My hand tightens a bit on Avery’s back before she reaches around and links her fingers with mine. A reassuring squeeze follows, and she looks up at me softly as we approach the group. The five other men make room for us to join. My father dismisses them with a nod until it’s just the three of us.
He takes a sip of his drink, preferring to draw out the dramatic pause. He’s always looked younger than his fifty-five years. The gray in his hair is barely visible at his temples, the lines beside his eyes only just present. It makes it hard to look in the mirror some mornings and know exactly what my future will be. He was always so proud as I grew up, because I was a spitting image of him. He would gloat to all his friends about how blessed he was to have another version of himself. His rich friends would laugh along with him.
“Kane, how nice of you to come home. Your mother misses you. Have you seen her?” he provokes as he leans against the railing casually. A false front for the angerradiating from his eyes as he stares at my hand clasped with Avery’s at her side.
My hand tightens on hers as I shift slightly in front of her, as if I can shield her from his words. Her other hand comes up to my bicep, anchoring me to her in this moment. The tension hitches my shoulders up slightly.
“I have. I’ve been busy. School started back after break, and the bar has been busy,” I defend—my mask firmly in place, my voice indifferent toward him. I’m not willing to let him see any of the cracks in my exterior.
“Hmm, yes, the bar. How is the high school thing going?” The disdain is evident in his tone. The tension in the air is so thick I feel as if I can’t take a full breath. The tightening in my chest worsens as I stroke my thumb over Avery’s hand, more to calm myself than her.
The soft scent of lemons from her perfume distracts me, giving me a moment to take a deep breath, clearing some of the black that creeps at the edge of my vision, signaling a panic attack is near. I say nothing as I stare at my father. Knowing him, he doesn’t want a response anyway, so I forgo my rebuttal.
“Avery,” my father grunts, finally acknowledging her presence. He stares at her fully, ignoring me as if I’m not there. He straightens his stance as if to greet her, but one look at me keeps him where he is. My father is built and has always had broad shoulders, but somehow, I came out bigger.
I’m the tallest in my family so far, my shoulders and muscles haven’t stopped growing since I learned my way around a weight room. I was proud of my body. I worked out hard, I played harder. I could have gone further in football and played in college, but every interested team was too far away. Avery’s grades were average, and she needed ascholarship. I offered to pay, but she wouldn’t even entertain the idea. Her parents refused to pay a dime, even though they had more than enough. They said if their daughter wanted something in life, it had to be earned, not given—as if she never earned their love either. So I declined every offer and followed wherever she went.
Football was never my dream anyway, at least not once I met her. Football was never going to give me the future I craved. The recognition, the money, the fame—none of it truly meant anything if I didn’t have her to come home to at the end of the day. She wanted to try long distance, claiming she wanted me to follow my dream, but what she didn’t get was that I did—by being with her. And I have never once regretted that decision. Even now, if this is all we ever have, it will always be enough for me. She willalwaysbe enough for me.
“Mr. D’Antonio, nice to see you again,” Avery replies softly, so small as if she’d rather not be heard. “This is lovely. Elena has truly outdone herself with all of this.”
Avery is not new to this level of wealth, having been here daily during senior year and many times since then, but she is still always in awe that this is someone’s house—whereas this is all I’ve ever known.
“Yes, she did,” my dad agrees, his expression slowly softening at the sound of my mother’s name.
While I never knew if my father loved me, I did know he always loved her. He gave her whatever she wanted in life, except for fidelity. He showers her with the most lavish houses, vacations, every diamond and gift she could ask for. He gives her his full attention when he is home. A love story that could almost seem like a dream—yet in every city we’ve been to, it hasn’t been enough. My mother has truly never been enough for him, and neither have I.
“Kane, we need to talk about what’s next,” my father declares as he takes a sip of his scotch, the glass nearing empty. His third or fourth, I can conclude by the faint smell when he talks. My father has never been one to stop at just one drink, overindulging in every aspect of his life.
“There is nothing left to discuss,” I spit back, gripping Avery’s hand harder. I get us ready to turn and leave if needed. A small look of confusion crosses her face at my father’s words. “We talked. I said no. End of discussion.”
“It is not the end of the discussion. You are a D’Antonio, and you will do as expected. This little rebellion you have going on: the school, your little job, her?—”
“Hername is Avery,” I cut in. “And like I said, it is not up for discussion. I would choose your next words very carefully, because if you speak one word against her, this will be the last time we speak at all.”
Avery’s hand tightens in mine. Her other hand grabs the back of my shirt to anchor me as I stare at my father, unflinching. Steam practically pours from his ears at the way I speak to him, especially with someone else present.
He speaks of her as if she’s just some phase he’s waiting for me to grow out of. The future—hopefully—mother of my children somehow reduced to a mere inconvenience in his mind. He’s unhappy not getting what he wants. He demands I marry the daughter of some business partner of his choosing, training under him and following him around, ready to take the reins of the family business.
My wants and needs have always been ignored when it came down to business.
“Oh, there you two are!” I turn my head to see my mother striding over to us, ignoring the tension swirling in the air. My shoulders relax as a smile appears on my father’s face, not quite reaching his eyes, as my mother sidles up tohim, always trying to be the peacekeeper between us. “Dinner is about to be served. Are you ready?”
I turn with Avery’s hand in mine and lead her away from them, no excuses given, as I head back toward the table. I try not to pull Avery behind me, so I slow my pace until she can catch up and walk side-by-side with me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
avery
Exile – Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)
We’re sitting at the table, the soft sounds of metal against glass filling the space around us as dinner is served. Elena opted for a shorter dinner this time, with just one main course. I try to eat my food slowly, but my hunger is obvious after the long day I’ve had. I forgot lunch when things got away from me.
I glance at Kane out of the corner of my eye, his food barely touched. He’s pushed things around his plate with his fork, but it’s a stark contrast to my already half-eaten meal. I take a sip of my water and set it down when I see Kane turn his body toward mine.
Since the showdown with his father by the gardens, Kane has been quiet. As usual, he’s working some small problem out in his head instead of talking to me. I try to tamp down the hurt and understand how he might be feeling. I try to be grateful he wanted me here at all. I know I can’t force him to talk to me, but I thought we were making some progress. Maybe not quite ready to fix our relationship,but maybe ready to be friends. A way to co-exist in the same space.
I was shocked when Kane agreed to this charade. He isn’t all that close with his parents, but I thought it would be something he told them. So when he admitted what happened, my heart leaped. A small kindling of hope started in my chest and stayed there all week. It had me reaching for my phone so many times to ask him why he never told them.
