Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3) - Page 39

“No, let’s talk about it now.”

“No. Let’s really not. But…” She sighed. “I don’t know how to make her happy anymore. I’m doing everything she wants. I’m taking business, just like she wants. She can’t wait until I graduate, so I can take over our stores in the Philippines. But…”

“It’s not what you want.”

She looked at me helplessly. “That’s the thing, Kar. I’ve been following my mom’s plan for so long, I don’t even know what I want anymore.”

She plopped on her bed and turned on the TV. She shook her head at me, a sign that she really didn’t want to talk about it, and patted the space beside her. I sighed and lay down beside her. I wanted to talk to her about my blackmailer, but the timing was off. She had so much on her plate that I didn’t want to burden her more with my problems. We watched one of her shows for a while before I said goodbye.

It was still early when I got home, still preoccupied with my conversation with Tala. Ever since Mrs. B’s mother passed away a year ago, Mrs. B’s health had declined. If she wanted to move, it wouldn’t be a problem for them financially. Tal’s family was loaded.

What I couldn’t get out of my mind was the helpless anguish in Tala’s eyes.

The back porch light turned on as I looked for my house keys in my purse. Tired to the bone, I prepared myself to have a hard time opening the door, but it opened easily. Dad must have repaired it already.

The house was ancient, and the wooden door became swollen from moisture. Dad had to trim it. It should’ve been replaced, but doors were pretty expensive.

I heard the sounds of the TV before I pushed it open.

“Hey, Kara Koala, you’re early. How was your girl night?” His smile turned into a frown when he saw me. “What’s wrong?”

I stored my boots in the closet, dumped my keys in the bowl on the console table, hung my purse on the hook, and walked to the kitchen to get something to drink. The light from the fridge made a yellow slash on the floor.

“I think Tal’s mom wants to go back to the Philippines for good.”

He sat up from the couch and muted the TV. “Hmm.”

My dad knew me enough not to say anything. To give me time to formulate my thoughts. The more people demanded what I was thinking or feeling, the more closed off I got.

I took my time, storing the Tupperware filled with pancit that Tala gave me in the fridge, boiling water, cutting up lemon wedges to make honey lemon tea for me and my dad.

I handed him the cup and sat beside him. We watched TV for a while. I was lost in my thoughts, and I didn’t realize there was no sound from the TV until I heard my dad sipping his tea.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“You never asked me to be anything,” I said quietly, staring intently at my cup. “You never told me what you want me to become.”

He took another sip. Sighed deeply. “That’s because you already are what I want you to be.”

I felt the threat of tears.

“You know what your favorite sentence was when you were a kid?”

I sniffed. “Gimme food?”

He chuckled. “You eat like me, but we never gain weight, do we? I got supreme genes, I tell you.”

I nodded. “That you have, Mr. Hawthorne. That you have.”

The light from the TV was playing on my dad’s features when I looked up at him.

“Your favorite sentence was I can do it.” He laughed as if remembering a funny memory.

“I don’t know if you remember, but you were five years old, and you were watching me wash the dishes. All of a sudden you tugged at my shirt and said, ‘Dad, I wanna do it.’ I remember how big the plate looked in your hands and I thought you were going to drop it. I tried to take it from you, but you got mad and said—”

“No, I can do it.”

Tags: Isabelle Ronin Chasing Red Romance
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