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He’s an affable guy, been on the waitlist for membership for about five years.
Since he first signed up, he’s gained about thirty pounds and expanded his manufacturing business across the Atlantic Ocean. Impressive stuff, making him a great candidate forthe Lyons Club.
I can tell he’s impressed from the way he appraises each of the facilities, smile growing larger and larger.
We get to the wine cellar, and his eyes light up. “My wife will like this.”
“Do you have any children? They’ll be grandfathered in once they’re of age.”
“Well, the twins are three right now, so–”
“Ah! You’ve got some time, then.”
Marty grins. “Do you have children?”
“Three. Two boys and a girl. Grown.”
My heart swells.
I didn’t always get this feeling when talking about my kids. Honestly, there was a time when they were a distraction to me. I regret ever feeling that way and I’d never, ever admit it. What kind of father thinks that about their children?
“Grown? You don’t look a day over forty!” Marty slaps me on the back.
It’s unusual for men in my position to have children as young as I did. Most of them wait until they’re in their forties, marry a twenty-something, and call it a day. I’ve never been one to follow trends, though. “Add another ten, and you’re right on the money.”
“What?! No.”
“The gray didn’t give it away?” I brush my fingers through my sideburns.
“Makes you look sophisticated, not old.”
We continue our small talk through the rest of the tour, though the conversation about our children has me feeling bruised.
Any time my mind crosses Nate for just a moment, even if he’s not brought up by name, creates a fog around me that I can’t see past.
Still no word from my son.
Jack and Abigail are trying their best. So are Mason and Seth. Haven’t managed to get through to him, though.
I’d love to speak to him before three years turns into four.
“Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, Lyons. This place is fucking incredible.”
Fuck yes.I know this place is incredible, but it never loses its luster hearing other people think it’s amazing too. “Can I welcome you to the club yet?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Lyons.” Villanueva holds up his hands. “I want to get a handle on how your staff feels about this place.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Sorry?”
“Look, the facilities are all well and good, but…I’m not going to be participating in a club that takes advantage of the little people. You understand?”
It takes a bit of effort, but I keep up my friendly, understanding smile.
On the one hand, I take offense that he’d think I might do that. That’s not what Lyons Club is about. At all.
But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want him anywhere near us if the coin were flipped.
“Of course. Well…” I glance around. “Let me give you audience with our sommelier since you mentioned your wife loves wine. And–” Sonia pops into my head.
