AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And tell me how your already near-impossible chance for success would be affected if it became public that you are in a relationship with a female stripper who goes by only one name. You’d be without your own surname to fall back on, without my social reach, without your daddy’s money, and without every single thing this world has ever given you to succeed--other than that stubborn head of yours that tells you that you are better than me and your father. You have never needed us and you never will . . . but you still keep using the very things we have given you to succeed in life.” She lets out a frustrated sigh, sitting back in her seat. Angry at herself for the outburst of emotion.
“Yes, you will come back to the house, Willow. And we are going to clean up this mess once and for all. Let me tell you: after tonight, your daddy and I never want to hear that showgirl’s name again.”
I feel the tears run down my face. I have spent my entire life focused on one goal. One job. One seat. I can get there. I know in my heart and head that I can do it. But never without them. It was why I put up with the rest of it, for that goal. To get there.
My mother’s threat is real, the implication loud and clear. Go to the house and let Mommy and Daddy fix my silly little mess for me, or go to my apartment. Back to a life with Lola. And kiss goodbye every single dream I had had before I met her.
I nod. Words are difficult but the tears won’t stop. It’s a constant stream of despair.
My mom reaches for my hand. She’s not a cold woman; she does love me. She just doesn’t understand me because I don’t want the life she wants for me.
My heart is broken.
“It will heal,” she says softly, barely a whisper.
I don’t reply because I know it never will.
16
Lola
The week that followed was perhaps the longest and darkest of my life.
I had known there was something hiding under the surface when it came to Willow. I had never felt like Willow was keeping a secret from me. Instead, I’d felt like she hadn’t found the right moment to share all of herself yet. And I was okay with that because I thought we had forever.
I could have looked her up on Google. I know I could have. I knew that it would have given me the answers.
But I had chosen to respect Willow’s privacy. Sharing was something to be earned, not just taken.
But after the two-line break-up text I got, I guessed that Google was now fair game.
‘Willow Rutherford,” I typed with a desperate twist deep in my stomach.
Google held nothing back.
Willow Elizabeth Rutherford. Daughter of Senator Jackson Rutherford Jr.
Of course. Why had I not connected her name to his? When I looked at his photo next to hers, I could see the same strong nose and hazel eyes with flecks of amber.
Willow Rutherford. The senator’s daughter.
A woman like her doesn’t date strippers, Lola.
Her life had been documented via magazines I would never read. Her family was splashed across pages and pages of who’s who. Photos of Willow on yachts with billionaires and at the Hamptons with A-list celebrities. Interview articles where her father’s unscrupulous business decisions were questioned, and Willow’s stoic, no-comment responses. The preppy schools, the studies abroad, and even a college with had her last name on half the buildings on campus.
I knew Willow. My Willow. But Willow Elizabeth Rutherford, Senator Rutherford’s daughter, was a stranger to me.
Still, I held on tight. I understood exactly what had happened. She hadn’t wanted to tell me in case it changed things, which it would have. How could it not?
And if Willow had told me, then we would have had to confront the inevitable question of what was going on between us. And where could it possibly lead.
Women like her don’t date women like me.
She hadn’t told her parents because . . . well. We all know why. Then suddenly Willow’s world was upended, so she retreated and hid from who she really is.
All that I could understand, could forgive. I still saw a future for us when the dust settled. Perhaps she’d be able to see it too, I told myself.
Until I got the letter.
