by Celeste, B.
Everett / 27
June is a whirlwind of business proposals made by half-ass companies that waste more of our time than it’s worth, but Robert wants to expand the business past its usual routes. We’ve already tripled our profit, and all the employees have gotten raises, even the interns. More money means more power, and I’m not sure I’m on the same page as him about it since I’ll be the one running everything when Robert decides to retire.
It’s not the business I’m worried about right now. Thankfully, Robert has never spoken of retirement, though I’m sure Bridgette would like him to consider it. He’s still got time, plenty of it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t pass by quickly. Then where does that leave me? In charge of a corporation I don’t think I can run on my own.
That I don’t want to run on my own.
There’s a lot of shit I don’t want to do that I settle with. I’ll accept the company and responsibility, because I don’t hate it. I’ve shadowed Robert for the past seven years and grown quite close with some of the people who work with him. Especially those who worked with my father when the two first opened the doors here. I bring baked goods to Betty, the receptionist downstairs, and in return she gives me advice. Mostly unsolicited.
The morning after Isabel closed the bedroom door on me, I came to work on three hours of sleep. Issy left before I ever woke, and I was worried until her father informed me she was at the guest house. He was eerily calm considering he’d just demanded I propose to her, which made it all the more unnerving to me.
As soon as Betty saw the bags under my eyes she started tsking. “You are simply too young to be this lost, boy. Your father wouldn’t want you looking like the walking dead, now would he?”
But how am I supposed to know what my father would want? My memories are limited to him rubbing my hair after coming home from work and showing me how to hold a pair of scissors. He died before I could really learn anything about him.
That morning, Betty went into the little kitchenette area and poured me a cup of coffee. I already drank one cup on the way to the office but needed more to wake up.
“You’re just like him, you know,” she tells me, taking her seat at her desk again. “I know how much being there for people means to you, because it meant the world to him. But you know what meant more? Happiness.”
Betty seems to know a lot, more than I give her credit for. Ever since she told me that, I’ve kept it with me. My father was said to be a lot like his parents, and my grandparents always reminded me of the importance of keeping my word when I promise something, of helping the people who need it most. Betty is right, my parents would both want me to be happy more, and I’d like to think some promises are worth amending if it means getting there.
That night, I asked Isabel to dinner. The pressed black dress she wore was tight, short, and paired with the kind of jewelry that I imagine a ring would look great with. But I had to crush those expectations between the appetizer and entrée. Telling her that I wasn’t going to marry her went about as well as expected.
There was yelling, lots of yelling, in the middle of Undercover East. People stared and whispered and the waitstaff had to ask us to leave. But not before I told her I’d stay at the cabin while she collected her things from the apartment. She needed her space, and I was more than willing to give that to her.
“You said you’d be there for me!”
“This is me being there for you, Issy.”
“Don’t fucking call me that, Everett!”
She always preferred it when I called her Issy. It makes sense that she refuses that type of familiarity with me now.
“You deserve to be happy, Isabel.”
“What if I am?”
But we both knew she wasn’t. Isn’t.
When the staff asked us to leave, Isabel followed me out of the restaurant and shoved my shoulders back as soon as we hit the sidewalk. Names were called, names I damn well deserved, and tears were shed. That shit killed me, still kills me. Issy only ever cried the day at the hospital when the doctor told her she miscarried.
I promised her I’d be there, that she’d never lose me like she lost our child, and I plan on keeping my word. She’ll always have me, as a friend, as a memory, as someone to count on, she just needs to get past this—to move on.
True to my word, I’ve been staying at the cabin for the past two weeks. I don’t call or check up on Isabel, because I know she won’t reply if I do reach out. I know her after all these years, which means I also know the fight she’ll put up until the final nail is in the coffin.
A knock on my office door has me snapping out of la-la-land and glancing up at the two men standing with firm faces. Robert’s isn’t as tight as Blake Allen’s, but neither of them look particularly happy. Though I’m sure Robert’s displeasure has to do with Mr. Allen’s appearance here, since the two don’t get along. They’re practically rivals, which is why the break from Isabel is almost therapeutic for me. I know Blake’s end game of getting me as a son-in-law includes clawing his way into JT Corporation, and he doesn’t deserve it.
It seems fitting that we’re both losing shit we spent years building. I’m sure Issy thinks I don’t care about her at all, but that’s the farthest thing from the truth. I do love her, just not the way I should have. Once she finally detaches her claws, then she’ll be able to experience the soul-burning kind of love that will surely consume her.
“Gentlemen,” I greet, staying seated behind my desk. Dropping my interlocked fingers into my lap, I lean back in my office chair. It creaks under my weight. “What can I do you for?”
Robert clears his throat, nudging past Blake’s tense form. “Betty tried getting Mr. Allen to understand that he had no business coming here, but he insisted it was important that he see you. If you’d like, I can call security.”
Blake’s eyes narrow, wrinkling at the corners. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Robert? This matter doesn’t concern you, though.”
Robert simply shrugs. “I imagine not, but I can’t see why it’s so vital you have to storm into my company.”
