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“And why didn’t Mom tell me?” I asked. I felt like I was in a therapy session, asking questions, seeking answers, yet worrying I’d be no better off when I left.
“Maybe because she was protecting you too. Maybe because she didn’t want to upset the balance. Who knows? That’s something you’d have to ask her.”
“Right.” I stared past him. Like the answers might flash in the vast open space behind the windows.
“I know this is a lot to take in, Michael. But please know I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you. I’d never want to cause you pain. For so long, I’ve known something was boiling just beneath the surface. I figured you’d come to me if you wanted. Maybe I should’ve pushed you to talk, to open up to me. But you’re a grown man, and I just . . . I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I sat in the empty chair. Matthew sat beside me. For once, I felt like a part of the family that made up my dad, my brother, and me. Like the biggest burden I’d been weighed down by had suddenly been taken off my shoulders. “Jesus.” I dropped my head in my hands and closed my eyes.
“I know, bro. It’s a lot to deal with. Hard to accept. But at least you know the truth. I thought you did, but it makes sense now, knowing that you didn’t. All this time—believing one thing. And it turns out to be a lie.”
I cocked my head toward him. “Have you ever talked to Mom about all this?”
“No way. I figure, live and let live. It’s all in the past. Why dredge it up?”
“Part of me feels like she should’ve told us. Well, me, I guess.”
“Would that have helped?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. But maybe I wouldn’t have had so much anger and resentment toward you,” I said, meeting my father’s eyes.
“I just hope that we can move forward. If you want to talk more, we can. I’m not trying to keep you in the dark.” My father’s voice sounded hopeful, less sure of himself than he ever was in business.
“Not right now. I need to think about everything, process it and deal with it.”
“Just know, my door is always open.”
“I think I need a drink.” I laughed shakily.
My father went to the cabinet where he kept the liquor, poured me two fingers. “Matthew?” he asked.
“Sure, why not.”
“Steph?”
“Just a smidge,” she said, her fingers close together.
“To new beginnings,” my father proposed. We clinked our glasses together, echoing the sentiment.
The scotch warmed me. My body had turned ice cold from the news I’d just received. I would need to talk to my mother. I just didn’t know how I was going to deal with it, deal with her. I let the liquid slide down, smooth and warm.
It reminded me of Siena, drinking with her, and feeling the same warmth from Moretti wines. I missed her even more now. I wished I could talk with her about all of this, let her help get me through it. But what if she wouldn’t be there for me when I got back home?Home?This was the first time I’d thought of Monarch as my home, and now everything was fucked up. I needed to get things back on track, and the only way to do that was to convince my father to change his mind.
“Okay,” Matthew said, bringing us all back to attention. “Should we get back to what we came out here for?” His chuckle helped to lighten the mood.
“Yeah,” I said, snorting. What the hell? Another thing reminding me of Siena. I’d never snorted once in my life. Why wasn’t she here to make fun of me?
“Did you just snort?” Matthew asked, laughter escaping him.
“Yeah. Siena’s clearly rubbed off on me.”
“Oh, really?” he asked, smirking.
“Yeah, don’t ask.” I grinned.
“Whatever you say, bro.”
I directed my attention back to my father. “Let me”—I looked at Matthew—“letusshow you our ideas.”
