“Bryson, it’d be a mistake.”
I stood up. “Don’t you dare tell me it’s a mistake. Falling in love with him was not a mistake. This is not my mistake. This is your mistake. This is your mess. You fucked this up, and so help me, you will fix it.”
“Fix it?”
I slammed my fist on the desk. “You will fix it. You will go and see him, and beg and fucking grovel if you have to. And you will apologise. Because, thanks to you, he won’t see me. And unlike you, as much as I want my business to succeed, I will choose him over any of this, any day of the week.”
“Bryce.”
“Don’t ‘Bryce’ me. You need to fix this because I am not you. I can give one hundred percent to my business and one hundred percent to Michael. Because he gives one hundred percent back to me. See, Dad, that’s the thing about relationships. You get back what you put in. I’m sorry my mother left you. But she left me too.” That hurt him to hear as much as it hurt me to say it. “And if that’s taught me anything, anything at all, it’s that I have more reason to fight for him.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.
“You can start with an apology. To me, and to Michael. You don’t just get to try and ruin the best thing to ever happen to me and walk away like it was nothing. You hurt him, and by doing that, you hurt me. I love him, and I need you to make this right.”
My father swallowed hard. “I, uh, I have a very busy week and I’m out of town—”
“I’m not asking. You find the time to apologise to him. Make it happen, Dad. You need to make this right.”
Dad sat there, still and silent, and I stood there in front of him. I wasn’t backing down and I wasn’t apologising. “I’m not even going to discuss your timing of this whole mess,” I said, low and calm. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t try to sabotage my opening day and my relationship just to prove your point that the two can’t exist side by side. And honestly, it’s not the fact that you hurt me that bothers me the most. You hurt Michael, and that’s worse. So if you make no attempt to fix what you broke, I’ll know that what I’ve said here tonight means nothing to you.” I stopped short of saying that I’d know my happiness meant nothing or that I meant nothing.
I didn’t need to say that. It was right there, like a third person standing beside me.
Two against one.
Still, he said nothing. But I’d said everything I’d come to say, everything I’d told Michael I was going to say. Why did I give him the impression that Michael had broken up with me?
To make my father realise his betrayal and work for his apology. If he knew that Michael and I were okay, he’d see no reason to apologise. He’d simply brush it off as nothing lost, no damage done. At first I thought maybe Michael and I should confront him as a united force, but this worked better.
And there was no untruth spoken here tonight.
“Okay,” I said, letting out a resigned sigh. “I’ve said all I needed to say. I’m gonna go now.” I got to the door. “Don’t forget to eat dinner.”
“Bryce,” he said, getting to his feet. “Where are you staying?”
I met his gaze. “Not here. It’s not forever. I just need a few days. I’m sure you understand.”
I left with my chin raised. I’d stood up to him, and I’d said what needed saying. But man, the closer to Michael’s place I got, the worse I felt. He opened the door, took one look at me, and pulled me into his arms. “Oh, Bry,” he murmured. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I said everything he needed to hear.” I sighed. “And now we wait.”
He pulled back and cupped my face. “I love you. Let me look after you tonight. Tell me what you need.”
I kissed him, soft and sweet. “I just want to cuddle on the couch. I want to lie with you, hold you close, and think about nothing.” Then as an afterthought, I added, “Oh, and I want my BTS shirt back.”
He grinned. “Four out of five, I can do.”
Chapter Fifteen
Michael
I hated that Bryce was hurting over his father. I hated that his father had put him in this position, and I hated that his father put his own agenda before Bryce’s happiness. I hated that this was all happening when Bryce’s business was brand new. He had enough on his mind without all that.
Most of all, I hated that his father made him feel like shit.
He’d been so exhausted from work that when I’d pulled him onto the couch and we’d settled down, he put his head on my chest, I stroked his hair with my fingers, and he was asleep in no time at all.
I had to wake him to get him into bed, and he was restless all night. I fed him toast and juice at six o’clock and then sent him to work, and I was in the office a few minutes after seven thirty. I had a busy day ahead—it was Monday, after all. I could get more done in the hour before people started arriving, before meetings, and before the phone started ringing than I usually did in the rest of the day.
I hadn’t so much as looked up from my desk when Carolyne knocked lightly on my office door and came in. I glanced at the time on my computer. It was 8:32am. “There’s a guy here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment. I told him he’d need one, and he said to let you know who he is. He said his name is Schroeder.”
I frowned. “Bryce?” Because he should be busy as hell at work . . . unless his arsehole father went and made things worse . . .
She shook his head. “No, not Bryce. James. He said his name is James.”
Oh, dear God.
Just then, because of fucking course, Natalie walked into my office. She was wide-eyed and a little pale. “James Schroeder is here to see you. The James Schroeder is sitting in our waiting room.”
“Uh . . . Yes, Carolyne was just saying.”
She looked between me and Natalie. “Oh, is that . . . Schroeder of the Schroeder Hotels . . . oh god.” Her eyes went wide and landed on me. “I thought his shoes looked nice. And his coat. Actually, even his haircut looks expensive . . .”
Natalie was still staring at me. “Yes, that Schroeder. Just one of the richest men in Australia, actually. Property mogul extraordinaire, sitting in our waiting room. Waiting, Michael. You don’t keep James Schroeder waiting.”
“Actually, I think we should. Let’s take bets to see how long he’ll wait. I’ve got twenty bucks on five minutes . . . no, four minutes. I’ll give him four minutes before he walks out.”
Carolyne was clearly confused. She leaned in and whispered, “Why are we making him wait?”
“Because he’s an arsehole,” I replied. “And arseholes can wait.”
“Oh,” Natalie breathed. “I see.” She put her hand to her forehead. “Michael, we’re not letting our personal relationships affect our professional reputation, are we? That’s what we agreed on. Now, I don’t know what he did, but please don’t make this—”
Carolyne was still lost. “I’m so confused.”
Natalie pursed her lips. “I’m assuming that meeting the father-in-law didn’t go as planned.”