Clearing my throat, I wave my hand in dismissal. “It’s fine, Robert. Mr. Allen and I can talk. I’m in between meetings at the moment. Apologize to Betty for me.”
Robert shoots one last suspicious glance at Blake before closing my office door behind him. Truthfully, I’m surprised it has taken this long before we encountered each other.
“I gave you a ring for a reason, Mr. Tucker,” Blake begins, sauntering to the front of my desk and bending over it, so he’s in my personal space. “You can’t expect me to keep my mouth closed after wasting ten years of my life on you.”
His angry tone and spat words make me laugh, but he obviously doesn’t see the humor in them. “Don’t you mean your daughter, sir? She’s the one who’s stayed by my side for ten years, not you.”
He slams his palm against the edge of my desk, nearly knocking off a snow globe with the Golden Gate Bridge in it. Rescuing the keepsake River brought me back from her trip to California, I carefully place it out of his reach.
“There’s no need for violence here,” I inform him plainly.
“Then don’t bullshit me, boy,” he growls back, fingers clenching the edge of the wood desktop. His knuckles are turning white and his face is red. I momentarily consider taking up Robert’s offer on calling security.
But I deserve this, in a way.
“You never loved my daughter.”
“That isn’t true at all.” Unlike him, I keep my voice level. There’s no point poking the fire and making everyone in hearing distance know my current situation. “I love Isabel very much, which is why I hope she finds someone who will make her happy. And, to be honest, you have no right to defend her. You only care about the benefits you’ll get from the person you tie her to.”
His dark eyes narrow in on me, and they remind me of Issy’s when I say something stupid. “So what? Do you honestly think my parents cared about finding true love
for me? This is a business world where you fight to survive. You can’t make it if you don’t connect with the right people.”
Scoffing, I stand to his level. “It’s a new world, Mr. Blake. Isabel shouldn’t have to be tied to anybody unless she wants to be. We both know that we were never good for each other.”
“Funny,” he growls, “you didn’t seem to think of that when you knocked up the little slut.”
I’m in front of him before he can even blink, but he doesn’t flinch from our sudden closeness. The tips of my Nordstrom brown leather shoes are pressed against his cheap knockoffs. I’m usually not one to throw around my money, but for someone who talks big about what money can buy, he isn’t spending it.
“Tell me, Mr. Blake,” I bargain, “how does it make you feel that somebody half your age is more powerful than you? You must be hellbent on building yourself up by any means necessary to use your daughter’s darkest days against me in an argument that doesn’t truly have anything to do with her. Or are you just heartless? Do you not care that you lost a grandchild? Maybe a little boy who you could have taught the business to or a little girl to fucking protect against assholes like you and me.”
Scoffing, I straighten up to full height, which gives me a few inches on him. “You may think that the pregnancy was some big mistake, and maybe you’re sadistic enough to be happy it didn’t work out, but I will never let you fucking talk about your daughter or unborn grandchild like that again without at least one of your front teeth missing. Is that understood?”
He’s seething now, nostrils flaring and eyes darker than they’ve ever been. The devil is in this man. Driven by greed and all six other deadly sins. “You’ll always just be trash with money who never deserved her.”
Flattening my white dress shirt, I give him an indifferent shrug. He’s using words, tactics to piss me off. It won’t work. “Neither one of us deserves to have Isabel in our lives. Unlike you, I’m man enough to admit it. Just like I can admit that I may be garbage, but you’ll always be a superficial, heartless jackass who can’t see past a goddamn dollar sign. Now, you best be leaving before I do call security. I’m sure your reputation would take a hit if pictures of you being forcefully removed from the premises were published.”
His jaw ticks. “Isabel used to tell me that you were different than the other men,” he drawls, stepping back. “Turns out, she doesn’t know you at all. My, how money changes people.”
“You don’t know me at all, Mr. Blake.”
An evil grin slices his face. “I know your father would be disappointed.”
With that, he walks toward the door and steps out before I can even think of a reply.
Dropping into my seat, I scrub my palm across my face. Picking up the snow globe, I shake it and watch the glitter freefall in the fluid. I’m lost in thought, of wondering if the dickhead could be right, when another knock sounds from my door.
“Your father would be proud,” Robert says, walking in with his hands in his beige pants pockets. He notes the snow globe I’m holding and then sits down. “Let me ask you something, son. What’s the real reason you’re letting go of Isabel?”
My lips part and hands withdraw from the globe. “What do you mean?”
His shoulders raise. “It could be as simple as what you say; that you want her to be happy. I don’t doubt that for a second. But anyone who dedicates ten years to a person must have a bigger reason than that.”
I’m in love with your daughter.
Wetting my lips, I heave out a heavy sigh and palm my tired eyes. It feels like I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in months because of everything that’s gone on.
“Blake Allen has taught her to believe that true love isn’t real,” I answer carefully. “I want her to see that isn’t true. Just because her parents are stuck in a loveless marriage doesn’t mean she has to be.”
“And that’s what it’d be for you two? A loveless marriage?” He rests easily in the chair, one leg crossed over the other with his hands resting on his stomach.
“Yes,” I breathe audibly.
