“I told you, dad, I could not miss my therapy session. They had nothing to do with that. And I’m not stopping her from marrying the president’s son. She could marry him for all I care.”
There was a soft pause on the phone, and I could hear his heavy breathing. I glanced around my study, seeing signs of my father everywhere; it was as if he was in the office with me.
Alba had gone to wait outside the office, so I was alone in the study. Vanessa had gone out for some groceries with Roger, so I was at least glad that she could hear none of these.
I did not tell her that the real reason I had gone to that gala a while ago was that my parents had tricked me into thinking that my presence there was compulsory, only for me to arrive and realize it was nothing but a weak attempt at matchmaking me with Thea Wright. English heiress and royalty, given she was somewhere far below the line of succession.
“Christian.” My father continued, and I sighed heavily; when he called my name like that, I knew a lecture was coming.
“Dad.” was my dry reply, although I doubt he picked up on it.
“This is not just your future we are talking about here. This is for the company's future; I did it, and my father before me did, as well as his father before him. Why should you be any different? There are sacrifices that we have to make for the greater good.”
Of course, the greater good he was referring to ensured that our wealth continued to multiply, which was sure to happen by marrying Thea Wright. Merging the two families also meant joining the two companies as well.
I was one hundred percent sure that sacrificing my happiness for a family legacy hinged only on wealth creation and multiplication was not the legacy I wanted for myself and my children. It was not worth it.
“I will not marry her, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better for all of us.” I said to him, and he hung up after that.
I sighed in relief, knowing this was far from the end of this discussion. My father was never one to give up easily. I had gotten my dogmatic character from him in personal decisions. He thought he was right on this and could bend me to his will. I knew for a fact that would never happen.
Two nights after my talk with my father, Vanessa and I were having dinner in the living room. Beanie was at her feet, and she was feeding her some chicken, which she was lapping off her palms in delight.
She was more of her pet now than she was, even mine, and I did not even mind because I loved seeing their bond. She’d told me about the pet she’d lost when she was younger and how it made her feel. She’d been too upset about it to get a new pet ever since until now. So, the least I could do was let her have this.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said to her, and she looked up from Beanie.
“Okay?”
“I want to take you out,” I said to her, and she gave me one of her big smiles. She was so far away, and I didn’t like that, not when I wanted her close to me; close enough that I could kiss her whenever I wanted to. Like right now.
“We already go out almost every weekend.” She said, still smiling.
“No, I want us to go on a vacation.” Her smile widened, and I felt my chest expand at the thought that I’d put that smile on her face.
“What?” Her voice broke at the word, and I could see she was getting excited by the prospect. “I’ve never left the country.” She stated boldly, and I was impressed by how unbothered she sounded. Only a few people could admit to that without feeling self-conscious.
“If you could leave right now? Like this very minute, what country would you pick?”
“Oh my God…” She let out a low chuckle, her eyes rolling around as she tried to come up with something. “Like this very second?” She asked me, and I nodded my head.
“Well, I think I would pick Belize if I could.”
I stared at her, a little surprised at her choice. I expected to hear about countries like France or Italy. Those were the most popular choices. Then Bali and Bora Bora were next in line. Gigi had expensive tastes, and we'd gone through all the popular vacation countries in the first year of our relationship.
“Belize?” I ask her.
“Yeah. Have you been,” she asked, “You probably have?”
“I haven’t. Which is why I’m a little surprised.”
“Oh.”
“Why Belize?” I asked, genuinely eager to know.
“Well, I saw this little postcard about an Island in Belize when I was a teenager. I do not know who sent it, but it showed up in our mail. I thought it was a mistake, but I kept it anyway. And I told myself if I ever got the chance to travel for a vacation, I would go to Belize.”
She looked down and then glanced back up at me when she finished. I could tell she felt a little shy by her admission.