Chapter 23
“Idon’t approve,” says Dad. Rory is on the other side of the room, talking with Pilar. Dad’s eyes are narrow as he looks at him and swirls the whiskey in his glass.
“I know,” I smile and am surprised at how relaxed I am. I’m done caring. I no longer have to live my life for anyone other than myself.
“You know?” Dad asks.
“I know, Dad, but things are different now. Now it’s about what I want. Not about what you or Mom want,” I say matter-of-factly.
He’d never admit it, but I swear I saw the hint of a smile on the corner of Dad’s mouth.
“Does he make you happy?” Dad asks
“He really does,” I say.
Dad lands a peck on my cheek and walks back to his place next to Mom, but he seems happy in a way I’m not accustomed to seeing him.
Rory couldn’t believe my sister’s house. I hadn’t seen it from an outsider’s perspective in a long time. From his eyes, my world is new and filled with a wonder I have long taken for granted.
“Is she royalty or something?” Rory had asked as we'd walked up to the door.
Pilar’s house is almost a palace. Her life lacks love from her partner, but in many ways, she has everything most women dream of—the perfect home and husband. My parents are happy and approve of her life, and I’m glad they have someone to approve of because I know it will never be me.
“He’s great,” Pilar whispers when she comes over to me. Rory is talking to Felipe about the home’s architectural elements, even though I know Rory is faking it.
“I know,” I say. “I’m happy.”
“Are you?”
“What? Happy? Yeah, Pili. I’m happy in a way I never thought was possible. I only hope one day you can find that same level of happiness.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you really think Felipe is your happiness?”
Pilar’s body stiffens, and I can decipher to the second the moment when her guard comes up. “This night is about you,” she says. “Leave me out of it just this once. Please?”
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry,” I say, and I am. This night is for Pilar to get to know Rory, and I have to keep reminding myself of that.
A maid announces dinner, and we all make our way to the dining room table.
Mom is a freaking painting. Beautiful, but a mere ornament on Dad’s arm. Felipe and Dad monopolize the conversation, and I squeeze Rory’s hand under the table. I whisper reassurances that him not feeding into their superficial bravado is perfectly fine.
“So, Rory, how much longer is your residency?” Felipe asks.
“Two more years” says Rory.
“That soon?” Felipe asks.
“Yeah. If all goes well—”
“And your plans after that?” Dad asks.
Rory clears his throat and swallows the bite of steak he is on. “Well, I’m not really sure. We have to decide where we want to live first—”
“Well,” says Dad, “You’ll be taking my daughter with you. I don’t quite see how it would work for you to move here—”
I jump in. “Dad! Can we please not talk about this?”