Chapter 21
Dalton
“Mr. Wellington, hey, I have a question for you!” I bounded from my spot in the courtyard and ran toward Brittany’s father who had now made it to the steps outside of the apartment building.
With a murderous expression on his face, he spun around to face me. “I do not want to hear anything from you, boy.”
I wanted to spit on his leather shoes, maybe scuff them a bit, but I held back and politely answered, “That’s fine, sir, I’d really rather not talk to you. But it concerns your amazingly talented and kind-hearted daughter.”
“Is August privy to you seducing my daughter?”
“Well, sir, it was not a one-sided seduction, and no, in fact, but I was intending to call him after this.”
“Do that.” Brittany’s father stepped into his car. I opened his passenger side and nearly gave the old man a heart attack.
“I want to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Get out of my car before I call the cops.”
I held up my hands and stepped back from his car, showing that I meant no harm. Brittany’s father reached over and closed his passenger door. He started his car, and after a moment of hesitation he opened his window a crack. I leaned in to hear him better.
“You want to ask Brittany to marry you?” he asked.
I nodded.
His expression was incredulous. “Now?”
“No, not now. Just in the future. In a few years, or maybe in a few months, but I know she’s the one.”
“Why in god’s name are you telling me this?”
“It felt like the right thing to do.”
His frown deepened. “Well, don’t, because it isn’t.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve already made myself a promise, Brittany a promise, and earlier in the courtyard, I made a promise to Talia.”
Staring straight ahead out of his windshield, Brittany’s father had the driver shut off his car. “You made a promise to my daughter Talia? That’s impossible. She is no longer with us.”
“I know. But she finally answered me in the courtyard just now. I had asked for her blessing a while ago, and as Talia is known to do, she took forever in answering.”
I could see the chip of a smile start to peek on the side of Brittany’s father’s lips as he must have remembered how Talia used to act. He finally turned to me, his eyes gray as stone.
“She answered you in the courtyard? Are you drunk, young man?”
“Completely dry,” I said, “and I heard her clear as day.”
I had heard her, a soft voice on the wind as it rustled the lavender I’d planted in the courtyard. As the stems of the lavender rubbed against each other, I could hear her favorite saying ring through the apartment complex as if she stood right next to me. “Why not?”
She had answered my question from the laundry room days ago.
To Brittany’s father, I said, “I will protect Brittany, no matter what, and I will not stoop to the depths I did when protecting Talia. I will care for Brittany, and I’ll earn enough money on my own without my inheritance to support her in whatever she wants to do, which I know is painting.”
“So, you’ve convinced yourself you have the blessing of my daughter who passed away while you were in a cell for assault, and now you want my permission?”
“No, not exactly, I just thought the right thing to do would be to let you know. It would be nice to have your blessing, but you’re a dick who stifles his daughter’s dreams so it doesn’t much matter anyway.” I was ready for him to back his car up and run me down after I threw those words in his face
Instead, his brow furrowed, and he clamped his mouth shut. He stared out front through his windshield again, then nodded to himself. “Do whatever the hell you want, just don’t expect any support from me.” And with that, he drove off.
That was when I called my father back. He exploded at first about how I had missed my meeting with his assistant, not letting me get a word in edgewise.
Then I told him everything, about the gang, about the police, and about wanting to marry Brittany. He was livid, mostly about the gang association, but my foster mother spoke up weakly in the background of the call. She said, “This is what Elizabeth wanted. He’s finally become a better man.”
“Mariah, he has caused a scandal, and just as I warned him, that breaks the contract we all agreed upon. I cannot release the money—”
For a crucial moment, Mariah Jones grew a backbone. “No, August, he did not break the contract decided upon by Elizabeth and Dalton’s parole officer. Yes, the gang thing may be a scandal, but one that will inevitably lead to good press for the son of the Jones family. He has found a woman and he has fallen in love, and he has chosen to finally walk a different path than his original one we had scooped him off of when it landed him in jail. Now, don’t make this any messier than it is by getting lawyers involved and creating a scandal with this denial of giving Dalton his money. The money is rightfully his, and if Brittany agrees to marry Dalton in the next two years, you cannot withhold it from him.”
I held my breath, waiting for my foster father’s response.
“Take your damn money, he spat. “Having to watch after you is too much. I’ll be glad to finally be rid of you. Also, Mariah misspoke—you are not the adopted son of the Jones family, you are the Mallard bastard I’ve had stuck in my side for years now. Once you have your money, you will be a stranger to us.”
“Dalton, honey,” Mariah said, “he doesn’t mean it, he’s just up—”
With a resounding click, I could tell that my foster father had hung up the phone, silencing my mom on the line as well. Perhaps his threat had been the truth, or maybe it was regrettable words flung out at me in the heat of the moment. Either way, none of it mattered to me. All I cared about was getting back inside to hold Brittany close.