up wherever money would let him get his foot in the door.”
Mr. Hawthorn’s expression sours. “It, like countless other endeavors, will eventually die off. I’m convinced he’s only managed to make it this far out of spite toward me.”
“Have you ever seen him seriously act?”
The self-deprecating smile is also too horribly familiar. “You really believe I’ve ever been invited to witness such a thing?”
I don’t know what this is like. I have the mother who pushes and pushes, takes over. I also have the father who feels so distant sometimes I don’t know if he’s even there. I’ve never witnessed a parent who seems to patiently be present and asking for the permission to become a part of something—no force, clear investment. My chest tightens, and I sigh, hoping I’m not making a mistake. “Consider this your invitation then, I guess. The play at the end of the year is open to the public. I don’t think the ticket price will be a problem for you.”
I notice Lex reenter the room, and my heart lightens, if slightly, to find him carrying two flutes of chocolate milk. Someone stops him on his way, before he even has a chance tocatch my eye, and I watch the lighthearted way his smile fills his face as he laughs and no doubt explains his uncustomary beverage choice.
“You love him, don’t you?”
The words strike me through the stomach, skewering me completely. I whip my attention to Mr. Hawthorn, finding the man completely unperturbed.
“I…” I can barely breathe, but I whisper, “I haven’t exactly told him yet.”
“I’m not sure you have to.” Swirling the drink in his glass once more, Mr Hawthorn watches the liquid. “After he transfers this coming school year, I’d like you to continue to be a part of his life. I’m not so inept as to believe some other girl might fill the place in his heart you seem to have taken up.”
