Page 78 of Wildly Inappropriate

“Don’t you blame this all on me,” my father cuts in. “I’m not the one who spent millions of dollars we don’t have renovating a house we are already underwater on. I’m not the one who invested in her friend’s fashion line that folded within two months. I’m not the one who—”

“Enough,” I say, loudly enough to cut him off. “How could you possibly be broke?”

“Bad investments,” my mom says, glaring at my father.

“Extravagant spending,” my dad shoots back.

“Okay.” I wish I had my hat on right now. I’m not sure what to do with my hands. How the fuck could they lose all their money? How is it even possible that I’m standing here in a black tie having a conversation about not being able to pay workers who havealready completed the work? I’m so mad, I can barely think straight, but, as I look into my mom’s tear-streaked face, watching the mascara flow over her scar, I know I’m going to help them out of this mess, in whatever way I need to.

“What about my money?” I ask.

“It’s there,” my dad says.

My mom glares at him. “Tell him the truth.”

“Itisthere.”

“The real truth.”

My dad sighs, looking anywhere but at me. “Well, anything that was tied up in longer-term investments is there. Your pain-in-the-ass PA has called me about seven times this month about the losses in your portfolio. We’ve had a couple of large business loans come due this year, and I’ve needed some cash freed up to pay them. I’ve been borrowing money from your accounts to keep us afloat for a few months now, but it’s no longer enough.”

“A few months?!” I roar. This isn’t some bad luck, poor timing, type of thing. They’ve known about this. They decided to renovate their house knowing they didn’t have the money to do it.

“Shhh,” my mother shushes me, and beneath my anger, I feel guilty. How had I become so distracted that I didn’t even notice the funds missing from my account or my parents losing all their money?

“We understand this isn’t ideal, but we’ve always been a team. Seven million dollars will cover the repairs as well as the business loans that are due. If you win this tournament, you’ll take home close to ten after taxes. We gave up our dreams, ones that would’ve earned us far more money than where we are now, to help you chase yours,” my father says, his voice defiant. “I’m sure you understand how hard it is to maintain our lifestyle on the pennies we make managing your money.”

“Live a less extravagant lifestyle,” I suggest.

“And have everyone think we’re poor wealth managers?” my mom asks.

“Youarepoor wealth managers,” I hiss.

My dad holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “We’re wealth managers because we had no other options after I gave up my pursuit of professional golfing to give that dream to you. Managing our child’s money was the only option we had. Did you want your mom to continue working the night shift, cleaning offices her entire life? Please, JT. The earnings from this tournament will more than cover our debt. One win and we can all forget this ever happened. Let’s just focus on your game.”

Inside, we hear the sound of people being called to their seats, and before I can respond, the doors open, a waiter stepping out to ask us to find our table.

I’m in a fog as I introduce my parents to Lila and Bryn and as I listen to Conrad Ferguson talk about his firm’s work. My mom keeps shooting me concerned glances, all of which I ignore. My father, on the other hand, is using his proximity to Jameson to pitch their wealth management services. I want to yell, to tell Jameo to run away fast, but instead, I sit there in silence, unable to comprehend how it came to this. As mad as I am, all I can think about is how much I owe my parents and how I’ll do whatever it takes to help them out, just like they did when I was trying to become a professional golfer.

As the speaking portion of the event comes to an end, I clap along with the rest of the guests, trying to clear my head. “I should head out,” I say, forcing cheer into my voice. I turn to look down at Lila. Her smiling face makes my guts twist uncomfortably, the sight of it reminding me of how selfish I’ve been, focusing on my enjoyment instead of winning like my parents asked.

“You should stay here and have fun,” I tell her. “Don’t let me ruin your night.”

“Don’t be silly,” she says. “Of course I’m coming with you.”

I nod, offering a quick goodbye to the table before making my way toward the door. Lila trails after me, blessedly silent, before climbing into the car waiting for us at the hotel entrance.

Lila tries to say something to me once we’re slowly creeping down the Strip to our hotel, but I’m spiraling, unable to stop the memories of the tears running down my mother’s face, the sound of my father’s voice telling me their money is gone, following their dreams into a world where they can never return. The guilt of my parents’ sacrifice smothers me, overshadowing everything.

I have to win tomorrow.

Chapter thirty-seven

Lila

“The weather is goingto be great for your round today,” I say the next morning, looking at my weather app to see what the weather will be like when he tees off at 1:13 p.m. today.

JT grunts a response yet again, and as sad as his lack of conversation makes me, I’m not surprised. JT was a zombie last night, all one-word answers and head nods. As he turned his back to me, curled up on his side, and went to sleep, I’d wanted to lash out, to demand his attention, but I knew I couldn’t. Because I knew his secret, even if he didn’t trust me enough to tell me himself.

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