Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
And yet, here I am, still trying to figure things out. I mean, I know everyone is different, and we all have our own struggles, but it’s the part of me that really annoys me the most. I feel like I’m failing at life. But I also feel that by living here, I am starting to become who I’m meant to be, by starting to love myself and find out who I want to be. And none of that will align with my parents’ expectations.
“Honey, have your fun here and come back home. We never forced you to work, and you really don’t need to,” my mother says empathetically as she takes a small forkful of her salad.
I sigh. I know she’s trying to help, but she isn’t. My sister watches me carefully, and Crue looks… bored? Probably pissed that he’s had to push back their private jet a few hours for this dinner just to listen to me be scolded.
My father waves at the waiter for more red wine. He and Crue both ordered the steak—bloody, of course. I haven’t touched my meal.
“You’ve been here for three months,” my father adds. “We were expecting you to come back home by now.”
“I’m rather enjoying my stay,” I tell them.
“But don’t you miss home?” my mother asks. “Unless there’s a special someone you’re staying here for?”
My father’s glare is piercing. I let out a sigh. My parents have always been like this. My mother encouraging a dating life because she enjoyed her youth before meeting our father, and my father adamant I’m not to see anyone because I’d be married off. Now I’m certain he wants me to die a sweet, innocent angel. Alone and a virgin, preferably.
“Honey’s been making progress,” Rya says on my behalf. I appreciate the support, but it also makes me feel insignificant that I need her to stand up for me. “She’s made friends and is enjoying the differences in cultures. And she’s learning new things with this online job.”
Part of me just wants to tell them I have twenty million sitting in the bank right now, so they back the fuck off. Naturally, I can’t tell them how I earned it.
“Asking your sister to send Marco home is what had us worried,” my father adds. “He’s miserable.”
I roll my eyes knowng that’s far from the truth. “I love you both dearly, but I’m twenty-seven. I don’t need protection. And I don’t need to be scrutinized for my life choices when I only moved out of your home three months ago.”
They’re quiet for a moment before my father dives back into it. “And how many more months do you think you’ll be here?”
I exhale. Once again, I’m ignored. As I’ve always been when I’ve voiced my own wants.
“Papa, enough,” Rya scolds. “She’s not a child, so stop treating her like one.”
I sag into my chair. That alone makes me sound even more like a child. “I need to excuse myself for a moment,” I say, pushing back my chair.
“Honey,” Rya shouts, but I beeline for the bathroom. I’m glad to find I’m the only one in here. I grab both sides of the basin and take a shaky breath. I feel like kicking in every piece of furniture in this room.
I look to my left and see a high window. A small smile creeps on my lips as I think about the time Dawson and I snuck out. I wonder if I could use the same method now. But who would be my booster in the grand escape this time?
The door opens and I quickly turn away from the window as my mother steps in. She looks sympathetic as she holds my shoulders. I exhale, trying to release my anger. I don’t want to direct it at her.
“We don’t mean to be harsh. We just miss you,” she says. I know it comes from a place of love, but it’s suffocating. And I’d once used that word on my mother and she sobbed.
My father loves us all, but even she isn’t the exception to his expectations. Things had to remain in place to uphold the Ricci name.
“I just need you both to give me some space. I came here to find out who I am. I’m glad you’re both visiting, but not if you’re going to lecture me the whole time.”
She nods in understanding. “I’ll speak to your father.”
“Thank you,” I say gratefully.
She offers me a beautiful smile and taps on my shoulder. “He only wants the best for you. You’re our baby.”
I sigh again. “I know.” But, shit, there has to be a line when it comes to coddling your child. But I suppose in the world in which we were born and raised, caution was instilled. Had I been a son, I probably would’ve been taught how to use a gun. But instead, because I was a girl, I was raised to smile and be polite and was taught to defend myself but never leave without my bodyguard so I’d never have to use them. In his opinion, only a man can protect a woman.