Chapter 5

Kayla

A shadow looms over me as I read over the text Liam just sent me.

I'm heading your way for lunch.

I smile at the carnival advertisement he wrote on, tacked up in my cubicle at my dad's firm. Sitting here wearing business casual while waiting for my next assignment isn't how I wanted to spend my summer, and God forbid I have any time to myself. I might start thinking too much.

The shadow doesn't pass by, but instead clears its throat.

I slide my phone under a pile of papers I'm supposed to proofread and turn to face my father. With a deeper scowl than usual on his face, he reaches over and pulls the carnival ad down, crumpling it in his hand.

"Walk with me," he orders. He'd never make a scene with the other lackeys looking on. Once we get in his office, though…

Instead, he heads toward the elevators. Once the doors close us in, he shakes the wadded paper at me. "You're not going to have time for this sort of thing. If you're bored, there are the club socials every weekend. Benjamin's son Brent will be home for the summer soon. He'd be happy to—"

"I'm not interested in Brent like that. We've never even been close friends," I say, cutting him off at the pass. The idea of my dad playing matchmaker is ludicrous and he's never tried it before. "Why do you care so much about my social life all of a sudden?"

He makes a sour face. "I saw the way that young man at the garage was looking at you." He raises the crumpled ad again. "He clearly doesn't know his place, and I don't want loneliness to cloud your judgment."

My face burns with shame. Has the elevator always been this slow? "There's nothing wrong with Liam or the way he lives," I say.

"It's not the way we live, though."

Normally I would clam up. Agree with my silence. But I don't want to be silent anymore. Giving up the bakery job was the first bit of ice loosening in the mountain of my regrets. If Dad straight up tells me I can't see Liam, it's going to start an avalanche. I don't want total destruction, just happiness. To live my life the way I want, the way Liam urged me to the other day.

"What if I wanted to live differently?" I ask. "You know I've always been good at baking…"

"That's a fine skill to have. Great for entertaining. But you're not suggesting you waste the degree you've been working toward?"

"The degree doesn't have to go to waste."

The doors slide open and he steps out, shaking his head. "How ridiculous. A successful firm is waiting to hire you full time when you graduate." He waves his hand at the sign on the wall. Woods and Burleson Investments. "One day it will be you and Brent running things, when Benjamin and I retire."

"I'm proud of your success here, Dad, but it's not what I want. I'd like to get an apprenticeship at a baker's and eventually open my own shop. I can use what I've learned so far to start my own business."

He stops, and his angry face softens a bit, to a look of pity. "You have no idea what it's like out there for people like that tow truck driver," he says. "Your mother and I made sure you'd never have to. Whatever romantic notions you have about going your own way will grow tedious before you know it." His stern scowl returns. "And you may not be able to find your way back to the good life."

"What do you mean by that?" I'm astounded at his underlying threat.

He looks over my shoulder, he eyes going blank with seething rage. When I turn to see what has him so upset, I see Liam standing in the lobby, a few feet away from us. He smiles and waves, but doesn't step forward because my dad grips my arm, leaning close.

"It means you'll continue on the path you've always been on. That means having dinner at the club with Brent. It means finishing school and signing on here to learn to take over one day."

"What if that's not what I really want?" I ask, his fingers digging painfully into my arm.

"Then you won't see another dime from me," he hisses, letting go. He straightens his tie and checks his phone. "I expect those reports on my desk when I return from lunch."

I stand there, shaking, as he strides past Liam without a glance. Liam hurries toward me and puts his arm around me just as I stumble forward in disbelief. Would my father really cut me off for choosing my dreams? I feel tears welling up and don't want Liam to notice, but he already has, gently swiping his fingers across my cheeks.

"Come with me," he says, leading me out of the lobby.

The sunshine feels good after the intense AC in the office. Liam's hand on my back feels even better as he guides me toward the park.

"I have a bunch of work to do," I say.

"It's lunch time," he answers. "Even for interns." He looks down at me with a wry grin. "In other words, to hell with your father."

"So you overheard?"

"I got the jist, yeah."

We pass an ice cream stand and he stops, fishing coins from his pocket. I point to strawberry in silence and he orders. I'm anxious about the unfinished work, but as soon as he places the cone in my hand with his crooked smile, I can't refuse. I won't refuse this small respite from the fake life I'm forced to lead.

We sit on a park bench, watching the ducks in the lake, and he puts his arm around me while I lick the sweet ice cream and feel better by the second. I let out a small laugh.

"What?" he asks.

"You treat me like a little princess," I say, holding up the remains of my cone. "Ice cream really makes everything all better."

"Only ice cream?" He raises a brow and I impulsively lean over and kiss him, a quick peck on the mouth.

It still makes my heart race and I shyly look away. "Not just the ice cream," I say, then look back at him. "I had a huge crush on you when I was a freshman," I say.

His eyes pop. "You did? I thought you were the prettiest girl in school."

I pretend to glare. "Then why didn't you say something then?"

"You were a freshman," he laughs, then grows serious. "And I wasn't good enough for you."

My fists clench. "Don't ever say that. I'm not better than anyone."

"You're per—"

I shut him down quick. "Don't say that, either. Do you know how exhausting it is to always have to meet impossible standards? When I say your life is amazing, I'm not being polite or patronizing. All I want is to have a little bakery, a cozy house. Maybe a garden, maybe some kids." I stop out of embarrassment. "Instead, I'm getting shoved toward a mansion full of empty bedrooms, a kitchen I won't have time to use, and a workaholic husband I don't love."

"Not on my watch," he says. He must be joking, but his eyes are dead serious as he takes my hand. "I had it the opposite. Instead of high standards, I had no standards. My dad was sick from liver failure. He essentially drank himself to death. I loved him, because he did his best, but his best sucked. I don't think he ever got over my mom dying when I was a baby."

"I wished I could have been there for you," I say. "Even just as a friend."

"I could have never been your friend, not with the mess I was surrounded by. I would have died if you'd seen how I lived."

"But you turned everything around," I say. "You make me think anything's possible."

"Anything is possible, Kayla. Remember that."

He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, then turns it to kiss my palm. The feel of his lips pressed against my skin sends fireworks through my bloodstream and I scoot closer to him on the bench.

"This is really nice," I say, tilting my face toward the sunshine. "I don't want to go back to that arctic office."

"How much trouble will you be in if you don't go back?" he asks.

"A lot," I groan.

His grin is mischievous, infectious, lighting me on fire even more than his kisses. "Okay, but how much do you care?"

"Right now?" I ask.

He nods. "Right now."

"Not even a little bit."

The grin grows wider and he taps me on my nose. "That's my girl. Now let me show you how the other half lives."