ng independent plans to travel internationally with a billionaire.
The power dynamics of our relationship were shifting faster than he could process.
“What about your house?”
“Your responsibilities here?”
“What responsibilities?”
The question came out sharper than I’d intended.
“Brandon, what exactly do you think I’m responsible for that would prevent me from traveling?”
Another long silence because we both knew the answer.
Nothing.
I had no job, no dependence, no commitments that couldn’t be handled with a phone call or postponed for a few weeks.
My life had become so small that it could fit into a carry-on bag.
“I just think maybe you’re moving too fast with this relationship,” Brandon said finally.
“You’ve known him for what, 2 days?”
“I’ve known him for 50 years,” I corrected.
“We’re just picking up where we left off.”
“Mom, please be reasonable.”
“You can’t just run off to Italy with some man.”
“Some man?”
Theo raised an eyebrow at that, clearly amused.
“I can’t.”
I interrupted Brandon’s protests.
“Why not?”
“I’m 68 years old, Brandon.”
“Not 8.”
“I don’t need your permission to live my life.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.”
“You’ve spent the last 3 years treating me like a child who can’t be trusted to make her own decisions.”
“Well, guess what?”
“I’m making them anyway.”
I hung up before he could respond and immediately turned off the phone.
“That felt good,” I admitted to Theo.
“I imagine it did.”
“though I should probably mention that I don’t actually have a house in Tuscanyany.”
I stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.
“You don’t?”
“Not yet,” he said with a grin.
“But I can have one by next week if you’re interested.”
The casual way he said it, like buying international real estate was no more complicated than picking up groceries, should have been intimidating.
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