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“It’s the only way to speak to a dick.”
He smiles a little and I smile back. We remain like that for a few minutes, watching the sky and listening to the birds.
It’s our modus operandi. Silence means more than words. He might be loud and a general asshole, but King also knows how to use and appreciate silence.
Despite his sharp words, he’s giving me a chance. And while he means it about killing me if I hurt Gwyneth, I can tell he’s also slightly relieved.
He’ll probably never tell me this, but deep down, he’s glad it’s me. King never thought anyone would be good enough for the daughter he sacrificed his youth for.
“Keep the shares, Nate. I was only testing you with them.” He flips his lighter closed. “I have one condition, though.”
“What?”
“You’ll make something up and have the board remove Aspen from W&S. If I do it, Gwen will hate me.”
“And you think she won’t hate me? Also, there will be no removing Aspen. She’s a senior partner and the best we have. Stop thinking with your dick.”
“I’m not thinking with my dick.”
“Yes, you are. I’ve been with you for over two decades and I know how obsessed you were with finding Gwyneth’s mother. Sure, you didn’t want her to be Aspen, but she is and you need to accept that.”
“Fuck no.”
I shake my head but don’t say anything.
King and Aspen aren’t my main focus. All I can think about is getting Gwyneth back.
She must be so angry at me.
39
Gwyneth
The day Nate came back, I could feel it.
I got out of bed early on a Saturday for no reason at all and made lots of cupcakes that I won’t be eating, then I told Dad to go jog without me.
I sat on the edge of the pool clutching a vanilla milkshake, removed my sneakers, and dipped my feet in the water.
Sometimes, it’s calming because I remember when Nate and I had hot sex here. But other times, all I can think about is when Dad tried to drown him.
I shake that image away and grab the milkshake, then stare at it in the sun. “What’s wrong with you, buddy? Why are you tasteless?”
“Are you really talking to a milkshake?”
Ever since I got up this morning, I had a feeling, but having that feeling and the actual reality is entirely different.
Because the sound of his voice after such a long time is like a shockwave and it’s now spreading through me, lighting up all my nerves.
God. His voice, that rich depth in it, clutches me in a tight noose.
His face blocks the sun as he stares down at me. If hearing his voice put me in a loop, seeing his strong features nearly sets me on fire—the entire pool wouldn’t be able to put it out.
It’s only been a couple of weeks since I last saw him, but it feels like years. Maybe decades, even.
My eyes take in his entire face—the lines in it, the handsomeness of it. His stubble has grown thicker and his shoulders are broader somehow. So broad that they hide the sun and the world beyond them. They block everything except for him.
The man who once stomped all over my vanilla heart but still made it feel loved and appreciated anyway.
