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The least I can do is hear George out.
“Sure. Did you drive?”
“I have a driver. You can ride with me or I can follow you.” He points over his shoulder to a black town car pulled up at the curb.
“I’ll ride with you. I got a cab here.”
We move to the car that’s idling and climb inside. The silence is awkward as it hangs in the air between us.
Unable to take it anymore, I say, “I’m sorry I asked you to leave.” I’ve had a lot of time to think since he left New York nearly two weeks ago.
“Oh, you have no need to apologize. I can understand that it must have come as quite a shock to you. I wanted to let you know that I’ve hired an investigator to find out what happened with you back in England, but I suspect your mom’s brother put you into foster care.” George picks at a piece of lint on his pant leg, unable to look me in the eye.
His shoulders are hunched, making my brow bunch together.
“I should have done more. I shouldn’t have walked away from the life my brother built so easily. You were just a baby, Sebastian, and you needed your family. We all let you down.”
A lump forms in my throat at his words. At the best of times, I struggle with showing my emotions, and this is no exception. I hate that I’m vulnerable because he’s right; as a child, I was let down.
My voice is hoarse as I say, “But you didn’t know. And I know that if you had, you would have done something about it.”
“In a heartbeat,” he mumbles.
None of it fixes what happened or changes the man I have become, but at least there’s some closure on that part of my life now. For so long I’ve carried a resentment toward my parents. I thought they’d abandoned me, that I wasn’t enough for them to stick around and so they’d left. The reality couldn’t have been any different.
George breaks through the quiet of the car as it cruises through the streets of Chicago. “We’d like to work on having a relationship with you. Miriam and I that is. If that is something you would like. It might not feel like it to you right now, but you are our family.”
My head tips back to rest against the headrest. The abandoned child inside of me, the one that never had a family, who was shipped from home to home, rejoices. But the man I am now, the one who worked every hour under the sun and made sure never to rely on another person, wants to tell him it’s too late.
“I don’t know if I can do that.” I lift my head to look at him before continuing, “Not right away, anyway. There’s a lot to wrap my head around.”
Hurt flashes across his face as he looks away and says, “Of course. The door will always be open for you, Sebastian. I’m just glad I got to meet you.”
The car pulls up outside of my hotel.When did I tell him where I was staying?
“I know a lot of people in Chicago, and just wanted to know where to reach you. Take your time, Sebastian, but reach out when you’re ready. Give Alex my best.”
With a muttered goodbye, I climb from the car, my mind a mess of jumbled thoughts. His reminder of Alex brings her back to the forefront of my mind, not that she’d gone far. My thumb mindlessly spins the ring on my finger.
I need to conclude my meetings in Chicago, go back to New York, and figure out a way to try and fix things with Alex.
THIRTY-THREE
Alex
The bass from the music vibrates through me as I grind into the warm, solid body behind me. Strong, thick fingers grip my hips, flexing against the bare skin of my right hip.
I’m about two margaritas past my limit, but I couldn't care less. I’m happy. I love to dance, I love the crush of bodies and the way they move as one to the rhythm on the dance floor.
It’s probably how I’ve ended up in Passion. Savannah came out with me tonight, although she left about two hours ago. It’s okay though, my new friend, Bjorn… or Brian, or whatever it is, wanted to come to the best club in town.
His club.
How could I say no?
The simple answer is, I didn’t want to. My need to prove to myself that it meant nothing—thathemeant nothing—seems to have taken control of me. I’m fine without him. He was just a blip on my radar.
Liar.
