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“We haven’t been handed anything,” grumbles Charlie, but it’s more under his breath than to my parents. I’ve heard that same complaint before. We haven’t been handed anything, my brother likes to say, when he’s had a few too many drinks and my parents aren’t around. We’re being told to jump through hoops and put on a good show until one of us will eventually come in first place and get a little treat tossed our way.
Thankfully for Charlie, neither of my parents heard that grumble of his.
I’m always torn, because on one hand, I agree with him. I’ve always agreed that we shouldn’t have our business lives be hinged on our romantic lives. But I also know that my parents are just trying to look out for us, in their own ways. That’s also why I’ve gone along with it for so long. It was only after our brother’s death that this pressure became unbearable.
Don reaches out, taking hold of Ashley’s hand. She looks surprised by the gesture, and even more surprised when Don tells her, “I know that it’s nothing official yet, but I wanted to be the first to welcome you to the family.”
Cheryl scolds him, “You can’t do that until their wedding day, Don. It’s bad luck.”
“I can do it now and be the first. You know I don’t believe in luck,” Don counters. “They’re practically already wed anyway. Have you been watching them throughout the trip?”
He gives Ashley’s hand a shake. She says, clearly startled and embarrassed, her cheeks going bright red, “I—thank you.”
Don's hand retreats. Cheryl leans towards him, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. She says, “Of course I’ve seen them this week. They remind me of us, when we first met.”
“Exactly,” says Don. “That’s how I know it’s okay to welcome her into the family now. I can tell they’re good. You aren’t planning on going anywhere, are you, Ashley?”
“No sir,” she says, a soft smile on her lips. Ashley sounds so honest when she says, “I’ve never been happier than when I’m around Grant. I plan on sticking around for as long as he’ll have me.”
“That would be always,” I say, snatching her hand up. I run my thumb over the jut of the ring, the diamonds rough against the pad of my finger. “And this is meant to prove that.”
“Gag me,” Charlie complains.
Cheryl laughs. “Oh, Charlie! That’s horrible!”
Don says, “None of that once we get out of here. You boys hear me? I’m not going to have your little competition showing up and causing an issue with this deal.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dad,” I tell him.
Ashley tilts her head up and gives me a kiss on the underside of the jaw. “I’d say try not to be out too long—”
“No control over it,” I tell her. “But I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” And then, “I’m coming up to the room to change anyway. We have—how long, Dad?”
Don checks the gold Rolex that he’s worn for as long as I can remember. He frowns, brows pinching down as he works things out. “With the traffic in this city, better keep it down to ten minutes.”
“Don,” scolds Cheryl. “You can’t get ready in less than fifteen, and we both know it!”
Don says, “I’ll be fine.”
Cheryl says, “Fifteen minutes, all of you.”
Don makes a face but doesn’t argue with his wife. My parents leave for the east elevators that will take them straight up to their own penthouse.
That just leaves three of us down in the lobby. I’m honestly expecting Charlie to make an even bigger scene, but he actually turns to leave right after that, not even giving us so much as a goodbye. Once he leaves, Ashley says, “You know, I don’t remember him being so… Angry.”
“Charlie’s got a lot on his plate,” I say. “It’s not an excuse but—” I shrug. “It’s an explanation, at least. I think that we’ve just got to keep doing things the way that we have been. He’s just grasping at straws. It’s not like we haven’t been putting on a good show.”
“I hope we have,” says Ashley. She slides one hand down, tangling her fingers in my own. Her thumb slides over the back of my knuckles, and she turns and starts leading the way over to the glass elevator in the center of the lobby. “Come on. If you only have fifteen minutes to get ready, we shouldn’t spend them down here talking.”
“Don said ten,” I point out.
Ashley just gives me this amused look, as though I should know better. “And your mom said fifteen. Now, who do you think is correct?”
“Alright,” I say, with a laugh. “I’ll give you that one.”
We step into the glass elevator. She gets the same joy out of it now as she has each time we’ve stepped into it. And that’s a big part of my fascination with her—Ashley has such a brimming love for life. It’s good to be around. I like knowing that she’s near—and I like knowing that I’m going to come home to her later tonight, too.
Maybe that means that I’ve gotten in over my head. Or maybe it doesn’t. In the end, I decide to just enjoy the experience for what it is. Everything will work out the right way at the end, I’m absolutely sure of it.
