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“How much earlier?” I asked.
“Years. I hadn’t expected to take over until I was forty.”
Kai was only thirty-two.
“Well, that’s a good thing, right?” I reasoned. “It’s like an early promotion.”
Provided he won the vote, which he likely would. I had a feeling Kai Young never lost at anything.
A corner of his mouth tipped up. “That’s one way of looking at it, but if you knew my mother, you’d know she would never give up power this early. She says everything is fine, but…”
His eyes clouded, and my breath stilled when I pieced together the rest of his sentence. “You’re worried she’s sick.”
A pause, then a slight dip of his chin.
“She won’t tell me if she is,” he said. “Not until she can’t hide it anymore. She hates being pitied more than anything in the world.”
A deep, unsettling ache unfurled behind my ribs at the strain in his voice.
There was nothing more gut-wrenching than losing a parent. I wasn’t sure what was worse—the long, drawn-out wait for the inevitable, as with terminal diseases and illnesses, or the sudden rupture of a family, as with accidents and cruel strokes of fate.
Sometimes, I wished my father had been sick. At least then, we would’ve been prepared instead of having him yanked from us without warning.
One minute, he was there, his face filled with loving indulgence as I begged him to take me to Disneyland for my birthday. The next, he was gone. His hopes, his fears, his dreams and memories all reduced to a hollow shell of a body lying among twisted heaps of rubber and metal.
Maybe it was selfish of me. I wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer, but I also never got to say goodbye…
I swallowed the knot of emotion in my throat and forced a smile. I could wallow in the past later, when there wasn’t someone else who had more pressing concerns sitting in front of me.
“There could be dozens of other reasons why she’s stepping down early,” I said in an attempt to make Kai feel better. “For instance, she could be getting blackmailed. Or maybe she met a hot young stud on vacation and wants to spend the rest of her days cavorting with him in the Bahamas instead of listening to boring sales reports.” I paused, my brow furrowing. “Your parents are divorced, right?” I remembered reading something to that effect online. “If they aren’t, forget what I just said and stick with the blackmail.”
“They’re separated, but close enough.” A ray of amusement peeked through the cloud in Kai’s eyes. “It’s odd that I’m hoping for blackmail, isn’t it?”
“Nope. It’s the most easily solvable out of the options, and I’m guessing you don’t want to think about your mom’s sex life.”
Kai blanched.
“Right. Well, if it does end up being blackmail, let me know after you’ve dealt with it. I need some good ideas for my book.”
Those knowing dark eyes sharpened. “What book?”
Shit. I hadn’t meant to let that slip, but it was too late to take it back.
“I’m writing an erotic thriller.” I tucked my hair behind my ear with a self-conscious hand. I didn’t like talking about it with anyone except Sloane and Vivian. They wouldn’t judge me, but some people got so uppity about genre fiction. Either that, or they would ask me a million questions about my agent, publisher, and release date, none of which I had. “I’ve been working on it for a while, but I’m stuck.”
I’d made decent headway since Gabriel’s call. It was more than what I’d written in the past two months, but it wasn’t enough. Not if I wanted to finish before my mom’s birthday.
Kai’s eyes fastened on mine. To my surprise, I only saw curiosity and a touch of sympathy. No judgment. “Stuck on which part?”
“Everything.” I didn’t know why I was telling him this, but something about today felt different from our previous interactions. Easier, more comfortable. “The plot, the characters…”What I want to do with my life.“Sometimes it feels like I forgot how to string a few words together, but I’ll figure it out.”
Maybe if I said it enough times, it would come true.
“I’m sure you will.” A faint smile touched Kai’s lips. “You chose well. Of all the genres, erotic thriller suits you best.”
My eyes narrowed. “Was that an insult or a compliment?”
“It’s however you want to take it,” he said in that infuriatingly enigmatic tone. “So why did you choose writing? I must admit, I pictured you in a more…social profession.”
