I swallow hard and force a smile at the way Tasha’s still pouting. She’s not used to being told no and not getting her way. Usually that makes someone mean and rots them from the inside out. Tasha is different. She’s spoiled, no doubt, but she’s sweet and thoughtful when she doesn’t have to be.
“You’ll have fun without me,” I insist.
“Not as much,” she grumbles, and it warms my heart.
“This way you don’t have to worry about ditching me when some man sweeps you off your feet,” I point out.
Tasha’s eyes light up. She’s a hopeless romantic.
Another thing I envy.
I’ve never had the freedom of the promise of love. Not that I didn’t take full advantage of the freedom I found in college and law school, since I was expected to follow in my father’s footsteps and attend both Harvard and Yale, respectfully.
The only reason I didn’t argue is because it got me out of Denver. It got me away from my parents. Feeling like I could breathe, even with all the academic pressure I was under, was a gift and I was grateful for every second.
I didn’t go feral when I found some freedom. That would have gotten back to my dad. But I did date a little bit, and I lost my virginity. What I didn’t do is fall in love.
I saw far too much of my father, and the men surrounding him while I was growing up, in the men I went to school with. It made it so I wasn’t able to trust any of them completely. Vulnerability wasn’t an option, but a little sexual exploration with the best of them was another matter.
Still, it was perfunctory in a way, a transaction we both understood and accepted. There was a clinical aspect to it which I don’t miss.
I was searching for passion but found I would be better off if I stopped trying.
Then I graduated and my presence was requested, which is just a nice way to say demanded, back home. It was always the plan. I was allowed to escape for school, but then I had to return to Denver, to my family, and take my place at the firm.
While I was expecting to work hard and prove myself, and my worth, to my father and Mr. Prescott, I thought my education and how well I performed throughout school would have garnered me a little respect. I’m not sure why I ever thought that.
It’s not like I didn’t know what my father thought about women, in general, and me, specifically. This is a man who doesn’t know affection or praise. He never let anything slide, and he always placated me as if my problems and my feelings weren’t worth more than the time it took him to appear like he was listening to me.
For the past three years I’ve worked hard at Page and Prescott. It’s gotten me nowhere.
With a wave to Tasha because my throat feels tight as my reality, one I’m not sure I can escape, crashes down around me. As much as going out with Tasha doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, part of me wishes I could say yes.
But I can’t.
Not only will tomorrow morning come far too early, but I’m sure it would make its way back to my father. I earn enoughlooks of disappointment all on my own, for simply breathing. I don’t need my actions to make them worse or more frequent. No, thank you.
Slinking back to my desk, which isn’t in an office, I keep my head down. I know it’s just a matter of time before someone asks me to do some research or, to my mortification, file something. There are times I’m amazed that my father paid for my elite Ivy league education just to make me a paralegal for all intents and purposes.
It seems like a bad investment, but I’m sure that he’ll figure out a way to capitalize on it sooner rather than later. Like he’ll find a way to get me to pop out some kids and become more like my mom than him.
The thought has my stomach clenching as I take some deep breaths to ward off the panic.
It’s not easy to do, considering it feels like I live everyday holding a live grenade and counting down until it explodes.
“Miss Page, please come to Mr. Page’s office,” the intercom on my phone blares loudly in my glorified cubicle.
My back goes ramrod straight as my eyes widen before I look toward my desk phone where the proclamation has come from. I know the edict can’t be ignored, but I wish it could.
It doesn’t take me nearly long enough to make my way to his office. It’s huge and a mirror image of Mr. Prescott’s office next door. The number of offices I had to walk by, all filled with lawyers with the same credentials I have, is staggering. Thankfully, Tasha’s brother and another lawyer at the firm, Eric, has an office on the other side of the building.
I didn’t have to see him, which is always preferred. The way he looks at me, like he owns me, makes my skin crawl. Eric has no reason to be possessive toward me, and he never will.
Try as I might, it’s impossible for me to mentally prepare for whatever my father is about to demand. Panic licks at my skin and I have to swallow a few times to keep myself from getting sick while standing next to the desk my father’s secretary occupies.
Even though she looks up at me and nods, I don’t just walk into my father’s office. I know better than to make that mistake. After knocking, I have to wait at least a minute before he calls out for me to enter.
Enter.
