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“Leave Fi out of this.” I squeeze my sister’s hand before she can shout at him. “This is about me and what I want.”
“If this is about wanting to spend more time with Grayson...” he begins.
“Finish that thought,” I say softly, “and I’m walking out of here.”
Silence greets me.
“Sean,” Mom finally says. “Ivy’s twenty-two years old. She’s an adult now, so let’s treat her as one, shall we?”
That earns Mom a mulish look, but he relents. “I’m just a little shocked. But all right, Ivy. You don’t want to work with your mother. That’s your call. What do you want to do?”
A small laugh leaves me. And I bite down on my lips to prevent any more. Because I feel slightly unhinged for what I’m about to tell them. I know they’re going to think I am.
“I...” God, getting the words out is harder than I thought it’d be. “I think I want to look into sports agenting.”
Fi’s mouth falls open as she stares at me. “You’re shitting me, right?”
Mom and Dad are no better.
“Pardon?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
The last one from my outraged father.
I take a deep breath. “I’m perfectly serious. I’ve been talking to Gray and his friends, and I realized that it makes me happy to give advice. I love sports. I love interacting with athletes. It excites me.”
“Yeah, but...” Fi makes a helpless gesture. “That world, all the sleaze...”
Dad glares at her as Mom mutters something censorious.
Then Dad focuses on me. “Fi’s vivid imagery aside, she isn’t entirely incorrect. It’s a hard life, Ivy, and not something I want for you.”
“The thing is, at some point I have to do what I want for my life. Not what I think the two of you want for me.”
Mom’s lips press together. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Appeasing us?”
“Not entirely. I thought I wanted the bakery too. But I won’t say your feelings didn’t factor into it.”
Dad shakes his head, as if this confession is neither here nor there. “You’ve always hated my job. Do not lie to me, young lady. You have.”
“I know. Hell.” I stand and pace. “I don’t know, maybe I can make it something more.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Dad snaps. “Don’t you dare go Jerry Maguire on me.”
I almost laugh. Sports agents hate that movie, calling it a fantasy.
“I’m not naive,” I say quietly as I sit back down. “Though, really, Daddy? You do care about your clients’ lives. Don’t deny it.”
“Of course I care. I’m not going to work my ass off for a job I don’t care about. And don’t you use ‘Daddy’ to soften me up,” he counters with a pointed look.
“Fine. And maybe I’m not entirely clear on what I want. Perhaps I can go into life coaching and planning for athletes. That’s the part that inspires me, not the deals.”
Fi nods slowly. “I can see that.”
Sighing, I run a finger along the edge of the sofa. “I know it sounds weird, and it’s true I’ve resisted having anything to do with Dad’s business for so long. But when I think of doing this, it feels good. Right.” I can’t explain it any other way.
Everyone grows quiet.
