Don't lose it. That will just prove Jonathan right.
I’m walking across the floor on shaky legs, praying they’ll hold me up until I get there. I plop my bag onto the desk and turn my laptop on, still pretending I can’t hear a word of what Jonathan is saying.
“She’ll drag us into petty scandals, personal apologies, and bad PR because she can’t separate the private from the public.”
My breath hitches. The room tilts, and I so badly want to melt into the carpet.
Then my father’s fist slams the desk, so loud we all jump. For a second the office is deadly quiet.
“I know,” he growls loud enough for some associates to gasp. “I know all of these things, Jonathan. My daughter is useless. She's flighty, has no sense of loyalty, and no interest in law.”
Useless.
I don’t move. I can’t.
My chest locks up, and I can barely breathe much less get my legs to function.
I stare at him through the glass of his office, waiting for him to look back at me and realize what he just said. To soften it. To take it back.
He doesn’t.
He keeps talking, but it’s all just white noise now.
I’ve always known I was a disappointment to him but hearing him say that in front of everyone here, makes me feel hollow inside.
I want to disappear so that no one can look at me and see how unwanted I am.
Happy fucking birthday to me.
“But she's a hell of a lot better than your so-called son and all the PR problems that come along with him.”
“PR problems my son caused? Are you forgetting your daughter is the one who fucked a homeless football player because she has daddy issues bigger than the fucking state?”
“Are you seriously going to compare her indiscretion to Jamie's?” My father's laugh is bitter. “The kid who impregnated half the town because he refused to use protection while he cheated on my daughter?”
This is too much.
I can’t sit here and listen to this.
Adjusting my shirt, I stand and haul my bag back over my shoulder. Then I make my way to the exit, my eyes only fixed on the elevator because if I look at anyone else, if I catch their eye and they see what's really behind them, I'll fall apart.
When the elevator doors shut behind me and I see the fractured image of myself again, that's when I finally admit it.
I'm broken.
I can't even make it out of the elevator lobby before my legs give out. I stumble to the wall, pressing my forehead against it, trying to remember how to breathe. People walk past without stopping. Without asking if I'm okay. They just... keep walking.
This is probably a normal sight for them.
I try to stand up straight, but my body won't cooperate. It's only when my phone won't stop buzzing in my bag that I finally pull it out, hoping for something—anything—that doesn't make me feel like I'm drowning.
Olivia:HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE!!! Landing tomorrow morning with Mike, can't wait to squeeze you!! Love you so much ????
Chris:Happy Birthday, Honey! The guys wanted to send you a video of them singing, but I told them we need to tone it down.
Chris:I know you're probably with Zach right now, but I'm here if you need anything.
Chris and Olivia. Both of them checking on me because they care about me. Actually care. Not because of Zach or what I can do for them.