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But despite his lies, his overbearing attitude, I still want him.
Days pass and I barely notice.
Every single moment that we've spent apart has been miserable. It has given me time to really sort through my feelings, and there's a truth inside of me that I just can't shake. The lust and desire I feel for Derrick is something I've never doubted, but beneath it, there's something deeper. Something stronger.
I … I think I really am in love with him.
If he just told me the truth from the beginning, admitting to myself that I was in love would have been cause for celebration. Now, there's nothing but sadness and disappointment.
Dad has barely said anything since he found out that I was seeing a millionaire, and I can tell he's worried. "Alina, can we talk?"
We're at the dinner table, and I haven't touched any of the food on my plate. "Talk about what?"
Dad makes a frustrated noise, and when he speaks, I can hear the worry in his voice. "I'm not stupid, Alina. You don't want to tell me what happened with Derrick, and that's fine. But this isn't healthy. You're not eating. You barely get out of bed."
He's right. I've been stuck inside, thinking about everything that's happened. I miss the sunny morning walks, the evening dinners on the patio, Derrick’s smile when I compliment his cooking.
"What do you want me to say?" I'm not trying to be rude, but Dad sighs and pushes away his plate.
"I want you to do something, Alina. I'm not the best at showing affection, but I'm your dad, and I love you. If you're hurting, I want to help." My heart aches for him, for me, and for everything that's happening. I finally look up at him, and his eyes are rimmed red. He's worried about me.
Oh. He really does care. This is what I wanted when I moved to Cape May, and now here it is. The proof that my father truly cares for me, despite the years apart and unanswered questions between us. I force myself to sit up straighter and give him an honest answer.
"Thank you, Dad. I'm sorry, I know I've been a mess."
His face softens. "It's okay. As long as you're moving forward, it's okay to take your time. Just don't shut down completely."
Giving him a guarantee isn’t something I can do, but I meet him in the middle. “I’ll try my best.”
The following morning, I get a call from a number I don't recognize. Curious, and with a sliver of hope that it might be Derrick, I answer.
"Is this Alina Brant?" an unfamiliar male voice asks.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"This is Bruce Rentschler from RenTech. I'm calling regarding the email we sent you a few days ago with the job offer. We never heard back from you, and I just wanted to check-in. Your portfolio was stellar, and we'd really like to have you on the team."
My stomach drops. The email he's talking about, the job offer that should have been the highlight of my year, is what led me down the path of leaving Derrick. "Sorry sir, it's just…" Then, his words land. "Wait, did you say my portfolio? I was under the impression Derrick Brant asked you to hire me. I never sent you my portfolio."
"You're partially correct. Derrick is an old colleague of mine, and he sent me your portfolio and resumé and told me to have a look. We offered you the job based on your work, not anything Derrick had to say." He chuckles. "I like Derrick, but not enough to hire a random person just because he asks."
My jaw hangs open, and my heart pounds. This changes everything.
"In fact,” Bruce continues, “Derrick hasn't been in contact with me since we sent the offer. I was hoping you were still interested, but if you aren’t?—”
I'm not paying attention to any of Bruce's words now. All I can think about is Derrick.
I told him not to contact me, and he listened. And even though he kept a lot of information about his past and his money from me, he was always honest with what he felt. I wasn't used to the kind of open emotional honesty he displayed when we were together. He told me what he wanted and made his expectations clear—even if those expectations were a little overbearing.
But while he did contact Bruce, it was only to give him my resume and portfolio, just like I would have done myself. RenTech didn't offer me the position based on a request from Derrick; the decision was theirs. All Derrick had done was believe in me and let my work speak for itself.
The realization is a weight lifted off my chest, and the last lingering shred of anger fades away.
"Mr. Rentschler?" I interrupt his rambling about the job. "I'd love to attend the virtual interview."
When the call is over, I sit cross-legged on my bed. I pull out my phone, hesitating as I stare at the screen. If I message him, there's no turning back. Derrick is an all-in kind of guy.
And I guess I’m an all-in type of girl, too.
