“To you,” I said, holding my scotch in the air, a small table separating us at the restaurant.
Jo blushed, raising her champagne. “We’re toasting to me?”
“And we will be for weeks to come. That design, Jo”—I shook my head, clinking my glass against hers—“is fucking gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” She sipped from the flute. “I had a lot of faith in our architect, but I didn’t think he’d capture my ideas practically word for word.”
I set my drink down and reached across the table, covering her hand with mine. “You should have seen the way your father was looking at you. You’re his whole world.”
“The man about gave me a heart attack. I was positive he was going to tell me he hated it and then fire me.”
“But he loved it.”
“I’m honestly still in shock.” She clung to the thin stem, staring at the bubbly. “You know, I always pictured myself working for him, but I never knew what that would really look like.”
Our eyes finally locked.
“My parents divorced when I was ten. I lived with Mom mostly. Dad took me every other weekend, and most of those were spent flying to one of his hotels. A nanny would watch me while I played in the pool, so he could meet with the executive staff of the property.” Her fingers tightened, and so did my grip. “I heard his phone calls, I listened to him talk to his employees whenever I was in his office, and I tried to picture myself on the other end of that conversation. It’s one thing to be an alpha’s daughter; it’s a whole other thing to work for him.”
“And impress him.” I smiled. “But you have.”
A gentleness came through her eyes. “I can’t even tell you how overwhelming that feels.”
“Baby, trust me, I know.”
She placed her free hand over the back of mine, our fingers now stacked together, and she took several deep breaths, taking her time to say, “Today proved a lot to me, Jenner, and I know”—her voice softened—“it’s time.”