Page 39 of The Other Side of Paradise (Story of Paradise #2)

“I know you probably don’t,” I said, my voice tight. “But I meant what I said, and I can’t… it’d be disingenuous to take it back if I still feel that way.”

He tightened his expression. “Your mother put a lot of work into this vacation. I know you don’t always see that, because you want to play around—”

“I had an internship. You took it away from me. I’m not trying to play around—”

“I’m talking, Stella.”

“And making me out to be someone I’m not.

” I drew myself tighter. “This is what I’m mad about.

What Ryan is mad about. You treat us like you have some model in your head of who we’re supposed to be, like—like someone you decided when we were ten or twelve what we’d probably be, or maybe earlier—and you’re treating us like that, like—”

“Stella,” he said, and the quiet intensity of it made my words catch in my throat, stopping. “This is a matter of basic respect. For your mother, who worked hard on this, and for all of us who help make a very comfortable life possible for you.”

My chest tightened, and I felt a prickle in my face, and I wanted desperately to back down like I always did, but—but shit, I was going to tell Allison about this interaction later. And I guess I wanted her to be proud of me. How silly. “You always told us respect isn’t given, it’s earned. ”

He tightened his grip on the cup. He didn’t look angry, though, more like… like he was the one nervous in this conversation. It made something in me start, turning anxiously. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with describing everything your family has done for you—”

“And I’m grateful for it,” I said, raising my voice over his. “But putting in effort doesn’t mean anything other than that you put in effort. There’s a lot of people out there who work their asses off and make a lot of money. I don’t respect all of them. Do you respect all of them?”

He was quiet for a second before he said, “It’s your own family, Stella.”

“Respect isn’t given. Not even for that.

” I sighed, dropping my shoulders. I should have been terrified right now, sick with nerves.

I wasn’t. Something about being on the other side, having pushed through the worst of it.

Eye of the storm, I guess. “The things I respect aren’t working a lot and making a lot of money.

It’s… you know, human decency. Being understanding and loving of one another and communicating when things are difficult and trying to be better even when things are hard. ”

“You were just complaining that you aren’t respected even though you’re our daughter, and now you’re saying you don’t have any obligation to respect your own parents. Communication is a two-way street, Stella.”

I clenched my fists, squeezing hard on the cup and feeling its heat helping ground me.

“Then what do you want?” I said, voice shaky.

“I’ve never felt like you see me. You want to be proud of me, and believe me, I want my parents to be proud of me too.

But it feels like I can never figure out what you want from me because you don’t know what you want from me. ”

“You don’t know anything—nothing—about what it’s like to raise children.”

“Am I wrong? Because if you do know what it is you want—what it is I could do that would make you proud of me and treat me like an equal—then please tell me. I would love to be wrong.”

He drew a long breath, trying not to let the quiver in it show, but it was hard not to see it, not in my own father. “I want the same damn thing every parent wants,” he said. “I want you to be successful and happy and healthy. And I feel like you don’t care about everything we all do for that.”

“And you want to do that by taking me away from something I wanted so much and worked so hard for?” I said, voice thick.

“The internship wasn’t a good use of your time, anyway. I know you don’t know a lot yet about this kind of business—”

“The internship was a good use of my time because it was something I cared about,” I said thickly.

“You’re trying to tell me I have to take the family handouts like cushy jobs and expensive vacations, that I have no choice, and then you’ll tell me to be grateful for it?

That’s not a gift—not something to be grateful for.

That’s paying me off for my obedience. But I don’t want to be obedient, I want to be me. ”

“Stella—”

“I’m not sad I came here,” I said, and he stopped in surprise, a confused look my way.

“I resent that I was forced into it, but in the end I’m not sad I came here.

I’ve gotten closer with Ryan. And I’ve made some really…

really good friends here. I’ve had a really good time.

But only with the parts where I’ve been able to break away and do my own thing.

I don’t want money and vacations and gifts, Dad.

I want to be my own person. And to have you see that. ”

He pursed his lips, the muscles tight on his neck, and after a long silence, he said, “I don’t care what you think of me, but I hate to see you ignore everything your mother’s done for you.”

I closed my eyes, drinking my coffee slowly. “If you’re not going to see eye to eye with me, then I think we’ve said all we can. I’ve said what I need to.”

“Stella, it’s—”

“I told you what I need. In the end, you can either… engage with that, or you can not. If respect is what you’re after, you have to know that’s not something you can buy with a company card.

” I stepped back, drawing my posture up taller.

“I’m not going to brunch. But please don’t worry about me.

I’m very well taken care of here. I’ve met someone who’s made my stay here really special.

It’s up to you and Mom to decide if they’re the only person who gets to see me here. ”

“Your whole family is here, and you want me and your mother to be the ones to make all the effort—”

“It’s because you two are the only ones who can, ” I shot, my voice thick.

“I don’t trust anybody else to actually listen.

I’m not telling you all this to punish you, Dad, I’m telling you this because I care enough to try making things better between us.

That’s why.” I stepped back, turning away, my chest achingly tight, and I walked back towards the stairs, heart pounding as I did.

“I’ll see you later. Tomorrow, maybe. I don’t know.

Whenever we’re going to try and make this right. ”

“Stella, wait,” he called, frustration thick in his voice, and I marched off, tears prickling at my eyes.

Should have been déjà vu after the last conversation with my dad, but this felt different, like—like last time I’d been storming out in frustration, anger.

And like this time, I was just so tired—tired of caring, of putting my heart out there only for everybody else to take turns stepping on it.

Except for Allison. Allison and the others…

I pulled up my phone as I walked down the stairs, a prickle of relieving warmth in my chest. Brooklyn had sent a message with an address.

I hoped she was right that I could just show up. I needed a hug from Allison specifically right now.