Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Walsh touched his shoulder lightly, testing. Martin stiffened, seeming to remember that he was not alone. He pulled his face out of his hands, swiping his cheeks and struggling for a composure he just couldn’t seem to regain. His face crumpled again, his mouth opening on a soundless wail. Walsh wrapped his arms fully around his father, still prepared to straighten and pull away if necessary. But his father leaned against him, his tall, muscular frame shaking with the tears he could no longer hold back.
Martin finally pulled himself to his full height, peering at his son, searching his eyes. Was he looking for judgment? Any sign of lost respect? He wouldn’t find it. If anything, Walsh had finally found something in his father truly worthy of his respect.
“I kept this house”—Martin shoved his hands into his pockets and paced back toward the window and the now nearly darkened street—“because I thought one day we’d live here again together.”
Walsh almost laughed. Not from humor, but the dry, angry bark of a child needlessly cheated of so much. His parents had been stubborn, blind, and madly in love. And had never been able to get their shit together long enough to reconcile.
“You had a funny way of showing it,” Walsh said before he could stop himself, hating the wince his words caused on his father’s face. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“No, you’re right. She had her charities and I had my business and we just let the years go by.”
“Was that all?” Walsh’s voice hardened without his consent. “You don’t think it had anything to do with your infidelity?”
His father looked back at Walsh, a patina of shame coating his eyes.
“I guess I have to take credit for that. That thing in you that kicks when someone’s down.”
“I’m sorry.” Walsh exhaled the anger that had dogged him for years whenever he was around his father. “I just wish things could have been different.”
“No, you’re right. It was only the one time, but she couldn’t forgive me and I couldn’t set my pride aside long enough to beg her to.” Martin pulled the small bag back out, stroking the rope. “I have to live the rest of my life knowing I could have had your mother back, that she loved me and that I loved her, and we didn’t try.”
Martin rearranged his features with efficiency back into their customary impassivity.
“So, this house has to go. I just wanted you to know.”
“It doesn’t feel right.” Walsh rubbed the toe of his shoe over a nick in the hardwood floor.
“From a purely business perspective, I’d get a massive return.” Martin ran his eyes over the expensive paneling and the high ceilings. “When we moved here, TriBeCa hadn’t exploded the way it has now. It’s gone up, down, and back up again since we bought it.”
“But it’s not purely business. You held on to this house all these years, saving it for when Mom would come back. You just cried your eyes out over a fifty-dollar ring. I know your secret now, Dad. You’re sentimental.”
“Don’t be fooled.” Martin crooked his mouth to one side, shifting his legs into his buccaneer’s stance. “I don’t have much time for sentiment right now. I have to focus on wrapping up our friend the sheikh.”
Walsh went on high alert at the mention of the account he’d abandoned to remain near Kerris after the accident.
“I thought Miller was sewing that up.”
“He missed a stitch or two.” A hint of contempt deepened Martin’s voice. “That boy. He’s brilliant, and hungry, but sometimes he’s so busy measuring his own dick he misses the little things.”
“His dick is a little thing.” Walsh amused himself with his own crassness, and was surprised when his father laughed aloud, slapping him on the back.
“That’s pretty good,” Martin said, still smiling. “Look, I’ll hold off on selling the house, and maybe you should come with me. You know Kassim better than all of us now, and he likes you. He asked me how your friend was doing last time I spoke to him. I didn’t know you’d hijacked his jet to fly to Rivermont.”
“Yeah, and in the middle of the night. Looking back, I can’t believe my own balls on that one.”
“Guess you get those from me, too.” Martin’s face was straight, but his eyes held a crooked twinkle.
Walsh laughed, trying to remember when he and his father had joked this much. Maybe never.
“So what do you say?” Martin persisted. “You coming to Saudi or what?”
“Why not?” Walsh shrugged one broad shoulder. “Beats moping around the city.”
“What do you have to mope about?”
“Nothing, it’s just…well, Cam and Kerris are getting a divorce.”
“Seems like that would be cause for celebration.” A puzzled frown sketched Martin’s forehead.
“I don’t feel much like celebrating since she won’t see me.” Walsh sat on a step of the staircase. “I’m giving her a year.”