Broken Promises

42 | noah

"Take a seat," Mr. Rhodes tells me calmly, gesturing to the leather recliner opposite the desk in his study.

I stand stiffly with my hands in my pockets as Mr. Rhodes sits down in his desk chair. He glances at me expectantly, waiting for me to follow suit.

Dinner ended about fifteen minutes ago. Mrs. Rhodes and Brooke had whisked Blake away within seconds, wanting to hear the story of how she and I got together. That left me alone in the kitchen with Blake's father, who claimed he wanted to have a "talk". So now I'm standing in his study, understanding I don't have much of a choice in the matter.

"You don't have to be so nervous," Mr. Rhodes tells me, chuckling. "It's just a talk, son."

"Sorry," I murmur, "it's just . . . I've never done this before." I don't know why I admit this aloud.

"You've never done what before?" Mr. Rhodes asks, eyes dancing with amusement. "Talk to a girl's father?"

"Never," I admit.

"I remember my first talk with a girl's father," Mr. Rhodes says, as calm as ever. "It was this girl named Ariel's dad. I had asked her to be my date to the junior prom. I'd been so nervous, I had a temporary stutter all night." Mr. Rhodes laughs faintly at the memory.

"I've known your father all my life, you know," Mr. Rhodes tells me. "He's been my best friend since we were kids. I went through everything with that guy. Maybe that's why I trust you, Noah."

"You trust me?" I question, sounding maybe more bewildered than I should.

"Unless you'd rather me not?" Mr. Rhodes jokes, clearly amused by my reaction.

"It's not that," I'm quick to say, "I guess . . . I don't know. I guess I thought you were going to give me a hard time, or something."

"I'm not that kind of man," Mr. Rhodes assures me. "Besides, you're my best friend's son. I've known you since you were a baby, Noah, though I'm sure you don't remember much of that. I don't want to scare you off or give you a hard time. I want you to know I trust you, Noah. I believe you have good intentions. I hope your relationship with my daughter prevails."

Something in Mr. Rhodes's demeanor changes slightly. His blue eyes turn a shade darker, his expression hardens slightly. I find myself nervous all over again.

"However, Blake is still my daughter. Though I like you, she's always going to come first to me. I hope you understand that."

"Of course," I agree. "I wouldn't think otherwise."

"I want to know why you want to be with her," Mr. Rhodes says, leaning forward in his seat. "What you want from her. That kind of thing."

"I don't really want anything from her, sir," I assure him. "I just enjoy being with her. I like who I am around her. She makes me want to be a better person."

Mr. Rhodes nods approvingly. "I felt the same way about my wife when I met her," he tells me. "When I met Stacy's father, he made me answer him one question before he allowed me to leave the room."

"What was the question?" I ask, my nerves returning stronger than ever.

"The question was: When you look at my daughter, do you see forever with her?"

I sit in silence for a moment, lost in thought. I recall the first time I'd met Blake, how I'd thought she was cute but nothing more of the encounter. I think about how alluring she's become to me as time went on, how much I gravitated toward her. Blake Rhodes has gone from someone I'd never thought I'd be lucky enough to be with to someone I know I'll never be able to let go of. Looking into her eyes is like glimpsing into my future.

With this in mind, I find the answer to her father's question easily.

"Yes."

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a/n: i swear that taylor swift has no bad songs