Page 28 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

“We can agree to disagree.” Her smile widens as her eyes drop to her phone again. “What’s the latest I can call you at night, and you’d still pick up?”

“Midnight. Maybe one in the morning.”

“I guess that makes sense with your lifestyle.”

“My lifestyle? Are you implying that I’m out partying every night?”

“Are you?”

“No.” But I can see from the flash in her eyes that she doesn’t believe me.

“Well, the latest you can call me is ten o’clock.”

“Not surprising.”

“Are you implying that I’m boring?”

“Are you boring?”

“No, I just like to get a full night’s sleep.” Jenna’s gaze swings from me to her phone, finding her next question. “How did you decide what you wanted to do for a living?”

“I didn’t decide. I moved to LA when I was eighteen. Worked at a Gold’s Gym until a talent agent approached me and invited me to be in my first movie. Everything just took off from there.”

Her brows pinch. “You didn’t have a plan?”

Yeah, I planned to move as far away as possible from my parents. I was finally an adult, out of their reach, out of their manipulation games, and out of their ability to claim me as a tax dependent. I fulfilled my plan. Everything after that was just gravy, but I don’t tell people that stuff, let alone a woman who hates me.

“Nope, no plan.”

She nods, comparing my answer to the one in her head that I know she’s about to tell me. “Our plan was winning pageants and building a modeling career. When I was eight, I started competing in pageants and did some modeling jobs for local boutiques. By the time I was twelve, I’d done a few campaigns for Gap and Old Navy. But things took off after winning Miss Teen USA and landing my first Coca-Cola commercial. That’s what opened the door for my career. It was everything we’d been working for.”

“We?”

“My mom and me.”

“So being a model was your mom’s dream?”

“No. We both decided on that plan.”

I can’t help my eye roll.

“What?”

“You were eight. You should’ve been playing Barbies, not running around to pageants and modeling calls.”

“I played with Barbies.”

“That’s not the point. Your mom used you to carry out her dreams and live vicariously through your success.” I gesture to her. “You’re lucky you had the genes, and everything worked out. But for most kids, it doesn’t end with a multimillion-dollar modeling career. They’re the pawn in their parents’ games until they don’t benefit them anymore, and they cast them aside.”

Jenna leans her arm against the back of the couch. “Is that what happened to you?”

“No.” I puff out a rough laugh. “We’re talking about you.” But just in case I was projecting my own pathetic story into our conversation, I stand and carry a few cartons of food to the refrigerator so Jenna can’t read the expression on my face.

“Fine. Next question. Tell me about your parents.”

I glance over my shoulder at her. “That’s not on your list.”

“How do you know?”

---