His words resonated inside me, stirring that flicker of hope that always seemed to be snuffed out by others.
“You deservemore, Ottavia.” He squeezed my hand, his thumb caressing the back of my hand in a soothing gesture. “You deserve to live a life that’syours.How you choose to live it, who you marry, and who you love.”
“For what it’s worth, I agree.” I paused. “But it doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Why are you talking like you’re actually going to go through with it?”
I frowned and averted my gaze. I couldn’t give him the answer he wanted to hear.
“Ottavia.” I could hear his hurt when he spoke my name. “Why?”
“Because I don’t have a choice.”
“Uh.Yeah,you do. Your dad can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he insisted, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“He can, though.”
“How?!”
“He has ways,” I whispered, the weight of the truth heavy on my shoulders.
“Like what?”
“Money. What else? It’s written into my trust fund.”
He leaned back, his face scrunching with surprise. “He candothat?! Trust funds work like that?”
I nodded. “He sure can, and they sure do.”
“Damn.” Dakota groaned with a mix of frustration and anger.
Our conversation came to a pause as the server approached with our food. I could see the shock still lingering on Dakota’s face as it slowly dawned on him that I wasn’t going to get out of this.
With nothing else to say, I gave Dakota a smile and said, “Buon appetito.”
17
Better Idea
Dakota
Ihated thinking about Ottavia’s shitty situation. We were powerless to change it, a reality that hung between us. Once we got our food, I decided to ask about something more light-hearted.
“So how do you like working here?” I asked, wanting to change the mood.
“Oh, Iloveit,” she gushed.
A sparkle filled her eye as she told me about her job—she liked having the daily routine, she liked feeling productive, and she loved the people she worked with. She alsoloved that, as a hostess, she didn’t have to sweat and grind in a chaotic kitchen—no, her job was to greet the customers, so looking cute and presentable was part of the job.
“Not gonna lie, I like that,” she admitted with a giggle.
I didn’t mind it, either, because she lookedamazing.The time we’d spent apart had only made hermorebreathtaking than I remembered, and her summer dress hugged her in all the right places. She wore her hair up in a crown of braids, a regal touch that seemed so fitting.
“I bet the guys in the kitchen are obsessed with you, huh?” I asked with a chuckle. “Bet you’ve got twenty different line cooks and dishwashers crushing on you.”
“Well, I don’t know about that …” she demurred, but I could tell it was true.
“Seriously, though, you look great,” I said. “And I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
