Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I nod, but I’m still gritting my teeth as I steel my spine. Squaring my shoulders, I purposefully blank out my face before I go down the hall and knock on Dad’s office door.
I fucking hate this. Shit like this is why I left in the first place.
I don’t wait for permission to enter. I’m not a kid anymore, and this family meeting has been a long time coming. We all know it. I open the door to see Dad sitting behind his desk in his leather chair and Winston in one of the club chairs in front of it.
Dad looks like he’s ready for the office, wearing a white collared shirt and patterned gold tie, likely part of his usual suit, but he’s removed his jacket and his sleeves are rolled up his forearms as he steeples his hands and stares at Winston.
Thankfully, Dad’s eyes seem clear and bright this morning, so at least he’s sober. I shiver inside, thinking, When did that become a thing to be thankful for?
Winston is dressed more casually, though still professionally, in khakis and a polo embroidered with Uncle Jed’s business logo on the chest.
“Morning,” I say, not as a greeting but more as a way to get this ball rolling. “You ready to ream me out for leaving, Dad?”
My distaste and, to be honest, lack of a single fuck is obvious in my dry delivery. I hear Winston’s sharp breath, but my attention is focused on Dad’s reaction as I casually take a seat in the other club chair and get comfortable. His eyes narrow and his cheeks go a bit ruddy, which I take a bit of twisted delight in.
So many times before, I shrank beneath this same glare, but that was when I was a boy. Now, living on my own, proving myself to myself and the world, has made me strong enough to stare back, prepared for whatever he throws at me. Years of imagining this moment have let me anticipate every possible move he’ll make.
He sighs, resigned. “I deserve that, but no, I’m just glad you’re here.” There’s a small pause before he adds, “For the wedding.”
The fire I’m holding at the ready to unleash in a verbal smackdown cools at his quiet concession. This is not the powerhouse giant of a man in my memories. Has he become weaker, or have I grown that much stronger? Or maybe the distance and time have done both of us some good?
“I wouldn’t miss Winston’s vows.” I leave off that it was that damn please in his letter that got me back.
Winston butts in: “You say that, but we weren’t sure. I’m glad our doubts were misplaced.” He holds out a fist, and I bump it with one of my own.
“How are you feeling about the wedding?” I ask my brother. I already know the answer, but this is a conversational directive to get us where I’d like to go. Winston’s equally aware and plays along as though we haven’t had this conversation already over beers and burgers.
“The wedding? Fine. The marriage to Avery? Fucking ecstatic. She’s everything, more than I deserve for sure.” Winston’s smile is brighter than I’ve ever seen, and that alone is worth facing my dad and uncle for.
Dad snorts. “You deserve anything and everything, son.”
Aaand there it is.
It’s the same entitled attitude I grew up with as a guiding force, the one I came to realize was nothing more than bullshit and illusion. Shedding it was both freeing and terrifying, and without it, the world feels grossly unbalanced but also as though anything is possible.
“You don’t deserve anything, Winston. You’ve earned Avery’s love, the same way she’s earned yours,” I state flatly, only partially talking about Winston and Avery’s relationship.
“Is that what life out there has taught you?” Dad demands, laughing bitterly.
“Yeah, it’s too bad you haven’t learned that lesson.” I look around Dad’s fancy office, the same one I used to sneak into and sit in front of the fireplace, imagining the room was mine and I was a businessman.
Dad sneers, driving a fingertip into the surface of his desk. “You think I haven’t earned every bit of this? That I haven’t worked myself to the bone for this city? For you?” He points at me with a slightly trembling finger. “You come back all self-righteous, like you haven’t benefited from being a Ford since the day you were born. Easy to piss on that from your place on high, son. But at least I recognize it and take on the responsibility it comes with. I don’t run away from it. So excuse me if I take a bit of appreciation in the luxuries I’ve worked for.”
He holds his hands out, encompassing his office in appreciation, not in judgment like I did. Keeping my cool, I throw back, “I hear you’ve been ‘appreciating the luxuries’ quite a bit recently.”