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I didn’t think that was the way marriages should be decided. Parker knew my philosophy on marriage. He witnessed the same kind of arranged bullshit I did. But bringing it up now would only be a punch to the gut. I kept my mouth shut. The truth was I didn’t know Chelsea well. Maybe she was the perfect woman for him. They’d been sleeping together a few months. I didn’t want to ask the obvious. Was he sure it was his baby?
The Bastions had money. Old money. New money. Loads of money. Parker was a target just like the rest of us.
“I wish you the best, brother.” I held my pint in the air. He grinned.
“Thanks. You’ll be my best man, won’t you?”
I didn’t choke this time, but I wasn’t ready for more commitment. “Fuck yeah. I’ll be your best man.”
We sat outside and drank another round. I left when I knew I could slide into the end of the Castilles’s dinner party. I paid for the drinks as a congratulations gift and took off. Every stop I made me feel more lost. More distant. More remote from the people in my life. The distance was gaping. The trajectories of our lives had become divergent. And there was no fucking way to pull that back together.
11
Kennedy
“I want you to look at these.” A folder fell into my lap. I glanced at my father. He was dressed casually today. It was Saturday. A polo and khakis made him look like he was outfitted for yard work. He rarely budged from his Italian suits.
“What?”
“Numbers on last quarter,” he explained before walking away. “Go over them and I’ll see you in my office in an hour to discuss how we can project the fourth quarter. Take notes. Have them ready.”
“Really?”
“Financials aren’t something I joke about.” His eyes were softer than his voice, but I knew to take him seriously.
“Of course not.” I pressed my lips together. “I’ll meet you in an hour.”
I didn’t argue, but I stared at the back of my father’s head as he disappeared from the living room. I was watching a marathon of Choose Cheer before he interrupted. I pressed the mute button on the remote and flipped open the file. The spreadsheets were clipped together. I began to leaf through them.
I’d never seen his profit and loss statements before. Why now?
I sorted the reports into stacks. I only had an hour to make sense of them. That didn’t leave me much time. I was also painfully aware I was still in my pajamas. My hair was pulled up in a messy bun. I hadn’t bothered with makeup. I’d resorted to the same routine for days. A week actually. Since the horrible afternoon when I last saw Knight.
Something had to change. I couldn’t continue like this. I drew the files into my arms and marched upstairs to my suite. I could apply makeup and read financials at the same time.
By the time I entered my father’s office, Tammy, one of the maids was on her way out. She had left a tray of tea. It was the full silver service, something my father usually reserved for important clients. Something that was hauled out and polished to demonstrate he had taste. He was as refined as any other man.
“Sit,” my father spoke. He pointed to the table by the bay window. It jutted out into the garden close to one of the fountains.
“Over here?” I usually sat on one side of the desk, and he on the other. Always being scolded and instructed like a student.
“Yes, Tammy brought tea. She said you like orange. I’ve never tried it.”
“I do. Thank you.” I carried the file with me and sat at the table. This felt off. I cautiously prepared my tea with a few cubes of sugar, stirring them gently in the fine porcelain cup.
The tea service had been a wedding gift from my grandparents. I’d heard about it several times. How much my mother loved it. How she liked to polish it herself, afraid one of the servants would scratch it.
I was always careful with it, but I could never bring myself to use my parents’ wedding gift. It sat on the edge of the table. I noticed my father wore his readers. Glasses that he reserved for fine print and intense reading.
He looked over the frames. “All right. What do you have for me?”
“I didn’t have much time to go into all the details in the reports, but I think I have a few things to share with you.”
“I’m interested to hear what those things are. Specifics, Kennedy. I want to hear your specific thoughts.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat.
“Start with shipping,” he directed. “You did read that report first, didn’t you?”
