A Cosmic Kind of Love(39)

Frustration burned in my throat, but I pushed past it. “I’m not set toward destroying anything. I’m just taking time to regroup.”

“What kind of man takes time to regroup?” he spat the last word like it was filthy. “How can my son be so brave as to fly fighter jets and travel into space and yet be such a lazy disappointment now?”

Though his words physically hurt, like a punch in my chest, I showed no outward appearance of them bothering me in the slightest. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But I’m doing what I have to do.”

“What is that exactly?”

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cave to his interrogation, but like always, Javier Ortiz had a way of making me feel like that nine-year-old who’d got caught stealing his father’s watch. I’d only done it because I wanted to feel closer to him. To have something of his. And he’d treated me like a common thief. Suddenly the words were coming up out of me before I could stop them. “NASA received some interest in me writing a book, so that’s what I’m working on right now.”

My father’s frown relaxed. “A book?”

“Yes.” Shit. Why did I tell him?

“As in an autobiography?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Fine. I’ll want to read it first. And I’d also like you to publish it through one of my companies.”

My father’s company was the parent company of several publishing houses.

And this was why I shouldn’t have said a damn word.

“NASA is going to deal with all of that.” We hadn’t discussed it thoroughly, but I was pretty certain from my conversation with them they would.

“I’ll still want to read it first. I need to make sure that any mention of me or our family isn’t damaging to the company’s public image. And I’ll want to make sure you’re getting the best deal, so I’ll need your contact at NASA.”

There was his arrogance, thinking he could manage this over the efforts of an agency like NASA. I drew myself up for a possible explosive reaction. “You’re not reading it, and you will have nothing to do with its publication. But don’t worry, you’re barely mentioned.”

“Excuse me?” He cut me a dark look.

“The book is about my journey to becoming an astronaut.” It was more than that, but he didn’t need to know that. “You don’t factor into it.”

“I’ll still want to read it first.”

“And I said no.”

“Why?” He took a step toward me, eyes flashing with his growing anger. “Why wouldn’t you let me read it unless you were intending to say damaging things about me?”

Refusing to be intimidated, I replied calmly, “I don’t want you reading it first because it’s got nothing to do with you.”

“I’m your father.”

“Only in the biological sense.”

“What the hell does that mean, you disrespectful little shit?”

I refused to flinch as he raised his voice. I’d learned long ago that the calmer I was during an argument, the more it pissed him off, and I was just spiteful enough to enjoy it. “I’m grateful for the opportunities the money you worked hard to make afforded us, but let’s not pretend that you had any hand in raising me. Beyond your controlling interest in my education, you weren’t there to raise me as other fathers are there to raise their sons. I’m not complaining.” That was a lie. Mom was there for us emotionally and always had time for us in the evenings, but she worked extremely hard on her business too, so we had a lot of babysitters when we were kids. Miguel and I saw more of those babysitters than we ever saw of our father. “I’m just stating a fact. You and I are not close. Writing this book is very personal to me, and you are the last person I would think to come to about it.”

“Always disrespecting me. Since you were a boy. Talking back, disagreeing with me, asking questions you should not be asking.” He spat out each of these as if they were a crime and strode around his desk to stand behind it. “You were always ungrateful. Why couldn’t you be more like Miguel?”

I lowered my gaze so he wouldn’t see me flinch.

Why can’t you be more like Miguel?

I’d joked to my brother once that I was going to get the question tattooed on my body because our father asked it so many times. The joke covered up the trauma the question inflicted on me.

Miguel was the charmer of the two of us. He always knew what to say to get around our father. Miguel was the one who convinced him to allow me to attend the academy.

“For just a moment, I was proud to be your father. To say my son was an astronaut. But, like always, you cannot stick to something once you commit. You even let Darcy Hawthorne slip through your fingers, and now she’s marrying a fucking French artist, of all things. You should have proposed to that girl before you went up into space. I might have forgiven this current fuckup if you’d made a useful connection with the Hawthornes. You know I am interested in investing in the hotel business, but no, you had to screw that up too.”

Hurt seized me. But I’d never let him see. Instead I gave a huff of amusement. “We’re in the twenty-first century now. Maybe you should join us there.”

“You impudent little fuck,” he said in quiet fury. “Get out of my office. And don’t bother coming back until you have your life together.”