Page 29 of Beautiful Desire
“And baseball,” I correct. “But yeah.”
“Did your dad ever go to your games?”
“Not really.” Then, because it doesn’t take a genius to know why she asked, I add, “Or if he did, it was strategic, like when a potential client he was interested in had a kid on the team.”
“That’s wild to me.” Georgia huffs a dry laugh, shaking her head. “In the divorce, why’d you decide to stay with him?” She glances at me, her brow arched. “I know they gave you a choice, so why?”
“Charleston is my home,” I reply slowly. “I had just started high school at the time and all my friends were there. Why would I want to leave?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe to have an actual present parent around?”
“My dad wasn’t some negligent parent, Georgia,” I snap. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and my chest tightens with something I can’t quite place… Defensiveness, maybe. “I had a very good life and got to experience things most teenagers would kill for.”
“You mean, materialistic things, right?” When I don’t answer, she continues. “The Amex black card and the comfy trust fund, the fancy cars, the weekend trips to Miami or the Hamptons, and the promise of a wealthy, highly successful company handed to you on a silver platter by the time you turn twenty-five… Those experiences?”
“Get off your goddamn high horse.” I scoff. “Look me in the eye and tell me any one of those things wouldn’t have excited you as a teenager.”
“Sure, as a teenager, those thingsmayhave interested me,” she says. “But all of those frivolous things aren’t what a teenager needs. They needlove, they need parents who show up for them, teach them how to be a good person, work hard for what they have. The last thing a teenager needs is somebody showing them that if they just come from the right family, they’ll never have to want for a thing.”
My heart is beating so hard, I can feel it in my throat. “Just because our childhoods look different doesn’t mean my dad doesn’t love me or that I don’t understand hard work. You’re right, I’m promised part ownership in his company, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t worked for it. I’ve worked my ass off, Georgia, foryears. I’m not beinghandedanything. I’ve worked for it, just like my father raised me to do.”
Turning my head, I meet her gaze, immediately wishing I hadn’t. The pity looking back at me tells me everything I need to know. It tells me whatever’s about to come out of her mouth is going to piss me off even more.
“I’m sorry,” she says with a sigh, catching me off guard. “All I’m trying to say is, you grew up watching your dad put his career and wealth above you, thinkingthatwas normal. So, yeah, it’s sad that he never took the time to teach his son how to rollerblade, or really let him do anything a kid should do.” Keeping her voice even, she adds, “You grew up receiving mere breadcrumbs disguised as love from your parent. I just…” Georgia shrugs. “I think you deserved more than that. That’s all.”
Who does she think she is?
My pulse is nearly deafening as I swallow, attempting to bring back some of the moisture that left my mouth. How is it possible that this cuts deeper than anything she’s said up until now? It’s like she knows exactly what to say to get under my skin, and I’ve never met somebody like that before.It’s infuriating.
I release a laugh that lacks all humor. “Parents have to work, Georgia. That’s just how it is. Both of your parents have jobs, and if I’m not mistaken, they always have, so be careful throwing stones in a glass house.”
It’s not until we come to a stop in front of Taylor’s Grill that I realize how far we’ve gone. I’ve been so worked up by the shit Georgia’s saying, I didn’t have time to worry about falling or if Iwas doing this right. Going around the side of the restaurant, we find an open table on the back patio that overlooks the beach, and it’s not until we sit down that Georgia responds.
“There’s a very big difference between working hard for your family and straight up putting your career and success before them,” she murmurs, glancing over the menu in front of her. “And you’re right, my parents have always worked, and there were definitely times when they had to miss out on stuff because they couldn’t get the time off, but they were there when it mattered the most.”
Flicking her gaze up to meet mine, she continues. “Fletcher, your father tossed money and expensive things your way to make up for his physicalandemotional absence, and you deserved better. And to be fair, none of that was your fault. You were just a kid who didn’t know any better, but you’re not a kid anymore. Ignorance isn’t cute, and neither is this entitled mentality you have because of him.”
Georgia’s features are relaxed, her eyes soft as they hold mine. Looking at her, digesting what she’s saying, I know she isn’t trying to be cruel. And the worst part is, she’s right. I know she is. My dadwasan absent parent. Despite living in the same house as me, despite feeding me and making sure I had everything I needed materialistically, he wasn’t there like he should have been.
But knowing that doesn’t make me any less pissed off, doesn’t make it sting any less. “So, you think you’re going to be the perfect parent one day? You’ll quit working so much, and never miss a single thing because you’re just so fucking perfect?” I scoff. “You’re not all that different from me, Georgia. You may not have a trust fund, but you’re just as ambitious as I am, just as dedicated to the climb, and you know damn well, you want the success and the money, just like I do. So, get fucked with all that high-and-mighty bullshit. We are not that different.”
A smirk tugs on the corner of her mouth as she sits back in her chair, watching me with an expression I can’t decipher. It almost looks like a mix between smug and…proud. Our server comes over to take our orders before Georgia can say anything, but as soon as he walks away, her attention is back on me.
“You’re right, I am ambitious, hardworking, and career focused,” she quips, the grin on her face growing. “But you know what? If I wanted to have kids, I couldstillbe all of thosewhilebeing a decent parent who taught her kids the important things in life, like empathy, humility, discipline, and the value of a dollar. I could be a strong, successful, goal-driven businesswoman like I am now, and still be present.”
One part sticks out in my mind. “If?”
“What?”
“Do you not want to have kids?”
Shaking her head, she replies, “No, I don’t.”
“Like, you can’t have kids?” The question rolls off my tongue before I even realize it, but that surprises me, for some reason.
Georgia huffs a breath through her nose, gaze hard and narrowed on me. “It’s so funny to me how when a man says he doesn’t want to have kids, that’s the end of it—there’s no question about hisability—but when a woman expresses the exact same thing, it must mean she’s barren. Do you hear the misogyny in that, or do you just not care?”
“What?” Confusion furrows my brow as I replay what I said, but then, a moment later, it clicks. “No, that’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. You seem to like kids, given the way you started rollerblading again for your niece, so it’s notthatfar-fetchedto assume you’d want some of your own one day.”
