“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb, Asher. I helped you ‘kidnap’ that girl you’re obsessed with. The one who wants nothing to do with you, by the way. So maybe get off your high horse before lecturing me about—”
“That’s rich coming from you," he mimics back. "Remind me, didn’t you give your baby mamamyname the night you impregnated her?”
I grip the phone tighter, my other hand crumpling up a napkin at my side. “Yes, but that’s why I’m here trying to fix my mistakes instead of throwing money at them. That’s more than I can say for you.”
Asher sighs. “Right, Saint Jamie. Should I nominate you for Father of the Year now or wait until you actually show up for her birthday? Tell me, was it worth leaving Honey for all this?”
The napkin is a ball now. “At least I’m fucking trying,” I hiss. “Unlike you. You were born with a platinum spoon so far up your ass it’s touching your tonsils and making you believe you can have anyone when clearly, they don’t want you.”
I hear Asher huff out a breath and silence stretches between us.
“You done?” Asher asks. He’s used to my outbursts by now. Sometimes I can’t help them. He’s the only person who knows the truth, which means he gets a hell of a lot more baggage than most.
“Probably not.” I rub my free hand over my face. “But I don’t have the energy to keep going.”
“Good, because you know I’m not the enemy here, right? I’m trying to help you. Your father won’t get any information out of me. I just want to help… monetarily, or otherwise.”
“I’m sorry, Asher. I know I’m being an asshole.” The admission tastes bitter on my tongue. “I just—” I break off, not sure how to explain the constant weight pressing down on my chest.
“What are you planning, brother?” Asher’s tone softens. “I need to know if you want me to access those secret funds we have.”
Ah, yeah, the accounts with all the money we used to use for those stupid bets we’d play in high school.
A timeout notification pops up on the screen.
Are you still working on your application?
You’ll be signed out in 60 seconds due to inactivity.
Tap “Continue” to stay logged in.
The timer is counting down.
“I’m going to transfer,” I say finally. “To St. Michael’s.”
“What?” The word explodes through the speaker. “Are you insane? Your father will—”
“Lose his shit? Yeah, I’m counting on it.” I move my finger across the trackpad to the ‘Continue’ button. “I’m done, Asher. I’m done with everything. I’m done letting him control every fucking aspect of my life. I’m done trying to fit intohis legacy.”
I feel the last two words deep in my soul.
His legacy…not mine. It will never be mine. Not really.
“So, you’re going to give up everything for a daughter you only found out existed six months ago?” It’s not unkind. He’s hitting me with the reality of what I’m doing. What I’m choosing. No money. No support. Nothing.
I will have to somehow figure out how to make it on my own.
Just like Tiff.
“Look, I get it. You’re trying to do the right thing, but torching your entire future—”
“What future?” I interrupt. “The one where I marry a girl I don’t love, work at a firm I hate, and pretend to be someone I’m not?” I shake my head even though he can’t see it. “That’s not a future, Asher. It’s a fucking prison sentence.”
“Okay, but—”
“I found something that matters,” I cut him off again. “Something real. For the first time in my privileged, hollow life, I actually give a shit about something beyond the next party or my trust fund balance.”