Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
The sound of the Hale twins’ laughter rang in my ears, the vision of the two families out celebrating a life milestone together front and center in my mind. Suddenly, predictable sounded good. Calm. Boring, even. The deep satisfaction of making my parents proud and fulfilling the duty they’d lovingly set before me. The tradition of joining two families together who had the money and influence to make the community a better place. It was at least something to consider and yet all I’d been doing was chasing down a woman who’d obviously played me. “I’ll call you,” I told her, leaning forward and grazing her cheek with my lips. I lingered for a moment as I breathed in her scent. Flowery and familiar. Blakely. It was exactly what I needed. Perhaps she was too.
The Wingates said their goodbyes, Mrs. Wingate telling my mother she’d see her at the club the next day and Mr. Wingate reminding my father to send over the stock tip he’d mentioned. Blakely gave me another small hug, her perfume floating in the air even after the three of them had swept off and turned the corner out of sight.
I sank down into the booth next to my mother, picked up the glass of water in front of me on the table and downed the whole thing in one gulp and then set it back down. “I need a drink,” I mumbled. “Something strong.”
“Now, Gage, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” my mother said.
“Mom, I don’t have a drinking problem, okay? Despite…recent behavior, everything is fine with me.” I felt my jaw tense as I looked over at her. “Haven’t I proven to you that I’m more stable than that?” All my life. That’s all I’ve done. I’ve never slipped, never failed, not once.
My father frowned. “Of course you have, son. We both know how steady and competent you are. But…work has been intense lately, and the move to London, including everything that has to be accomplished before then, has got to have you feeling at least a little anxious.”
I released a breath, massaging the small pinch in my chest. For a moment, just one, it felt like that pinch was somehow rising from wherever it existed, becoming sound, forming words. For a moment I wanted to say, Yes, Dad, yes, I’m anxious and confused and though I’ve never slipped, I feel myself slipping now. But I’d never done that. I didn’t know how to do that. Instead, I answered, “I’ve got a handle on it.”
My dad nodded, and my mom patted my hand. “I’m proud of you,” my dad said. “I couldn’t ask for a better right-hand man.”
Right-hand man.
The term made pride radiate inside me, relieving the pinch, and I sat up a little straighter. All my life, I’d strived to make my parents proud of me, especially my father. I’d joined the clubs he suggested I join, I dominated in the sports he wanted me to play, I’d achieved perfect grades and been admitted to the very best colleges.
I’d been the perfect son.
And then I’d joined the company he’d built from the ground up, working hard and performing above and beyond expectations. Proving that I could be his right-hand man.
The one who would carry on his legacy someday, not only here in the U.S., but abroad in London and eventually other international locations. Because of me, my father’s company would not only thrive, but grow and expand, passed on from father to son, and eventually I’d do the same with my own.
I closed my eyes briefly and attempted to bring back the scent of Blakely’s perfume, but the sensory recall was strangely tinged with an earthy saltiness that belonged to another woman. Jesus. I picked up the menu and attempted to clear my brain completely as I stared unseeing at the list of entrée choices.
“By the way,” my mother said, “speaking of your move, we were supposed to talk about your going-away party. Did you consider the two dates I texted? We’ll need to get invitations out right away if we’re going to give people more than a month’s notice.”
I worked to remember the dates she’d texted over just before I’d gone on that damn guys’ trip that had resulted in an upheaval of my life. Or at least my focus. And now my peace. So get back on track, Buchanan. You’ve never let anyone ruin your peace. Ever. I hardly wanted a going-away party, but the more things to distract me right now, the better. “Remind me of the dates,” I said.
“Well my first choice would be the twelfth,” my mother said. “But—”
“The twelfth is fine. Book it.”
My mother smiled and pulled out her phone. “Wonderful,” she said as she typed into her calendar, I assumed. “And,” my mother said, giving my hand another pat as she set her phone down. “How exciting that you and Blakely are considering a relationship. If it works out between you, perhaps you’ll be a couple by the time the party rolls around. There will be so many things to celebrate.”