Page 29 of Desirous

My roommate shakes her head and smiles. “Honey, you’ve known Alex March for ages. That first night when you and your parents went to CK and he came out to the table after your father asked to talk to the chef you came back here and he was all you could talk about. I think a lot of what’s going on with all this crying has to do with being thrown off the show and you blaming him because what he did only reinforces the idea you had about him from that first night—that he’s one of those people who always get the applause while you get to toil outside the limelight.”

I stare at her in disbelief even as I have to accept she’s probably right. “That sounds pretty screwed up. You really must think I’m a headcase.”

With a big smile, she says, “I told you. I’m not the only one with daddy issues.”

And right there in my tiny bedroom in the average apartment I share with my best friend, it all becomes clear. “This isn’t all about Alex. This is about my father too. Jesus, I am a fucking mess.”

“Of course it is! How could it not be? You do the same job as your father has all his adult life, and all you’ve ever wanted was his approval. Then he goes and gives it to a man who is just like him. I mean, look at the two of them. Both are charming, both get kudos for their work, and both have no idea how easy their lives have been compared to yours. And you know what the worst part of all of this is?”

Oh, God. There’s an even worse part than my being an emotional mess with daddy issues?

“No.”

“I doubt either one of them have a clue how much just being themselves makes you feel like you’re nothing special.”

And that is worse.

Feeling like total shit, I collapse back onto the bed and pull the pillow over my head. “I think I’m going to spend the rest of my life here. Make sure to tell anyone who comes to see me that it’s all over. I’ll be staying in bed until I shake off this mortal coil.”

“Oh, more Shakespeare! That must mean you’re feeling a little better already.”

“No, I’m not,” I answer into the pillow.

“Well, you will. As soon as your parents leave after their visit.”

And the hits just keep on coming.

I toss away the pillow and look over at Sadie as she nods in sympathy for me. “In all of this craziness, I forgot about my mother and father coming here tomorrow. She said she wanted to make reservations at CK, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to get out of going to dinner with them. God, I hope he isn’t there then. I just want to forget about Alex March. Is it too much to ask for this one good thing to happen to me? Maybe if I ask my mother to make the reservations as early as possible I can escape running into him because he’ll still be at the studio with the show.”

As she stands up from the bed, Sadie chuckles. “That’s the spirit! Avoidance. I’m going to get something to eat since all this talk of restaurants and chefs has made me hungry. You want anything, or are you keeping with your plan to stay in bed?”

“No, I’m not hungry, but for future reference, I’d like to point out that staying in bed is not synonymous with a hunger strike. Food can be brought in here.”

Sadie walks out of my bedroom, calling back as she heads toward the kitchen, “I’ll keep that in mind!”

I take a deep breath and let our conversation rattle around in my head. I definitely have daddy issues, but I didn’t realize they were so deep with my father and Alex so interconnected in my mind. Sadie’s right about that.

But what do I do now that I know? Or is it too late? Have I pushed him away too many times for us to have any chance at all?

A noiseout in the living room rouses me from my sleep, and I grab my phone off the nightstand to see the time. 8:55. Sadie should be at work by now, so who’s making the racket?

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumble out into the hallway and instantly know my parents have arrived by the scentof my mother’s Chanel perfume wafting through the air. Why didn’t she mention they were getting a flight out at the crack of dawn today?

Quickly, I run my hands through my mess of hair and glance down my body to make sure I look presentable. Well, not presentable but at least clothed. My mother will no doubt be appalled by my appearance since she’s never looked disheveled a day in her life.

With all my body parts covered, I paste a smile onto my face and walk into the living room. My mother takes one look at me, and her eyes nearly bug out of her head.

“Oh, Katerina. Did we wake you?” she asks, likely hoping to God I don’t look like this at any other time than when I’m sleeping.

“It’s okay, Mom. I would have been up and waiting for you, but you didn’t say you were getting here so early.”

She opens her arms wide, showing off her thin frame clothed in a navy-blue designer dress under her white sweater. “Give me a hug. It’s so good to see you, honey.”

My nose fills with her perfume as she hugs me to her, and the delicate scent brings back memories of all the good times we’ve had together. “It’s good to see you too, Mom.”

I step back and turn to look at my father. “It’s good to see you too, Dad.”

Dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a teal blue button-down shirt that accentuates his dark hair and green eyes, my father relaxes on the couch with his arms spread wide on the back of the cushion. He looks utterly confident, like always, and even though he likely wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this if I didn’t live here, Andrew Truesdale looks like he’s a king on his throne ruling over his kingdom.

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