Page 58 of Second Quarter Comeback
“Inappropriate?” I repeated, staring at my reflection like it might back me up.
He sighed—a long, theatrical sigh, the kind that comes with a side of disappointment and a sprinkle of judgment. “You’re working hard. I see that. But do you think it’s sustainable? You’re a doctor. You should focus on that. And maybe, if you spent less time on this . . . side venture, you’d meet someone. Settle down.”
Ah yes, the marriage talk. My favorite.
“Dad,” I said, keeping my voice even, “I’m not running this business to meet someone. It’s important. Women need resources and education about their health. And it’s not a side venture. It’s part of my work.”
Silence. The kind that’s somehow louder than yelling because I’m a total disappointment.
Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “I just want what’s best for you. And this . . . this isn’t it. Not the business. Not that man. And certainly not you being single at this age.”
I yank on a pair of jeans, tightening the belt like it might keep his words from sinking in any deeper. The way he said it made everything I’ve built sound like some phase I’ll grow out of, like my career and my relationship choices are just placeholders until real life starts.
And then there’s Killion.
Dad would never approve of him. A football player? Please. In Dad’s eyes, Killion’s entire existence is a ticking time bomb of instability and public drama. I can already hear Mom’s lectures about how I’d be setting myself up for heartbreak.
But here’s the question I can’t shake: Does it even matter what they think?
I sit on the edge of the bed, slipping on my heels as the thought twists in my gut. Was I wrong to lie to Killion about my parents? Maybe. Probably. But what good would telling him the truth do? All it would do is confirm what he already suspects—that my family doesn’t think he’s good enough. Or maybe that I’m not strong enough to stand by him.
Ben hops onto the bed, staring at me with the judgmental expression only a cat can pull off.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter. “I’m figuring it out.”
He stretches, curling into a smug little ball, clearly unbothered by my existential crisis.
Grabbing my purse, I head for the door. My phone buzzes as I step into the hall. It’s a text from Killion telling me not to dodge the driver.
I stare at the screen, the words digging under my skin like they know too much.
As I step into the elevator, I tell myself this is for the best. One complicated relationship is enough to handle. Adding Killion to the mix? That’s a mess I’m not ready to clean up.
Not yet, anyway.
Slidinginto the sleek black SUV, I’m immediately greeted by the smell of coffee. There’s a to-go cup in the holder and a neatly wrapped pastry on the seat beside me. Typical Killion. He’s infuriatingly thoughtful in ways that make it impossible to stay mad at him. I take a sip of the coffee, and yep—he nailed it. My exact order: a triple-shot, soy vanilla latte, extra hot, with a light dusting of cinnamon on top. How did he remember that?
I hate him a little for knowing me so well. But also . . . I don’t. Deep down, I like that someone thought about me today.
I pull out my phone and dial Karla. She picks up on the second ring, and the sound of madness spills through the line.
“Hold on,” she says quickly. “Eli, put that down. No, we don’t climb the fridge. Yes, Mom’s on the phone with Aunty Cami. One second, Camille.”
There’s a muffled crash, followed by Eli’s unmistakable giggles and Karla’s exasperated sigh. A full minute passes before she comes back on.
“Okay, I’m here,” she says, her breath a little short. “Sorry about that. Eli thinks he’s Spider-Man today.”
“Better than Superman. At least there won’t be any visits to the ER because your child tried to fly.” I laugh, as I break off a piece of the pastry. “So, how’s everything over there?”
“Loud,” she says with a laugh. “But what else is new? What’s up? You don’t usually call this early.”
I hesitate, twirling the coffee stirrer between my fingers. “I talked to Mom and Dad last night.”
Karla groans softly. “Oh, that explains why Mom texted me this morning saying you’re not ‘making good choices.’ What happened this time?”
“It was about my business and Killion,” I admit, leaning back against the seat. “Dad’s upset—they apparently threatened him back when we were dating and now he’s ready to fulfill some grand threat. And he made it sound like my business is just a temporary distraction from being single. He doesn’t think it’s real. And Mom?—”
“Let me guess,” Karla interrupts. “Mom brought up grandchildren?”
