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I stop listening as Father drones on. He talks about Samantha as though Chelsea wasn’t sitting right beside me. I side-eye her and notice she isn’t eating. Her body is rigid, and her hands remain tightly sandwiched between her thighs. I lower my fork and place my palm over her hands. She flinches immediately and pulls away and angles her thighs so they’re facing in the other direction.
This is the first time in my life that I find myself standing at a crossroads. I’m standing between a woman I’m pretending to be engaged to and a company I’ve committed my life’s work to. My knife and fork clink against my plate as I cut into the cottage pie.
If I break up with Chelsea, then Father will hand me the company. If I break up with Chelsea, I get everything I have ever wanted. Everything except the girl. How easy it would be to fall back into my old way of life without Chelsea in it. The problem is that I’m more like my old man than I care to admit. I’m greedy and stubborn to a fault. I want the companyandthe girl. I just need to figure out a way I can have both.
I look up and meet my father’s stare. “Certainly, Father. I will speak with Samantha at the charity gala.” I fail to mention that it will be to tell her once and for all that there is no hope of a future for us.
Chelsea hasn’t touched her main and it hasn’t escaped my attention that she hasn’t had more than a bite to eat all evening. When Mrs Collins comes to take our plates, Chelsea complains of a headache and excuses herself. I hate that my father is here, and I can’t accompany her to our bedroom.
Lucky for me, we only have one course remaining. My only hope is that Father doesn’t suggest retiring to the study with a bottle of Scotch and concluding the evening with a game of chess. A game of chess with my father can last hours, and hours is something I simply don’t have when there is a beautiful woman lying in my bed.
“So, what are your plans for the rest of the week?” I ask, trying to keep a light conversation flowing.
Father relaxes back in his chair and regards me for a second before answering. “Now that we are alone and won’t be disturbed, I have to tell you, son, that I have decided to part with Freesdon Hall. I plan to sell the property via a private auction house.”
Pain ricochets around me, and I have to squeeze my hands into tight fists to prevent them from shaking. Freesdon Hall is the place I grew up, the place where all my childhood memories with my mother are stored.
A war is raging in my mind, and it takes all my self-control not to strike my fist on the table. Trying my hardest to keep my composure, I take a deep and calming breath. “Not only would it be wrong, but it would be immoral to sell our home.”
Father sighs. “I’m a little long in the tooth to live my life based on sentiment. The house, like your mother, is dead. It’s a beautiful property, and it’s about time it had a new lease of life with a new family. It’s time to move on and close that chapter in our lives.”
“Father, you can’t.”
He shakes his head. “It’s already done.”
The soufflés arrive and we eat in silence, or rather Father eats as I wait patiently for him to leave. I don’t meet his stare and instead watch the hands of the old grandfather clock tick away.
“I’m tired. It’s time I head home,” Father says and gets to his feet.
Finally.
“I’ll see you out.” I stand and follow Father into the hall. The sensor lights come on the second we step out onto the driveway.
Albert jumps out of the Mercedes and helps my father. Once he is inside the car, I turn my back to leave when he calls after me.
“I hand the keys over next week. You have until Friday if you want to go in the house one final time for old times’ sake, or if there’s anything sentimental inside you may want.”
The whole damn house is sentimental,I want to say in reply. But I don’t. I keep my lips sealed. It is a coward who is unable to face his problems head-on, but in this instance I’m unable to turn to meet my father’s stare.
I take a slow and controlled inhale. “No, thank you. I will not be setting foot back inside that house.” I can’t, knowing it’ll be the last time.
“That’s a pity, because Farrah, Gage and Malachi will be joining me on Friday afternoon for a family get-together in the gardens. I would really like it if all my children were in attendance. I have arranged a small buffet-style spread and some drinks. I would like us to raise our glasses for a toast in memory of your mother before I lock the doors one final time.”
How wonderful. An intimate family get-together while Father rips out my fucking heart and soul. I bite down hard and grind my teeth.
I’m a Calloway,I remind myself,and Calloways face their problems head-on.
“I will see you Friday,” I grit out. I don’t wait until the car is off the property to re-enter the house. I hurry back inside, slamming the door behind me. I pass Mrs Collins on my way to the stairs.
“Sir, what do you want me to do with Chelsea’s food?”
“Keep it covered,” I practically growl. I hurry up the stairs and make my way across the landing to the bedroom.
I push open the door and step inside. The main light is off, and the room is lit solely by a six-foot lamp in the corner. The room appears to be empty. I check the en suite and walk-in wardrobe. They too are empty.
Where is she?
I’ve got to keep it together. I’m a Calloway, and I cannot let emotion get the better of me.
