Page 291 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“That’s one possibility,” Lennox says.
Something about the tone of his voice sets me on edge. It’s kind and gentle—almost too gentle, like he’s placating me. I glare at him. “What are you trying to say?”
“Tatum, it wouldn’t be the first time a chef has claimed a recipe or an idea that isn’t actually theirs.”
I stand up, dropping the notebook onto the couch and stalking into the kitchen. “No.” I turn around, my hands on my hips. “No. My mom was more French than my dad is, but his grandmother was from Nice. He has just as much right to the recipes in those pages as she did.”
I don’t really know why I’m arguing the point, except that somehow, it feels like admitting that Dad’s career is a sham would, by extension, makemea sham.
After all, I am only as good as Dad has made me.
Lennox holds up his hands. “I’m just saying. It seems like there’s a pattern here. You, yourself, said you thought your dad would choose fame over family. He did it with your mom, and took her recipes with him—”
“You don’t know that’s what he did,” I say, my voice trembling.
“And now he’s willing to do it with you—forcing you into a job you don’t want so you can keep his star shining a little longer.”
I shake my head. “You can’t say that. You don’t even know him.”
He leans forward, his elbows propped on his knees. “You’re right. I don’t. But you do.”
Tears well in my eyes, his words hitting me like a punch to the gut. “You know what? I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Tatum—”
“No. I don’t need you sitting there judging him. Judgingme.He’s my family, Lennox, and I’m all he has left. It’s easy for you—with your picture-perfect family and your passion-filled career. But you don’t know him. Maybe you don’t even know me. For all you know, Idowant the job in L.A.”
These last words come out like a curse, and Lennox flinches.
Toby hops off my reading chair where he’s been lounging this whole time and walks to Lennox, dropping his head on Lennox’s knee.
I don’t miss that even though we’re both clearly upset, Toby doesn’t come tome.
It only makes me angrier.
I’m self-aware enough to sense that I’m overreacting, that I’mreallynot being fair to Lennox, but the confusion churninginside me is so sharp, so palpable, it’s blinding me to everything else.
Lennox closes his eyes and rubs Toby’s head for a moment before slowly getting up. He crosses to where I’m standing in the kitchen, pausing just in front of me. His hands are on his hips as his chest rises and falls with one, then two steady breaths.
“Tatum,” he says gently, and he reaches for my hand.
I take it and let him pull me against him. He wraps his arms around my back, and I collapse into his chest, tears pouring down my face.
He holds me while I cry, one hand rubbing up and down my back until the sobs subside. “I do know you, Tatum.” He leans down and kisses my temple. “I know you”—he tenses the slightest bit, his hands tightening their grip around my waist—“and I love you.”
I suck in a breath, Lennox’s words echoing in my mind.He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
“That meansallI want is for you to be happy. If you tell me you want to go to L.A.—that doing the show with your dad will make you happy—I’ll believe you, and I’ll let you go.” He sniffs and he lets out a frustrated groan. “It would kill me. But I would do it. I wouldn’t ask you to trade your happiness for mine.”
He leans back, his arms moving from the small of my back to my shoulders. He lifts a hand to my cheek, wiping the tears away before cupping my cheek and kissing me. “I’m going to go,” he says.
I nod, my eyes on the floor. If I look into those green eyes, shining with unshed tears for more than a second, I’m going to start to ugly cry even worse than I already am.
He steps away and picks up his bag, pausing when he reaches the door. “Tatum, I think I need to keep my distance for a bit.”
