“Oh, it’s not that bad.” She bats a hand before scooping some for herself, wincing as she swallows and points her fork at me. “Better than the first batch.”
“My gratitude at being summoned for the second batch cannot be overstated.”
“How’s school going? You’re staying focused?” She askswith a raised brow, and there’s no missing the way her eyes flick to my outfit.
The real question is whether I’m letting my “little hobby” interfere with my future career—God forbid. The first time I mentioned becoming a professional stylist, Dad laughed. And that pretty much sums up how they’ve viewed any of my career aspirations which can’t be measured by traditional standards and high achievements.
“Of course she’s staying focused.” Dad’s voice interrupts from behind, making me wince. “She’s going to make us proud.”
I’mgoing tomake them proud.As in, not presently giving them anything to brag about.
“I need to steal this one for a second.” He smiles at Mom, ushering me out of the kitchen and into the sunroom.
CHAPTER TWO
With every step, it feels like my feet are stuck in cinder blocks while a mini tornado swirls in my stomach.
Dad turns to me, those broad, trophy-earning shoulders lifting with a sigh. “How are your classes going?”
“They’re going.” I nod, gripping the table behind me.
“I’m setting up that internship interview for you, Will. You know they’re going to ask about your grades.”
As usual, no one can see past the achievement-driven haze in this family, particularly not my dad. He thinks I want the life he’s prescribed for me, probably because I’ve tried so hard to convince my parents and myself that I do.
“All they care about is my last name,” I deflect. My grades are less than stellar at the moment, but I’m certainly not going to be the one to bring that up.
“That name only gets you so far,” he says, frowning.
I cringe internally. “I’m . . . getting by.”
“Are you really? Because I’m not sure how you’re staying focused while doingthis.” He holds out his phone and gestures over it.
I reach for it, but I already know what he’s found.
It’s a miracle it took anyone this long. An Instagram following of nearly a hundred thousand is no small accomplishment. Who knew an account about color analysis and which celebrities are wearing their true season would blow up so much?
My thumb trembles as I scroll through the grid of posts. “I know they say everyone has a doppelganger, but this is wild. She looks just like me.”
“Willow.”
“What do you want from me, Dad?” I scoff, handing him the phone. “It’s just an Instagram page. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Willow.” He sighs, the sound of it weighted by disappointment. “I just want you to be successful.”
And all I want is to make him proud by being who I am, but I always come up short.
His head hangs, an inhale lifting his broad shoulders as he finally looks into my eyes. “No more changing majors. I said I’d pay for this degree, but only if youfinishit. Promise me there won’t be any more distractions,” he demands, gesturing back to the phone.
The urge to appease him is strong, but I press my lips together and stare back at him, hoping that maybethistime he’ll catch a glimpse of the spark that’s dwindling inside me.
I want to tell him about the call from Fiona Sterling, to watch his eyes light up when he hears that I’ve been selected from a thousand other hopeful applicants. Because an accomplishment of this magnitude should mean something. But I might as well save my breath, because it won’t mean anything to him.
My brain finally kicks into damage control, and the words string themselves together as I take a step toward him and lay my hand on his big, burly chest. “This isn’t abig deal. I’ll get it done, and I’ll make you proud…I promise.”
“I know you will, sweetheart. You’d be unstoppable if you’d justfinishsomething.” His hand gives me a brief squeeze, his words leaving a sting as he walks away.
I never intended on being known as a quitter, but my track record hasn’t exactly painted a different picture.