Brandon (Anderson Billionaires #3) - Melody Anne Page 0,35
same way her entire life. Her parents expected so much out of her that the smallest mistake made her feel as if she was a total failure. There was no way they could also have that in common.
“Explain,” she finally told him as she picked up her glass and took another sip.
“You know my mom died, and I barely made it through it, but then I met this family I didn’t know I had, and for a long time I told myself I was lied to and unappreciated. I thought even the heavens had it out for me. I loved and still love my brothers, but for a while I even pulled away from them, thinking my whole life had been a lie. Making this long story short, I played the victim. I think I woke up a couple of years ago, realizing that an attitude like that absolutely disgusted me. I was done feeling sorry for myself. It was time for me to start appreciating the good in my life and being thankful for all I have.”
“You have a wonderful family,” Chloe said quietly. She really wanted to reach for him, but she held herself back. “That’s something to truly appreciate. They are so supportive and kind. Why would you think you’d disappoint them?” She couldn’t imagine Joseph looking at any of his relatives with anything other than love.
As much as she loved her own parents, the worst pain they’d inflicted on her was by those disapproving glances they’d sent her way. She wanted them to be proud of her, and it cut her to the core when they weren’t.
“I agree. They are always supportive. I think I was just angry at the world, so I pushed anyone who loved me away. My counselor told me it was because I thought if I let someone else into my heart like I did with my mother, then I risked them dying on me,” he said with a frown before he forced a smile. “I think that’s a load of crap, but I can see where he might have had a small point.”
Chloe couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t believe you’d ever go see a therapist,” she said.
“It was . . . um . . . sort of mandatory,” he said as he shifted in his chair.
Now Chloe was truly fascinated. “I really want to know that story,” she insisted.
He let out a small chuckle as he refilled their glasses again, emptying the bottle. He got up and opened another. She should tell him she’d had enough, but the story had just gotten good, and if she broke the mood, he might stop. She’d just have to try to sip her glass a little less often.
“Fine, I’ll tell you the story, but we have to move to the den, where we can be a little more comfortable,” he offered.
Chloe knew it wasn’t the brightest idea to move to the den—most likely the den of iniquity. But she really did want to hear what he had to say, so she didn’t argue when he grabbed the bottle and his glass and began moving through the house. She scooped up her own glass and followed.
The den was dimly lit, just as he’d wanted, a gas fireplace on high in the center of the back wall, a couch set up the perfect distance away. He moved to it and set the bottle down, then beckoned her. She slowly walked over to him, moving to one end of the couch and hoping he’d stay on the other.
“I was in a pretty bad mood for a . . . let’s just say an extended period of time,” he said after a pause. She wondered what his idea of an extended period was. But she was silent. “A few complaints came in from my employees, and my lawyers told me if I didn’t seek counseling, I was going to get my ass sued off of me. I told them to go to hell, proving their point, and then I reluctantly went. It wasn’t too bad,” he told her with a shrug.
“Did you get sued?” she asked. Her wine was depleting quickly, and she decided it would be safer if she set it on the coffee table, away from her fingers and lips.
Brandon smiled as he slipped across the couch, his leg brushing against hers, taking her breath away. This would be a good time to run and hide, but she was frozen to the spot.