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Andrew stands up with a grin on his face. “He really did change because of that, didn’t he?”
“I think so, at least. I didn’t really know him before he became a broke junior editor.” It’s strange talking to Andrew about Phillip. Andrew knows everything there is to know about him. He could tell me all the stories, and I’m itching to pick his brain, especially about gifts, since I can’t figure out anything Phillip would like. But I don’t know Andrew. I only met him the one time when we played charades.
Andrew watches me dig through the bags, and I can’t help but recognize the way he’s watching me. It must be genetic or something. Do all the Loughton men look at people like that? Like they’re analyzing everything about them?
“I don’t think it had much to do with being poor,” he says. “And I think it had everything to do with you.”
I look up at him. “What do you mean? Being poor changes everyone. All I did was give him a couch to sleep on.”
Andrew chuckles. “Right. I’m sure he slept on the couch. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean that he’s different because he’s more… human? I know my brother, and the way he’s acted since I came back into town is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. He’s fun, Addison, and I can’t help but give you the credit for that.”
“What do you mean ‘more human’? The very first night I met him, he seemed pretty normal. I mean, he was kind of an ass, but most rich guys are. I think it just comes with the territory.”
Andrew shakes his head. “No, he wasn’t normal. The only reason he woke up in the morning was to work. He’d never have played charades that night if there wasn’t some bookseller or author that we needed to woo. Even then, he’d probably have sent someone else.”
He chuckles and leans against the counter. “And now he owns Loughton House, so let’s all thank our lucky stars you got to him before that happened. He’d have fired the lot of us and had robots working for him. Or just forced us all to become robots. I’m not sure which would be worse.”
He owns Loughton House? What the hell did I miss? And why haven’t I heard anything about it?
“Wait. What? I thought your dad owned the company, and you two just worked for him. Did something change?”
Andrew’s enjoying my confusion, and it shows. I’m glad that his snarky grin isn’t as genetic as the way he watches people. “My big brother didn’t tell you? Dad transferred control of Loughton House to Phillip on Friday. He retired and split the family fortune and gave Phillip control of the company. Now, instead of working for Dad, I work for Phillip. I’d always worried about what it’d be like when that happened, but now, I’m actually kind of excited.”
How the hell did Phillip not tell me about this? How did he just blow it off like it’s nothing? Maybe he was waiting to celebrate until he got back from his trip? Maybe he’s nervous or scared of the extra responsibility? I don’t know. I still feel like he should have told me.
“Well, I guess that’s good, right? Your dad’s kind of an asshole, isn’t he?”
Andrew chuckles. “On the best days. But Addison, you’re missing the point. I was more worried about Phillip being the boss than my dad. Dad knew everyone was an idiot compared to him, and no one would work as hard as him. He’d accepted that. Phillip never did. He was always pissed that he couldn’t just run the entire company himself. This week, he created more positions for senior management to take the load off him. He’s actively trying to do less work, even though I’m sure profits will fall because of it.
“My brother is trying to do things other than work, Addison, and that is a literal miracle. I didn’t think it was possible before that night we played charades. Hell, he made a fool of himself on purpose. For fun.”
That’s a lot to take in. All of it. Phillip’s talked about how he never felt like he could do anything except work, but the way Andrew makes it sound, he never wanted anything else. Andrew can tell that I’m struggling with the information, and so he stands up and grabs the bags that the groceries came in.
“Well, I guess I’d better get going. Tell my brother congrats for me, okay? I put a bottle of bubbly in the fridge for you two to celebrate with since I’m such a thoughtful guy.”
I nod to him, but my thoughts are running wild. There’s so much information, so many confusing little pieces to the man that I love. I don’t know how to process all of them, especially with Andrew right here.
Why hasn’t he told me about inheriting the company?
I don’t know. I take a deep breath and let it out. It’s stupid to worry about that. The only way I’ll understand is by talking to Phillip, and any overthinking I do right now will only end up with me freaking out for no reason at all.
I barely even notice that Andrew’s gone when I go to the refrigerator and start pulling things out for dinner. There’s no reason to freak out. I’m sure that there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why Phillip didn’t tell me he’s now officially the owner of Loughton House.
I’m sure. At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself until I can talk to him.
Forty-Four
PHILLIP
Addison wasn’thappy about me being gone all weekend, but we both knew that work would take up a lot more time now that I’m not just a junior editor. We’ve talked about it.
Me not getting home until almost midnight might have pushed things a bit too far, though. Her texts weren’t exactly the normal, goofy Addison. Then she was asleep when I got home, so we didn’t have a chance to talk about the weekend.
I don’t know how to do this whole reassurance thing, and I’m exhausted. This weekend was shittier than I expected. Instead of meeting with an agency and talking them through what we’re looking for, the agency dragged me all over town to meet with each agent individually. It was fucking stupid, and I’m tempted to just block their emails and phone numbers, so I never have to go through another weekend like that.
But their client base is far stronger than I’d expected. Which means I have to put up with it. Next time, I’m sending someone else, though. I am the owner of the company, after all.
Addison is sipping coffee across from me at my dining room table, and she’s using the mug I bought her. That’s a good sign, right? Fuck, I don’t even know at this point.
