Page 32 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
The kind that presses down like a thick, suffocating fog.
I clean my mouth with a napkin, lean back, and scan the faces around the table. Everyone is watching. Waiting.
“I thought we talked about this already. Why are you bringing it up again?”
Mom straightens, meets my eyes, her expression calm but firm. “Because it’s time, Whitney.”
“I told you,” I say, my voice measured, “I have no interest in joining the family business. And if…,” I lift a hand, emphasizing my point, “if I do consider it, it won’t be now. I have something I’m doing. I have a job, a career.”
“As for moving back home,” I finish, pushing my plate slightly away, “my answer is no.”
More silence.
Dad sighs heavily and turns to Claire. "Take the kids upstairs."
Claire hesitates, glancing between us, before nodding. She gathers the kids, murmuring something to them, and leads them away.
The moment the kids are out of sight, Dad turns back to me.
“Darling,” he begins, his tone gentle. “You know I’ve always supported you. I always will.”
I nod, bracing myself for the ‘but’.
“I admire your passion, your drive. But it’s time to stop playing around and focus on something tangible.”
I take a deep breath, biting back the urge to snap. "Playing around? Dad, I really wish you, of all people, would not say that."
I let the words hang in the air for a moment, then continue, softer but no less serious.
"Look, I know it’s hard to see. I know it’s easy to think this whole social media thing is just…well, a hobby. But it’s not. It is a career. A real one. People make actual money, real connections, and build businesses that change their lives." I lean forward, my fingers tapping lightly on the table, trying to make him…, them understand.
"These viral videos you see? The ones people share millions of times? That’s how it works now, Dad. That’s where the world is headed. People create content for a living. It's hard work - harder than you think - and it is a full-time job. No one just ‘plays around’ with this."
I let out a breath, trying to ease the tension. "You say it’s not tangible, but it is. Brands, partnerships, collaborations - they’re all real, and they all pay.” I gesture toward my laptop. “That’s the kind of job I do. I work with brands. I have a community. This is work. Just because it’s not a nine-to-five doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
“You don’t have to get it, but this is my business. And I’m doing it, every day, with everything I have." I lean back, crossing my arms. "So no, Dad. I’m not playing. This is my job. And if you could just take a minute to understand that, maybe we could get somewhere."
Dad exhales softly, rubbing his temples. “We’re just looking out for you, darling. We don’t want you to miss out on something that could provide more stability.”
“But I am stable.”
The room is heavy with silence, but it’s not the kind of quiet that soothes - it presses in, suffocating, until I can’t take it anymore.
“I don’t get it,” I finally say, my voice a mix of frustration and something that feels a little too close to hurt. “Why are you guys acting like my life is some kind of mistake? You’re all sitting there, talking about ‘stability’ but none of you are seeing the bigger picture. This isn’t just a job to me—it’s my career. It’s my future.”
“Oh, please, Whitney,” Ed sighs, stirring his coffee like this conversation is exhausting him. “You are being stubborn again. What about the future? When you can’t do this anymore? What’s your plan then?”
I arch a brow. “And what makes you think I don’t have a plan?” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “You think I just wake up every morning, post a few cute pictures, and hope for the best?” I shake my head with a short laugh. “Newsflash, big bro, and family - I run a business. A brand. I have contracts, collaborations, and long-term deals.”
“And” I continue, “If it doesn’t work, I will adapt. That’s what I do, I figure it out. Just like everyone else does in their lives. In their careers. Just like you would if something in your field changed.”
Janet makes a noise of disapproval, setting her fork down a little too hard.
“No? Okay, so tell me,” I say, tilting my head. “What job is guaranteed to last forever? Because last I checked, industries evolve. People get laid off. Companies shut down.” I gesture toward Rosa. “What about you? If your job suddenly became obsolete, would you just curl up and give up? No, you’d pivot. You’d figure it out. Just like I would.”
I turn to my dad who is deep in thought. “Dad, please…”
“Your mom is right, Whitney. Come home, be part of this family again. It’s not about you working in the office, Whitney. It’s about being close to us, where we can keep our eyes on you.”
