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Christine is still smiling when she sips her wine. “You know, I should make a calendar this year for Christmas. Ma would love it. I could sell them online. The half-naked photos could be June, just in time for your birthday.”
“Shut it,” I growl. “Don’t even think about making a calendar.”
She laughs and takes a bite of her tortellini. She gets it every time we come here, and it never fails to remind me of when we were kids. Mom working two jobs, Dad coming home late. How many times did I put Christine to bed? I made her tortellini with butter on the nights she missed our parents. She’s always been the soft one compared to me, and I intend for her life to be good and happy. She deserves it. Which is where Callie Thompson comes in.
“I have a plan,” I say after a few moments of eating in silence. “That reporter is going to help me get back at Dylan.” And she’s going to suffer for invading my privacy. I have plans for Callie Thompson. I’m not getting into that with Christine, though.
“How?” Christine raises a brow.
“I’m going to hire her and use her to get close to him.” Make her serve my every need. The thought of revenge against Callie is a pleasant buzz through my body. “She can dig up information. She has a connection to him. Maybe I can even get him to hire her and funnel information back to me. She could plant false information about Kings Lane, and I could sue Dylan for libel later.” Christine looks skeptical, but I know Dylan Green. “He’s always wanted what I have. I just need to dangle her in front of him, and he’ll bite.” My lips curve at the thought of him falling for Callie’s big blue eyes. He’s a covetous bastard. One glance at her with me, and he’ll be panting to hire her.
“I don’t think this is the right path.” Christine sighs. “I want you to be happy, not obsessed with revenge.”
Happy. I don’t bother telling my sister that this is as close to happiness as I’m going to get. Work. Revenge. More work. The way I prefer it.
I ignore her and she gives me a pointed look. “Ma has been asking about you. You missed dinner last Sunday. Even Dad started complaining.” She raises a black brow. Complaining is unusual for my easygoing father. My mother? Not so much.
“I’ve been busy.” It’s the truth, though I’m no busier than usual. You’re a bad son, my conscience whispers. I rub at my temples, where a headache is starting behind my left eye.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s the same excuse every time. You have to be there for family, J.”
“Don’t start,” I say shortly. “I am there for you. But you know how our parents are.” They’re always asking when I’m going to settle down, trying to set me up on dates with their friends’ daughters. My mom still thinks I might move back to New Jersey. I’d rather eat glass.
Christine winces slightly. “I know. We miss you, though. Mia misses you.”
I snort. “Mia does not miss me.” My sister’s wife and I get along as well as we can, which is to say, a careful state of détente.
“I had to try.” Christine grins unrepentantly, but her smile fades. “I worry about you, J. Everything is falling into place for me, but I don’t want you to be left behind.”
My chest pinches. “You deserve it. Don’t worry about me. You have enough on your plate. The baby, your new job. Oh, and it’s not too late to divorce Mia. I know a really good divorce lawyer, I swear.” I change the subject and she rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She’s used to me ribbing her about her wife, and she knows I love her too much to care who she married.
We finish and pay. I leave a generous tip for Silvio, who always makes space for me, even when it’s busy. Christine gives me shit about the fact that I’m thinking about heading back to the office, and I nag her about why she insists on driving her awful, old Mustang.
“I love that car,” she protests, as she shrugs back into her jacket.
“You need something safer for the baby. I told you that. Let me get you something more reliable.” I’m already pulling out my phone to email George.
“Relax, J. Mia has one of those big SUVs with all the safety features. I don’t think a car seat would even fit in the Mustang.”
“Let me just get you something newer. It could even be another Mustang.” Like hell it will be. I button my overcoat against the cool night on the other side of the glass.
She shakes her head and pushes open the door into the crisp air. “Stop worrying, J.”
“I don’t worry.”
She grins and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Try to be happy, okay? Less revenge, more walks in the park.”
I snort and hug her goodbye. Not fucking likely.
5
Callie
A few mornings after my confrontation with Jonah, my dad and I exit the subway at Columbus Circle, and shoulder past tourists on our way to 57th Street.
My dad hasn’t given me much information, but he was approached by an investor this week. We’re on our way to the meeting now.
“Just tell me where we’re going,” I say.
