Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I croaked as guilt soured the coffee in my stomach. “It’s… something.”
If he noticed my less-than-enthusiastic response, he didn’t show it. Most likely, he was too wrapped up in his fantasy of a father-son empire.
“You by my side is all I’ve ever wanted, son.”
I set my mug down. Another sip, and it would all come back up. “Thanks, Dad.” I had to tell him, and soon.
Or I could switch my major back, get an MBA, take over, and be miserable for the rest of my life to avoid disappointing him.
Again.
My parents had been great when I came out to them at sixteen. They said everything right, donated to LGBTQ+ causes, and hadn’t even acted shocked.
Despite both coming from extremely conservative backgrounds, they were smart enough to realize my sexuality wasn’t a choice or something they could control. My career path, though? That was a choice, I just had to be willing to go against everything I’d been groomed for since birth. This bomb had the potential to destroy my family the way my sexuality hadn’t.
“I’m going to get started up again,” my father said, squeezing my shoulder. “I have another meeting immediately after this, but I’ve arranged for you to spend some time in the R&D lab. Okay?”
“Sure. That sounds great.”
He beamed at me, then moseyed back toward his place at the head of the table. “Okay, if you could all take your seats, we’ll continue.”
I spent the rest of the meeting pretending to focus on whoever spoke while my mind drifted a million miles away. The pressure to slide into a slot I wasn’t built for had never felt so crushing. It had always been there, but hovering on the periphery as something to deal with when I finished high school, when I graduated from college, and then when it was time to obtain a Master’s degree. I pushed the decision back every chance I had, but now I’d hit the wall. There wasn’t anywhere else to hide, no other corners to shove this decision. Hell, I’d decided months ago—now I just had to man up and own it.
And crush the dreams of the father who’d given me everything.
I think if there were a chance my father would react well, my anxiety would disappear. But there was no chance he would take this news well. Not when pigs flew or snowballs formed in hell. Those idioms left a minuscule window of hope. Most considered my father a fair, even-keeled man. Even those working under him described him in favorable terms. He rarely lost his temper and never at work, but I knew it was only because he got his wishes ninety-nine percent of the time.
That one percent?
Well, no one wanted to be the one percent that set him off.
And that’s where I lived these days, right in that dangerous one percent of things that would not go his way.
The board meeting finally concluded after two painful hours of statistics, projections, and verbal circle-jerking. I leaped to my feet before anyone could engage me in conversation and darted out the door toward the elevator.
Jabbing the down button a good twenty times, I glanced over my shoulder to the fully exposed boardroom. The rest of the meeting’s attendees milled about, chatting and finishing their coffee. My father was nowhere to be seen. He’d probably rushed straight to his second meeting.
No one had followed me to the elevator bank, so when the doors opened, I was able to slip inside alone.
The doors slid shut, and I sighed as I sagged against the wall, staring at the long string of numbered buttons. The button for floor seven, where I was due at the R&D labs, seemed to glow brighter than all the other floors.
I pushed the lobby button.
The yellow glow bounced down from floor sixteen, where I was.
Ten… nine… eight… seven…
My stomach tightened.
Six… five…
My father would be livid when the lab called to ask why I didn’t show up. He’d blow up my phone and eventually corner me at the house. By leaving, I’d essentially scheduled a conversation with my father about my future.
No escaping it now.
Speaking of escape, as soon as the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, I shot out and strode across the lobby toward the exit with the gait of a man on a mission. No one stopped me, though a few called out greetings, which happened whenever I came around. Nearly all of the thousand-plus employees knew me by face and name, even if I’d never laid eyes on them.
The second I left the revolving door and stepped into the cold, crisp downtown air, an enormous weight lifted off my shoulders. Despite what I’d thought, someone must have clocked me leaving because my father’s valet service had my car idling at the curb.
“Thank you,” I said as I accepted the keys from a trim older man in a CallCore security uniform who held my car door for me.