Page 52 of Falling for You

My parents wanted me to be a certain way growing up, and at first, all I wanted to do was make them happy. I thought they knew what was best, and I agreed with them until I heard my father on the phone when I was around eight years old.

“I won’t go below $100,000 for Penelope’s hand in marriage, Andrews. She’s going to go to law school; she’s taking dance and ballet, and she's already at the top of her classes. Every socialite mother will want her as a daughter-in-law.”

His words still echo in my mind, which may be why I won’t fully give myself to Taylor.

He’s a famous hockey player, and women line up just to speak to him, wanting to hang off his arm but I don’t want to be someone’s arm candy. I want to be someone’s everything. I don’t want to feel like I have to be someone I’m not just to keep them happy. This scares me because if I’m not matching up to who he thinks I should be, I may revert into the person he wants, the person my parents wanted me to be. That is someone I tried my hardest not to become because I wasn’t happy being her.

For years, my parents pushed me. I had to wear frilly dresses and attend dinners with adults leering at me to see if I was good enough for their son. I was forced into dance classes and ballet despite having two left feet and had to attend the top schools with kids who bullied me until I hit high school and fought back.

They took my things away if I strayed from their perfect daughter, and I don’t just mean my phone or any electronics. I mean my casual clothes, left with only ones my mother deemed fit, ones I hated. I’d only have a bed in my room and couldn’t eat what I wanted. I mean, I never even had a phone until I saved up to buy an old one from the second-hand store because I wasn’t deemed worthy of technology. I didn’t ‘do as I was told’ so I couldn’t have luxuries like my sister.

They fawned over her and she relished it while I sat on the sidelines.

I chew my bottom lip as I look over the house before taking a deep breath and climbing the stairs. When I reach the large white door, I don’t knock, instead, I walk in and head to the living area. When I find it empty, I sigh and walk down the hallway towards the large white door of my dad’s office—the same door I stood behind, hearing his lovely conversation about selling me.

I know he’s home. I called the office, and his secretary said he was working from home today because mom’s decided to go to the office.

He’s never been able to work with Mom nearby and I really don’t need to know why.

I knock on the door and wait as my nerves pick up.

“Yes,” my father answers, and I take a deep breath before walking into his office.

The walls are dark green, and the furniture is dark brown. His left window covers the whole wall bringing in natural light. This is the one room in the house my mother had no say in.

“Hey, Dad,” I say when he doesn’t look up and walk further into his office.

He looks at me but doesn’t seem surprised that I’m here. In fact, he looks resolved when he notices I don’t have Hudson.

He’s with my sister at Tony’s place. I didn’t want him here for this because, honestly, I didn’t know how I was going to react.

I know I won’t shout or scream. I’m just going to open up about what is on my mind and hope he can make some sense for me because honestly I have let go of the past. Deep down I know I have, but something is still holding me back from Taylor and I think my dad can help.

Dad sighs and says, “Let’s sit on the couch." He nods to the dark brown leather couch in front of the window, and I walk over to it as he stands up and follows me.

I don’t look at him as he sits, instead, I look at my lap and twiddle my fingers.

A part of me, a big part, has forgiven my dad, and that is mainly because of how amazing he has been with Hudson. My mom, well, I was never close to her to begin with, not after Avery was born and tried to do the whole three-way matching awful outfits thing. And especially not after I overheard my dad’s conversation.

I wasn’t willing to be her doll, so she kind of just disregarded me, I guess. I love her, don’t get me wrong, and I know she loves me, but we’re just not close. Growing up, I saw myself as a daddy’s girl until I overheard his phone call, and I realized I meant nothing to him. Or rather, didn’t mean as much as I thought anyway.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d want to have this conversation,” he starts when I don’t say anything. “I’ve dreaded it,” he continues, “but I also know it’s something that is needed and not to be brushed underneath the rug.”

“Mom would never have a rug in her home,” I mutter, and he snorts, knowing it’s true.

“Your mother definitely has different tastes to mine, that is for sure,” he admits.

I smile a little as my eyes go to his bookshelf, which has several photos of my sister and me growing up, including some of my son. My mother would die if they were placed on the mantelpiece in the living area, disrupting her lovely designer scene.

I think there are three: one of her and Dad on their wedding day, one of me and my sister three days after she was born, and another of all of us. All of these pictures were taken by professionals, whereas the ones Dad has are random pictures taken by cell phones. He has over twenty, showing his love for his family, love I never got to experience growing up.

“I’ve fallen in love with him,” I admit quietly, unsure how to start our conversation.

Dad hums and replies, “I think you fell in love with him the night you met him, Pen,” and I look at him. He gives me a sad smile and admits, “Before you met Taylor, you were our normal, refusing to bend to our will Penelope while working your butt off in school,” I smile a little, “But after you met him, you changed. You were more withdrawn and lost, and it was like you weremissing something. I just didn’t realize what until you said you were pregnant.”

My eyes tear up as I look at the photos again, and I whisper, “He wants me to meet his family tonight at the game.”

Dad hums again and confirms, “But you’re refusing, holding him at arm’s length.”

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