Preston rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. He threw his hand in the air, giving me a peace sign.
I rushed through the shower, feeling marginally more human by the time I arrived at the airport. I may have looked sharp—my suit was freshly cleaned, my blond hair still wet from the shower. But I felt like shit.
Just a few more weeks of this cross-country nonsense, and then I’d be back in LA for good.
Dad barely glanced at me over the top of his laptop as I boarded the plane. “Cutting it a little close.”
He was seated in one of the oversized leather chairs, glasses on, coffee steaming. He looked ready for a photo op at any minute, though that was nothing new. He was always “on.” I wondered if he was as lonely as I was—surrounded by people, but never truly connecting.
I’d come to the realization lately that apart from Kate and Preston, I didn’t have any meaningful relationships. My parents were…shallow, obsessed with appearances. My dad always had been, and always would be, focused on one person—himself. And my mother was just as bad.
I sank into the chair diagonal from him as the crew finalized the preparations for takeoff. I leaned my head back against the buttery leather of the headrest, thankful for the sunglasses shielding my eyes.
“Late night?” Dad mused. He seemed to be speaking loudly, or maybe that was just my brain shouting at me. Though I got the feeling it was a bit of both.
I was getting too old for this shit. I nodded, grateful he decided to stay quiet through takeoff.
It wasn’t until after we’d reached cruising altitude that he asked, “Isn’t the playboy routine getting a little old?” His voice carried over the roar of the engines.
The flight attendant flashed me a smile, bending over to give me a perfect view of her cleavage as she asked what I’d like to drink. I kept my eyes firmly on hers as I smiled. She was beautiful. Great rack. But I wasn’t interested.
“I’ll take a scotch, please.” Hair of the dog and whatnot. But mostly, I’d said it to piss him off.
“He’ll have a water,” my father interjected, always trying to control me.
It didn’t matter that I was a twenty-seven-year-old man with my own successful business, my own life. He always had to be in control. It was…nauseating. Suffocating.
“You’ve had your fun, Hunter. But maybe it’s time to start thinking of settling down.” It was stated so simply, as if he were inquiring what I’d like for dinner.
I choked on my water—Thanks, Dad—dabbing at my mouth with the napkin before setting it aside. “Where is this coming from?”
I didn’t particularly feel like making conversation, especially not with my father. But apparently, he hadn’t gotten that memo.
He rubbed a hand over his forehead, and he suddenly seemed so weary. So old. “My campaign manager.”
I tried to check my eye roll. Dad was a California senator, but he had his sights set on the White House. For most of my life, it was all he’d talked about, all he’d thought about—the chance to one day become President of the United States. I admired his aspirations but not when they interfered with my life.
This wasn’t the first time either. I could easily recall a number of occasions where he wanted me to date a certain girl, eat at a certain restaurant, or do something else that would help advance his career. It was always about him.
“Settle down? I’m not even seeing someone.” I barely committed to a woman for more than one night, let alone… I swallowed.Forever.
“That can be changed.” His tone was ominous. “And perhaps should be in light of recent events.”
“Recent events?” I asked, wondering what he was alluding to.
“Your little friend with the sticky fingers?”
Shit.I should’ve known his silence on the matter didn’t indicate a lack of knowledge. He’d simply been biding his time, waiting for the right moment to bring up the incident. Had I really thought he wouldn’t find out? He had a PI on call, for Christ’s sake.
But he was acting like I was responsible when she’d robbed me. I was the victim here.
“How could I have known she would steal from me?”
He waved a hand through the air, ever imperious. “Further evidence of your poor choices when it comes to women.”
I wondered if he was going to try to broker a deal about my future. It wouldn’t be the first time, though I got the impression he was more serious than ever.
I closed my eyes, trying to drown out the incessant hum of the engines, massaging my temples to ease the pressure building there.
