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Did you just do a finger gun wave? What in the world?
My eyes widen, and I hope to heavens that she somehow didn’t witness that.
Sage turns her head slightly, assessing me, and I awkwardly rock on my heels.
“A cappuccino.” She nods, punching the order into the register screen.
I pay for my drink, grab my change, and drop it into the tip jar. Then, I move to the other end of the counter and wait for my drink.
“Thanks,” I say as she places it in front of me.
I told her I wouldn’t push, and I’m not going to. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being in her company. I have no idea what it is about her that pulls me in like a magnet.
When I sit down, I realize I should’ve brought my laptop to keep me busy so that I don’t seem like a creep every time I look at Sage.
You didn’t plan on showing up here.
Pulling out my phone, I check my email and write responses as I drink my coffee. A message notification pops up, and I shut my eyes when I see it’s from my dad.
I take a deep breath, inhaling patience, and open it.
Dad: Hello, son. I’m planning a surprise party for your mother’s fifty-fifth birthday this Saturday. I expect you to be there.
I stare at the message.
Saturday, as in two days from now? And he’s telling me today?
Of course he expects me to be there. In his mind, he can still control us. If I don’t go, it’ll only affect my chances of getting my trust fund released. My parents are using this to their advantage. It was a mistake to show them my weakness—how much I needed this money.
Instead of replying to him, I text my brother and ask if he received the same message. I won’t respond to my father until I hear from Hudson. Although, I know I have to go to this event. God forbid the entire Remington family isn’t present and posing like the happy family we aren’t.
I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, a hand tugging my hair at the roots. The last thing I feel like doing is dressing up and pretending I’m excited about my mother’s birthday. I didn’t even realize it was this Saturday, which says enough about our relationship.
My phone buzzes, and I sit up straight and grab it, breathing out when I see it’s a message from Hudson.
Hudson: Hey, haven’t checked. Just finished up another meeting. I’ll look and let you know
Tristan: Thanks. I haven’t responded, and I won’t until I hear back from you.
I rest my elbow on the table and push my hand into my hair, holding my head up as I continue looking through my email. My dad can wait for a response. Besides, he didn’t ask. He demanded.
Hudson sends another message, and I quickly open it.
Hudson: Yup, got a message. He expects us there. If Lex isn’t invited, I’m not going. I don’t owe them a thing.
Tristan: Lucky you. I need the trust fund, and they know it. If I don’t show, it’ll only hurt my chances.
Hudson: I told you I’ll lend you the money. Look at it as a bank loan. I’ll even charge you interest.
Tristan: And I told you I want to do this on my own.
Hudson: …
Tristan: I’m not using Mom and Dad. That trust fund is mine. It’s the principle.
If my parents set those trust funds up for us, they committed the money to be ours. My heart rate picks up as anger streams through my veins like lava.
I scoot my chair back and stand, the legs shrieking against the tile floor. Sage’s head snaps up to me, her eyebrows furrowed. I shake my head and throw my cup away, walking out of The Bean.
