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She pointed her glass at me. “So do you have to find a future ex-Mrs. Benson that will make Daddy happy?”
I struggled to not spit out the water I’d sipped. “God, no. The debacle with Dennis put an end to that kind of talk from Dad. In the end, it caused Dennis to leave the company, and for a while it drove quite a wedge between him and Dad. She was an actress, and the whole courtship was just a giant act he fell for.”
“I imagine that would put a dent in your self-esteem.”
“It hit him pretty hard—not because he thought he could make it work, but because he was ashamed at having been taken in.”
Nicole forked up the last of her dinner.
I continued. “Dennis and my next brother, Zach, are here in LA. Vincent, the youngest other than me, got out of town and is in Boston, married to a bad-ass FBI agent, if you can believe that.”
“And so the responsibility falls to you now?”
“I’m the only one left.” Instead of sounding happy for the opportunity, my tone was closer to it being a responsibility, a sentence. And that’s the way I felt at the moment—obligated rather than enthused.
“And you’re not thrilled about it?”
She’d read my mood, not that I’d attempted to hide it.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s just that the bar is set pretty high, and I hate failing.” I didn’tallowmyself to fail would have been more accurate.
“I had the same issue,” she lamented, surprising me. “It seemed like Daddy was harder on me than the other employees. But I learned to deal with it.”
So she did understand the pressures of having to live up to the older generation’s expectations in a family-run firm.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I get that he doesn’t want to be accused of favoring me, but sometimes it seems like more than that.”
“Maybe you’re overthinking it and just being hard on yourself.”
The lilt of her voice, the upward curl of her kind lips told me she meant it nicely. But damn if it wasn’t easier to say it than do it.
“No, it’s real.” Dad had been rough the past few months, colder and more distant than before. The extra criticism wasn’t my imagination. “And getting worse.”
“Have you considered pulling the ripcord, like your brothers?”
I blew out a loud breath and shook my head. “Not in my family. That’s not an option for me. It’s like reverse musical chairs. I’m that last one, and if I leave, it’s like turning off the lights and abandoning Dad.”
“Then have a talk with him. If it doesn’t change…” She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead she offered her hand across to me.
I accepted the gesture, as well as the kind gaze and smile that came with it.
“You’ll do fine. Sometimes we’re more sensitive when the critiques come from family.”
Somehow the tables had turned, and instead of me comforting her, Nicole was providing support I hadn’t asked for—support I’d uncharacteristically accepted.
I smiled back. “Thank you.”
Our waiter bussed the dishes and dropped off the dessert menu for us to peruse, even though I already knew my selection.
Nicole had been restless in her seat for a while. “Could we move dessert to another night. Please?”
“Getting out of sharing tiramisu with me again?”
She batted those luscious eyes. “This dress is itching me something awful. I just have to get out of it.” Her tongue slowly swept her upper lip.
Dammit, I’d been too worried about my predicament to get the message. I stood quickly and threw two Benjamins on the table. A different dessert was going to be on tonight’s menu as soon as I got her home. Guiding her out through the crowd, the feel of her body heat under my hand had me wishing I’d caught her cues earlier.
Chapter 30
