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“Henry said you have some family though? Two uncles? And more in Australia?”
“Yeah. I’m not close to any of them, but I guess some of them will come to the funeral.”
“Do you think your father will come?” I ask.
He hesitates. “I don’t know. He said he’d let me know. He had a Sudden Cardiac Arrest in March last year. He used to travel a lot, but I don’t think he’s left Australia since.”
“Did he remarry after your mum died?”
“Yeah. To Arabella. She already had two sons. She hates me because at the moment I’m due to inherit Dad’s fortune. Which of course will be even more now Maddie won’t be taking half of it.” He speaks matter of factly, obviously used to his stepmother’s feelings toward him.
I feel inordinately sorry for him, something I didn’t expect considering how rich he is. “You said ‘at the moment.’ Do you think your dad will change his will to include his stepsons?”
“He’s threatened it a couple of times if I don’t toe the line.” His mouth curves up.
I give him a baffled look. “How are you not toeing the line? You seem as if you’re doing fabulously to me.”
“He wants me to get married and have children. A son, specifically. An heir.”
“Oh…” I say softly.
“Yeah, it’s positively medieval. I refuse to comply. I’m going to leave my fortune to the SPCA.”
I give a short laugh. He’s right, it is archaic, but I’m practical enough that I can understand why his father wants the money he’s earned to stay in the family. “Has he been pressuring you more since his heart problem?”
“Yeah. He told me that if I don’t get married by the end of this year, he’s going to cut me out of the will.”
Understanding slowly sinks in. “Is that why you went steady with Cassie?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. He looks up at the ceiling, breathes in, then lets out a long sigh. “Kinda.”
“You don’t need the money though, surely?”
“No, I don’t need it. But I could do a lot with it. Invest it in Kia Kaha and Kingpinz—that’s Damon’s company. I could help a lot of people with it.” He’s not being sarcastic. I think he genuinely means it. I hadn’t realized he was so altruistic. He comes across as a player, but of course he created Kia Kaha with Alex and the others, so he’s obviously interested in helping people.
“And you want his approval?” I ask, wondering if that’s part of it.
His lack of reply tells me I’m right.
“We’re hardwired to desire the approval of our parents,” I tell him. “You’re not unusual in that.”
“Fuck him,” he says, which tells me everything I need to know.
“How old were you when your parents split?” I ask. I keep expecting him to tell me to mind my own business, but he doesn’t.
“Fourteen.”
“What was your mum’s name?”
His expression softens. “Emma.”
“What was she like?”
“A lot like Maddie. Gentle, and kind, but she had her demons. She suffered from depression too.”
Something occurs to me then. “Do you have depression?”
But he shakes his head. “I don’t seem to have inherited that gene, thank God. I remember getting home from school when I was a teenager and finding Mum still in bed. She’d cry for hours.” He sighs.
