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“You think that’s the wrong decision.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t have to.”
I turn the chess board around so the white pieces are in front of her and dig into the box of crackers. A peace offering. “One more game?”
“Agree to disagree about the other thing, then sure.”
We set it up, and she makes her opening. I follow with a standard counter.
A few moves later, we’re locked into another battle, and neither of us has an advantage. I’ve only captured five of her pawns, and she has one rook, a knight, and two of my pawns. Statistically, we’re about even.
“So why are you taking bad advice and running away from your company right when you should be there doing damage control?” she asks. It’s the same strategy she used on me earlier, interrupting my thought process with a question and taking control of the board. But this time, I see it coming and try to ignore the words.
It’s hard because I want to know why she thinks the advice is bad, but I also want to win the game.
Now that she’s turned the tables to my problems, I feel a lot less like talking.
So I drink more of the wine from my glass and look around the kitchen for some other task to occupy me. I find nothing. “I have a person who said I should let things blow over and wait until people find the next thing to obsess about.”
“Who is this person?”
“He does what you do, I guess.”
“Yeah. Not very well.” I’m grateful she seems to have found her feisty energy, but I’m not looking to trade talking about her problems for talking about mine right now. But she seems smart and capable, so I’m also curious about her observations.
“What would you do differently?”
She looks me straight in the eye, and there’s no hesitation, no minced words. “I’d quit hiding and get out in public. Showing people that you’re human—showing them that the handsome, brilliant billionaire is imperfect sometimes—will make you relatable. Maybe the way you said it wasn’t smart, but you obviously had something you wanted to say. Be contrite and honest, and people will love you for it. That’s what I’d do.”
As soon as she says the words, she leans back in her chair, seeming unburdened by telling me the truth.
Mirroring her movements, I lean back in my own chair and try convincing myself she’s got it all wrong.
But I can’t. She may be the first person in my life who sees me clearly.
Chapter
Seven
PJ
“You didwhat?” Archer’s voice isn’t quiet. Each word booms from his chest like he swallowed a subwoofer.
I don’t really think he expects me to repeat what he’s just heard, but I do it anyway. “I had him sleep on my couch.” And he slept all right, like a felled tree. Even with the noise of my smoothie in the blender, he didn’t budge. I had to shake him awake, pull up a map of Napa on his phone, and escort him out the door on my way to work.
I felt rude for not inviting him to lounge around for as long as he’d like, but I barely slept after all his racket and four games of chess, so my mood this morning is not exactly bright.
I glare at my brother. “If you’d been reachable, I’d have sent him to your house. Do you turn off your phone at night?”
“Um, yeah. It’s the only way I get any peace.”
“Okay, well, this is what happens when your friend disruptsmypeace.” I tap my pencil on the table. It’s an old habit that drives my family crazy, but I can’t help it. Archer’s glare shifts from my face to the pencil, but I don’t stop tapping it.
“You could have driven him to my place.”
“You could’ve left your phone on. And I have a perfectly good couch where he didn’t seem to mind sleeping all night. When I last saw him, he was pulling on hiking boots and heading up toward the peak.”