He clicks his tongue. “I’ve seen how you look at her, but I’ve also seen how you act around her. One is vastly different than the other, driven by two very different things. I may be old, but I know the difference between lust and love. Can’t say I’m surprised by the inevitable, but also not sure I understand it.”
Breathing is suddenly difficult, and I know it’s because my guilt is sitting on my chest like an anchor. The truth is between us, lingering in the air until I silently suffocate. My lungs burn as I force even breaths, because Robert can’t find out this way that I love River or how far I’ve crossed the line in my relationship.
“Is there somebody else?”
His question stops my breathing altogether. I can’t correct the shock of it before he notices my widened eyes, and I can only hope he can’t read the rest of my emotions; the shame, the desperation, the torture.
He tips his head once. “Thought so. I know you didn’t ask for any advice, but you’re like a son to me, so I’m going to give it to you anyway. Whoever you truly love needs to wait until you can give her every piece of you. It won’t be fair to you, her, or Isabel if you offer what you have now, because that isn’t much. Love … it’s a precious thing. If you feel like you’ve found the real deal, then I’ll stand behind you in any way possible. Just do me a favor.”
Emotion crackles my words. “What?”
“Treat her well.”
He walks away, leaving me staring at the empty chair he occupied.
30
River / 23
David picks me up at ten o’clock to take a two-hour drive to his niece’s birthday party. The normal date it was scheduled for was cancelled because his niece came down with a cold, so they’re throwing it today instead. I considered making an excuse, any excuse, as to why I couldn’t go. But the idea of leaving Bridgeport for a little while seemed like a good idea.
Now we’re halfway to a small town I’ve never heard of with some 80’s rock band filling the silence between us but doing nothing to ease my nerves. I try focusing on the lyrics, but they don’t keep me from biting down on all my nails until they’re just gross, ragged shards.
David told me the party is princess-themed, because his five-year-old niece is into Disney royalty. When I asked if I should get her a present, he told me not to bother. But showing up empty handed with no food or a gift seemed like a bad first impression, so I opted to get her a little charm bracelet that I found at a thrift shop. It has pink, white, and silver charms on it, all girly things like crowns, makeup, and shoes. Honestly, I don’t know if she’ll like it, but from what David told me, she won’t hate it.
He brought an Asian dish that’s his mother’s favorite recipe, spicy chicken with vegetables, I think. Thankfully, neither of his parents will be there. It doesn’t ease my anxiety over meeting the rest of his family though.
When he pulls over for gas and something to drink, I slide out and meet him inside. My sweet tooth is ten times worse when I’m nervous. Bridgette says she’s the same way and that I fit in with our family of stress eaters.
Walking down the candy aisle, my fingers graze over a packet of plain M&M’s in the cardboard holder. Biting down on my bottom lip, I remember the first time Everett bought me a pack of them, then all the candy bars after. Suddenly, I don’t want candy anymore.
By the time I pick out a bottle of water and bag of pretzels from the next aisle over, David is inside snatching up his own snacks for the road. He doesn’t have a sweet tooth like me from what I’ve noticed. Sometimes he’ll order cake or pie if we’re eating somewhere, but he mostly chooses healthier alternatives or just steals pieces of my sugar stash.
After we’re buckled in and ready to finish our journey to his sister’s house, I shift in my seat with my hand buried in my pretzel bag. “What does your sister think I am to you?”
He glances at me for a moment, a shy little smile curving his lip
s. “I told her we’re friends, but …” I wait for him to finish. “But, uh, I think she suspects it’s more.”
My hand stills around a pretzel. “Is it?”
His eyes snap to mine in surprise before returning to the road. We’re surrounded by highway and trees and off to the side in the distance are buildings. Maybe houses. Maybe businesses. “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if it were more, but I won’t pressure you into anything that you don’t want.”
Inhaling slowly, I sink into the seat cushion a little deeper. “We haven’t really done couple things.”
He chuckles softly. “I think we go out more than Emma and Luke do.”
“But we never hold hands,” I blurt. My cheeks heat up at my outburst. Why would I point that out? I’m not sad that he doesn’t hold my hand or make moves on me. Besides a few cheek kisses or lingering hugs, there’s nothing more between us.
I’m okay with that, I think. We’re not dating, so there aren’t expectations. Deep down, I guess my subconscious is demanding certainty. Like if David is going to be someone I invest my time in, I should know what it means.
But it shouldn’t be considered an investment, like it can be lost.
“River?”
I startle. “Y-Yeah?”
He rubs his jaw. “I, uh, asked if you wanted us to be official. You know, like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
The car becomes too quiet. The radio is turned down, so not even music can fill the gap between us right now.
He blows out a breath. “It’s fine, really. I wasn’t really sure if you were inter—”
My eyes widen at his reading of my silence. “No! I mean, yes, I’m interested. But it’s complicated, David. I like you and think you’re fun to hang out with.”
“And if I held your hand?” he asks, his lips curving up in a teasing smile.
“I … I wouldn’t pull away.”
Something flashes in his eyes. “Slow.”
My head jerks back. “What?”