Page 29 of Worth the Wait (Worth It All #2)

“Lianne coordinated a flawless celebration for five hundred demanding guests, handled complex logistics with grace under pressure, and proved she belongs in any professional environment.” My voice rises with each word, four years of diplomatic silence finally breaking apart.

“She’s built a luxury events company from nothing, earned the respect of every vendor and venue in Los Angeles, created experiences that exceed the expectations of clients who can afford anything.

The only people who’ve questioned her suitability are you and the social circle that values inherited position over actual achievement. ”

My mother’s expression shifts slightly, the first crack in her composed certainty. “We’re simply concerned about your long-term happiness.”

“Then why did you destroy the relationship that makes me happiest?”

“Because some attractions are based on novelty rather than compatibility. Because choosing someone from your own world eliminates complications that can undermine even the strongest feelings.”

“Like the complications you and Dad faced when his family disapproved of your background?”

The comparison stops her cold. For the first time in this conversation, my mother looks genuinely surprised, as if she’d forgotten that her own marriage began with family resistance to a strategic mismatch.

“That was different,” she says finally.

“How was it different? You came from a middle-class family. Dad’s parents thought you were unsuitable.

You had to prove yourself worthy of their acceptance.

” I move closer, needing her to understand the parallel she’s been willfully ignoring.

“The difference is that Dad chose to fight for you instead of letting his family’s disapproval end your relationship. ”

“We were both young. We grew together.”

“Lianne and I are adults who’ve already proven we can build something meaningful together. We don’t need to grow into compatibility—we already have it.”

My mother stands, her composure cracking further as she realizes this conversation isn’t proceeding according to her expectations. “I simply want you to choose someone who makes your life easier rather than more complicated.”

“Easier according to who? According to social expectations I never agreed to? According to strategic advantages that benefit everyone except me?”

“According to reality, Cameron. According to the responsibilities that come with your success and position.”

“I built Sterling Industries myself,” I say, the words carrying four years of suppressed resentment about being treated like a child whose personal choices require parental approval.

“With my own vision, my own work, my own money. I don’t need permission to live my own life or love who I choose to love. ”

“And what about Isabella? She’s a lovely girl who’s made herself available?—”

“Isabella wasn’t making herself available to me romantically, Mother,” I cut her off.

“This was pure business networking for both of us. She needed American fashion industry connections for Vitale Industries’ expansion, and I needed her European contacts for Sterling’s renewable energy partnerships.

We were helping each other navigate business opportunities while satisfying family expectations. ”

The news clearly rocks my mother’s assumptions about tonight’s success. “But she seemed so interested?—”

“She was interested in the business connections, not in me. Just like I was interested in maintaining family peace rather than fighting for what mattered.” I move to the windows, staring out at the Pacific.

“We spent the entire evening playing roles neither of us wanted while you orchestrated what you thought was romantic destiny.”

When I turn back, my mother is sitting again, her composure finally showing cracks that reveal genuine confusion beneath the strategic certainty.

“I don’t understand why you’re making this so difficult,” she says. “There are so many suitable women who would enhance your position?—”

“Because I don’t want suitable,” I interrupt. “I want Lianne. I want the woman who challenges me to be better, who’s built something extraordinary through her own determination, who makes me feel like the best version of myself.”

“And what happens when the novelty wears off? When you realize that love isn’t enough to bridge fundamental differences?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together. Like adults do in healthy relationships.”

My mother stares at me for a long moment, and I can see her recalibrating, trying to find a different approach to the same objective.

“Did you arrange for Isabella to sit next to me tonight?” I ask before she can regroup.

My mother’s eyes shift slightly, the first admission of guilt she’s shown. “I may have suggested to Margaret that the seating arrangements could be adjusted to better accommodate family friends.”

“When?”

“A few days ago. It seemed like such a simple adjustment—just adding Isabella next to you at the head table.”

A few days ago. After I’d already told Lianne about booking the suite for us, after we’d started planning the weekend celebration, after she’d begun to believe this time might be different.

She’s been coordinating this entire event knowing that Isabella would be positioned as my official companion, thinking that I’d specifically requested another woman to sit beside me while expecting her to facilitate our romance from behind the scenes.

“Mother, I need you to leave.”

“Cameron—”

“Now. I need you to leave so I can figure out how to fix what you’ve destroyed.”

My mother moves toward the door, but pauses at the threshold with the kind of expression that suggests she’s not finished with this campaign.

“I hope you won’t do anything rash, darling. Sometimes the heart wants things that aren’t wise for the long-term.”

“I’ll be the judge of what’s wise for my life.”

After she leaves, I sit in the empty suite staring at Lianne’s note, surrounded by evidence of the romantic weekend that will never happen. The champagne that will go flat, the rose petals that will wilt, the Sunday morning plans that will remain unrealized dreams.

Now I understand why she stepped back with such careful dignity.

She thinks I orchestrated tonight’s humiliation—positioned Isabella as my date while expecting her to coordinate our celebration from the sidelines, then planned to use her for a private weekend while maintaining public distance.

She thinks I chose family approval over her again, just like I did four years ago.

But this time is different. Four years ago, I was young enough to believe that disappointing my parents was the worst thing that could happen to me. I let their disapproval override my own feelings because keeping peace felt more important than fighting for love.

Now I know that losing Lianne again would be infinitely worse than any family conflict. Worse than social disapproval, worse than strategic complications, worse than anything my mother’s concerns could create.

I need to prove to Lianne that she’s my choice—not just in private moments, but in every aspect of my life. I need to show her that I’m willing to defend our relationship publicly, to choose her even when it costs me something, to fight for us in ways that leave no doubt about my priorities.

The question is whether she’ll give me the chance to prove it, or if tonight’s devastation has finally convinced her that some distances can’t be bridged by wanting something badly enough.

I pick up my phone to call her again, then stop. She asked for space to think, and after the way tonight unfolded, she deserves that respect. More desperate phone calls won’t convince her that I’m different than I was four years ago.

But I am different. And I’m going to prove it, whether she’s ready to listen or not.