narrow minds in charge. I busted my ass for this job, and I’m done settling for less.
That reminds me of something Landon said to me. As the elevator doors slide shut, I let my mind latch onto the memory. An eye roll accompanies my trek down the reminiscing spiral. Of course, he barges into my thoughts at a moment like this. Even without being physically present, he dominates the space and demands to be seen. Damn, that guy is such an arrogant jerk.
But maybe Landon meant well by trying to steal me from Vince. I shrug the concept off my straight shoulders. It will remain a mystery.
I drive on autopilot to the place I’ll always be accepted, regardless of my career choices. Sometimes, even as an adult, a girl just needs her mom. There’s a daze stealing my clarity as I climb the porch steps. Mother’s intuition swoops in to rescue me. I don’t even need to ring the bell.
Mama Simons opens the door with open arms waiting. “Who dared to hurt my baby?”
“That’s a loaded question, Mom.” I giggle while she envelops me in a toasty hug. Memories of warm apple pie and carefree afternoons in the sunshine embrace me as she rocks back and forth.
“Well, come on in and let’s chat all about it.” She guides me into the kitchen with an arm looped around my waist.
“Thanks for being home whenever I decide to drop by unannounced.” I lean into her comforting support.
She hums and pecks my temple. “The role of a parent never ends, and I’m not the only one you can rely on.”
With that cue, my father strides into the room. The pressure that had dissipated slams into me with renewed force. A spasm instantly chomps at my stomach. They don’t seem to notice any sign of distress wafting from me. My mom beams at him while nodding in my direction. Real subtle.
I cringe while lowering myself into a chair. “Please don’t start, Dad. I can’t handle your wrath right now.”
He frowns, taking a seat next to me. “Why would I be upset with you?”
“That’s a fair point,” I mutter. It might’ve been a tad presumptuous to assume he’d already be aware of my unemployment status. Just that daunting title makes me want to bang my head on the table. “I left Brogen Realty.”
“Oh?” My mother’s mouth forms a small circle. “And why might that be?”
“It’s complicated.” I exhale and glare at the ceiling. “That’s not really what I want to think about right now.”
“Does this mean—”
My dad interrupts her with a cutting motion. “I doubt it, love.”
I slice a glance to him. “No, I’m not going to law school.”
His chuckle is loose and airy. The sound contrasts against his fierce image while arguing in hostile litigations. “Yes, sweetie. I’m well aware you’re happy in commercial real estate for whatever reason.”
“It’s the path I chose whether you approve or not.”
“I’m learning to accept that.” His tone is too calm.
I squint at him. “You’re usually much more adamant about my poor decision-making. I’m expecting you to go off on a tangent any minute.”
“Yikes.” He winces. “Am I really that bad?”
“Yes,” I state without pause. We’ve ripped at this topic on countless occasions, but I’m typically more forgiving. On the surface, at least. The man is my father and deserves my respect, even if he’s cross with me. But I’ve ripped off too many emotional band-aids in the last hour to mince my words any longer. “You’ve always been really hard on me. Trevor has it easy because he followed in your footsteps. That’s what I get for being a rebel.”
He looks to my mom for clarification. She shrugs, then nods in my favor. All traces of humor fade from his expression. “All right, maybe I’m too tough on you. I knew you could handle it, Savvy. You’re my fierce fighter. Why do you think I’m so disappointed that being a lawyer doesn’t call to you? For me, it’s like you’re made for the courtroom. However, I understand it’s not your passion. Am I frustrated you don’t want to be part of the family firm? Sure. That doesn’t stop me from celebrating your success and accomplishments.”
That’s the moment I burst into tears. Big, ugly, sloppy streams rush down my face. Pure fire burns my nose as I let it all pour out. I cover my wet cheeks, but the tracks keep flowing.
My father looks absolutely horrified, if his round eyes are anything to judge by. That typically stern