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“I haven’t—we haven’t gotten that far.”
“You love that woman, Gaige,” she snaps. “You need to tell her.”
“I don’t know that it’s going to work right now. What else do you suggest?”
She gives me a different laugh, one that would make me think she’s going to suggest the same thing Tyler did if she didn’t mention deflowering to Leighton at her birthday party.
“I always enjoyed flowers when PopPop gave them to me.”
“You always had flowers, Lala.”
“PopPop was always in trouble.” She takes a reflective moment, a gentle sigh leaving her lips. “He was a pissy Italian who let his mouth get away from him without thinking, so he had lots to make up for.”
“I don’t think flowers are going to fix this,” I tell her, but I’d buy every one on this side of the Mason Dixon if I thought it would.
“Grand gestures are nice as well, but the apologies that always stood out the most to me were the ones when PopPop actually opened his mouth and told me what he was sorry for and why. When he used his words. Sounds simple, but apologies are anything but if you think about it.”
“I’m not good with those types of words,” I mutter, knowing I’m shit with emotions even less.
“And that’s what makes the gesture so grand, my dear, but you make up with her. I’m expecting more great grandbabies. Leighton sure is beautiful. I’ll never forgive you if you mess this up, Gaige. Promise me, Gaige. Promise me you’ll marry that girl someday.”
There’s a long pause as I stare up at the hotel, knowing there’s very little chance that she’s up there looking down at me.
“I promise, Lala.”
After I get off the phone with my grandmother, I spend an hour walking the block around the hotel, unsure of what kind of gesture would be grand enough to prove to Leighton that I’m no longer the man she met in the bar, that I’m worth taking a risk on. I can’t guarantee she’ll listen. She doesn’t want me to talk to her, so that narrows down my options, so then it hits me.
If I can’t tell her, I have to show her.
I make a half a dozen calls, regretfully getting Wren on board who seems to have been waiting for my call since Saturday afternoon.
Chapter 32
Leighton
Hope is so easy to build and so easy to crush. My phone ringing at nine in the evening shouldn’t light me up, but it does. That hope vanishes just as fast when I see my mother’s name on my screen instead of Gaige’s.
“Hello,” I answer, holding the phone to my ear and sitting up in bed.
“Leighton?” she snaps. “Were you already in bed? Are you ill?”
“I’m not ill. I’ve been traveling. It’s jet lag.”
It’s probably more like depression, but I’d never admit that to my mother. She’d tell me to pop a pill and get over myself.
“I’ve been expecting your call.”
“I’ve been working,” I tell her.
“Redmond Enterprises no longer exists.”
I don’t respond. She knows I know this. Chelsea and I are close. There’s not much going on with the family that I don’t know. She’s trying to bait me, and I’m sick of feeding into it. She’s no longer my puppeteer. If I’m not working for her company, she no longer controls my strings.
“The company fell apart in your absence.”
“You closed the doors and fired everyone. That has nothing to do with me, Mother.”
“Do not take that tone with me, Leighton.”
I hit the button to put her on speaker and drop the phone to the bed. It takes too much energy to hold the damn thing while being berated.
“I need you to come home.”
“I’m under a contract.”
“Break it.”
“They could sue, Mother.”
“And we could pay it, Leighton. I need you to clean this mess up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I need Redmond Enterprises back up and running.”
I blink down at the phone. That company is what I thought I always wanted and hearing her say this to me should make me want to do back flips, but the thought of leaving St. Louis makes my skin crawl despite knowing there’s nothing between Gaige and me, at least on his end of things.
Is it what I still want?
“It’s now or never, Leighton. What’s it going to be?”
“How much time do I have?”
“I need you in the office tomorrow. If you’re not back, the company is done. I already have a prospective buyer. You’ve been wasting your time, doing God knows what while everything is just burning to the ground up here. Your lack of dedication to this family is speaking very loudly right now.”
“I’ll—”
Three beeps indicate the dropped call.
My blood boils as I crawl off the bed and pace the room. My mother infuriates me. I swipe my phone from the bed and call Chelsea.
“Hello?” she says upon answering.
“Mom just called.”
“Who is this? It’s a little late for telemarketers.”
