Page 45 of Love by Design (Club Rapture: Risk Aware #1)

“I’m hurt you would say such a thing. I supported you! Wholeheartedly.”

I rolled my eyes, giving a pink-haired hipster a wave of thanks when they dropped my sandwich and a bag of chips in front of me.

“Yes, you did,” I consoled. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know. I know. You’re welcome, Silas.”

Tearing open the wrapping on my sandwich with one hand, I couldn’t help but feel light about the win for the first time since the morning.

I did deserve this. I had worked hard. I always worked hard and would continue to do so.

It wasn’t my fault my dad didn’t see it, and it definitely wasn’t my fault he was too stuck in his ways to understand that architecture and design was a living, breathing industry that would have to change to stay relevant.

“I’m gonna eat,” I told him. “I’ll be home after work.”

“I can’t wait. Now I’m going back to bed.”

Lincoln hung up on me, and I dug into my sandwich.

I’d gotten partway through the first half when the chair across from me pulled out and my dad sank down into the seat.

The bread and meat tangled into a ball and lodged in my throat.

I choked on it, of course, slamming my hand against my chest to force it down into my stomach.

My dad didn’t say anything while I fought through it, only silently sliding my drink closer after I’d managed to get it down.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I knew you’d be here.”

He sounded tired and looked it too. But of course he knew where to find me. I might not be under his thumb anymore, but I was still predictable.

“You ignored my call earlier?”

“I was busy.”

“Celebrating?”

“Working,” I said.

“With Cory Callahan.”

I nodded.

“How did you get that job?” he asked.

“I interviewed for it,” I said.

My dad sighed, tilting his head to the side like he was trying to decide if I was being deliberately obtuse or not. That was me, I wagered, his problem son.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Marshall introduced us,” I muttered.

“Covington?”

“Yeah. ”

“Why would he do that?” my dad asked, brow arched in accusation more than question.

I would have rather talked to him about the win, would have rather listened to him berate my ideas for being too ahead of their time, would have rather done anything than explain to my dad my relationship with his biggest business rival.

“What is your deal with him?” I asked instead, pushing my sandwich toward the middle of the table. I no longer wanted to take Marshall here. I wanted to find a new place to celebrate my wins.

“He’s arrogant.”

“Rightfully so,” I shot back.

“He’s always been entitled. Walking around like he’s a gift to this industry. Even when he was in school, he was a prick about it.”

“He was a prick about being talented?” I furrowed my brow at my dad. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“He’s never had to work hard.”

I wiped my hands off on my napkin, then smoothed it back neatly over my lap. “I find that hard to believe. He’s good at what he does and only part of that comes naturally.”

“And what does he do, Silas?” The accusation was there, right on the tip of his tongue.

“I was talking about work. You know what I meant.”

“You know what I meant,” he said.

Sighing, I stared across the table at my dad, the lines around his eyes and the defeat in his posture.

“This is about more than work, isn’t it?”

“My history with Marshall isn’t your problem.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’ve very much made it my problem.”

“What is your relationship with that man, Silas?”

You don’t have to talk to him at all .

Marshall’s quiet reminder rang loud as a bell in my head, and I grabbed my phone and stood up in one swift motion.

“I’m not doing this with you,” I told him. “Not now and not here.”

“Silas.”

“Not now and not here,” I repeated. “I’m not a child anymore, and I don’t appreciate you treating me like one.

You raised me up to be just like you, but when it was time for me to stand on your shoulders, you shoved me down and kept me there.

You tried to bury me with this grudge you’re carrying, and I won’t have it anymore.

This win could have been yours, could have been ours, but now it’s just mine. ”

It was a weird thing to realize that I’d outgrown my dad.

To see the valley between us as something insurmountable instead of challenging.

He would have been content to hold me back in all things and all ways as long as it suited him, then chide me for not being further along when it didn’t.

There was no winning with him. There wasn’t even any playing the game.

My dad, I realized, was still years in the past, back when I could barely hold a drafting pencil and my mom was still alive.

It was sad, to know he’d turned into something stagnant so long ago, and his roots were too deep and gnarled to untangle.

The fact I’d cut myself free of him was a blessing because there was still time to extract my life from his before he pulled me down into the dirt with him. I wasn’t sure if this was going to be the last time I talked to him, but…it might be, and that was okay.

It was okay.

I picked up the tray of my half-eaten sandwich and carried it to the trash and dumped it. My father didn’t call after me, and he didn’t chase after me. I supposed, in some way, that deserved a celebration too, even if my heart wasn’t ready for that part quite yet.