“Hang on, let me put you on speaker. Bran and I are just getting drinks at the Lobby bar.” He heard crystal glasses clink, and then Pat said, “Okay. Bran’s here.”
Hugh didn’t say anything, he’d learned years ago that silence usually moved conversations along. He could hear muffled whispering. They were probably arguing with who would say what first. He heard the word ‘oldest’ and then a fist meeting flesh followed by a groan. Patrick must have pulled the ‘you’re the oldest card,’ and Bran punched him. Their antics might have made him teary-eyed if he weren’t irritated at having to discuss his decisions.
“Dad, are you still there?” Bran asked.
“Obviously.”
“We got your email, and…and weboththink it’s absolute bullshit that you left without talking to us in person.”
“It was.” Silence. The kids must have thought he would argue. He didn’t want to argue, which was why he’d left without a goodbye.
“But,” Patrick began, sounding exasperated, “we agreed last year, less actually, that we were sticking together.”
“I know you didn’t forget the conversation, Dad. You don’t forget a fucking thing.” Bran sounded frustrated. “I get making arun to Oklahoma, of course. We both get that, but you’re leaving us for who knows how long.”
“It’s always been the three of us together. Bran and I aren’t fucking toddlers, I get that, but since we’ve been adults, you’ve been our dadandour best friend.”
Okay, Hugh wasn’t expecting the boys to make this conversation so hard. His body burned with excess emotion. The truth was, they were his best friends too. Hugh pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the strong emotions attempting an escape.
“I explained my reasons in the email.”
“There’s only one real reason. At least be honest about that,” Bran pushed.
“Fine. One reason.”
“Dad, I think there’s something you should?—”
Whatever Patrick was about to say was cut off by more thuds and groans. Good Lord, his sons could try a saint’s patience, and Hugh was no fucking saint. Hearing a glass break was the last straw.
“Boys!” Hugh barked over the speaker. Silence reigned. Good. “I have better things to do with my time than listening to your ridiculous tantrums. I might reconsider how long I’ll be staying, but I won’t be pushed. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Now clean up the fucking glass from the bar before one of your wives gets cut. And boys, that better not have been one of my Rene Lalique’s.”
“Oh shit.”
“Fuck.”
Sighing, Hugh hung up and went in search of his mother. He was smiling, though. Bran and Patrick. “Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation as he shut the door behind him.
9
Hugh rang the doorbell of his mother’s suite and was about to lightly knock when the door was pulled open. Tina, his mother’s assistant, answered with a wide smile. She must have known it was Hugh from the security camera. She was loaded down with dresses and dress bags.
“Good morning, Tina.” He reached for some of the dresses to relieve the weight from her arm. “Let me take some of these for you before you fall under the weight of my mom’s excessive shopping.”
Tina laughed and allowed him to take several. “Thank you, Hugh. Just lay them on the dining room table. That’s where I was headed when you rang the bell and, in my rush, I brought them with me to greet you,” she laughed at herself. “Matilda will be out as soon as she’s dressed. A warning, Hugh,” Tina laughed, “expect an earful about not calling before stopping byandfor not warning her that you were back home.”
“I’m smart enough to let mom have her say. She always forgives me,” Hugh smiled at the older woman. Tina had been with his mom for years. She had been an accountant for O’Faolain, and when she’d put in her resignation, Hugh hadcalled her in and asked her if she was unhappy with their company.
She admitted that she and her husband had just gotten a divorce. He’d cheated on her, and she wanted a fresh start. Her children were grown with homes of their own, and she wanted something for herself that didn’t hold any reminders of her life before the divorce. He’d offered a position as his mother’s assistant, without asking his mother first, but once the two women met, his mom forgave him his ‘presumption,’ and Tina never regretted the career change.
“Why is mom getting rid of these clothes?”
“These clothes, you fashion ogre, are evening dresses that I chose for Rowan to try on. I admit, her tastes are much more conservative for someone her age. Though the ones she did end up keeping are stunning. But anything would look lovely on...”
