Flawless: (Fearsome Series Book 4)

by S. A. Wolfe

  “What about your businesses here? You can’t just dump everything on your dad and Greer. There needs to be a transition period to turn over the management and financials. You know that.”

  “Flora will expedite the paperwork for us. Greer can manage here. My dad and uncle already handle Brooklyn and Manhattan full time. Everything is under control. You and Greer can discuss who will become head chef at Swill. Other than that, when we go out next week, Danny already has a company-paid apartment that you can live in until you find your own place. And these are not cheap rentals, my friend. Danny goes all out. Top-of-the-line housing.”

  “So you have all this figured out? Harmony is on board with this, too?”

  “She will be.”

  “I’m surprised she’d drop everything here.”

  “This is what you and I talked about for years. This is what we wanted.”

  “I don’t want it, Peyton.”

  “I don’t understand. You’ve opened three restaurants with me. You were the one reluctant to move to Hera temporarily. You kept saying you needed to be in a city. We’re going to open two places in Los Angeles and one in Las Vegas to start, and a fourth is in the works. You’re going to oversee the kitchen designs and the menus. That’s just the beginning, Bash. Bourdain has so much more for us.”

  “I don’t want it. I don’t want to work for a conglomerate. I like being our own bosses. I like Hera. I like what we created here. Swill is something unique, and I put a lot of work into this place and the staff. It’s the right fit for me.”

  “Are you serious? You’re the guy who thought Brooklyn was too small for you—population over two million—but you’re settling into Hera, where you’re resident number nine hundred and two?”

  “I didn’t know it when Swill was a blueprint, but working in this kitchen for the last few months has been great. And living in this town has shown me what I want. I’m with someone I like.”

  I must have made a strange face, because he grimaces. I cannot for the life of me figure out whom he is talking about.

  “Kim,” he says.

  “Kim Baker? Kim the librarian? I thought you two just hooked up once. I didn’t know it was serious.”

  “We didn’t hook up. We went out on actual dates, and we’ve been seeing each other for over a month. I want to see where it goes because I’ve got something good here. She’s great.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” I feel defeated again. I can’t seem to win with anyone. It’s bad enough I’m losing the battle with Harmony, but if Bash doesn’t move across the country with me either, I’m really starting over on my own. Without my son. Without anyone I love.

  “I’m taking Kim to Lake Placid next week. I need a vacation, and I want to spend it with her. I’m staying in Hera, Peyton. If you won’t let me retain part ownership in Swill, I’ll work for Greer if I have to. I’m not going to LA with you, though.”

  “Jesus, we’ve been a team for years. Are you really going to give up your career for a woman?”

  “Don’t go there. You sound like an ass. Are you really going to give up a woman you’re in love with for a job?”

  Talia. Her name grabs me by the throat. I’m not good enough for her. I’m not good enough for my son. I’m not worthy of any of them, including Bash. He deserves to have what he wants.

  The kitchen crew returns from the employee break room, where they were having a staff meeting. Their chatter dies down when they sense the tense atmosphere. Bash and I are having a stare-down.

  “Fuck!” I slam my fist against the stainless steel table.

  The room goes completely silent as I storm out of the kitchen.

  Peyton

  IF YOU LOSE LOVE and family, how much is career ambition worth? That thought haunts me as I pull into Harmony’s driveway and park my truck.

  Finn is shooting hoops, so I don’t want to crowd his court space. He glances my way as I kill the engine, but then he goes back to taking his shot.

  When I step out of the car, he lobs the ball fast and hard at my chest. I catch it before it knocks the wind out of me.

  So my son is still angry with me for yelling at his mother and, like me, instead of using words to express this, he’s exerting violence against inanimate objects. MacKenzies are famous for this. Just ask my dad about the four couches my mom had to replace because of her rambunctious, fist-wielding sons.

  I take the shot from my car, wanting to show off some of my basketball skills from my days of high school fame. I shoot long and smooth. The ball sails effortlessly and torpedoes through the hoop with a mere swoosh of the net.

  “Not bad.” Finn catches the ball and dribbles it away from me.

  “Not bad? That was at least two hundred feet away,” I say, trying to break the ice with him.

  “More like thirty feet.”

  “Hey, come on. That shot was awesome.”

  Finn hitches the ball against his hip, looks at me, and snickers. “Yeah, whatever you say.” He looks around, avoiding eye contact with me for as long as he has to. “Mom said you’re going to move to Los Angeles. You took that job.”

  “I didn’t know she told you. What do you think about it?”

  “She said we’re not going with you.”

  My heart sinks. I was hoping Harmony would have changed her mind over the last few days and present good news to me tonight.

  I approach him, cautious about physical affection. I want to give him a pat on the back and kiss his head. I don’t. He steps back a bit from me.

  Finn is testing me or himself, as though he’s already invested enough in me and can’t give me any more since I broke the emotional trust developing between us.

  “Anyway, you’re late. Mom said dinner was ready twenty minutes ago.”

  “I lost track of time. Got here as fast as I could.”

  Finn looks discouraged. This shows how little you care about other people. You can’t even be on time.

  I follow him into the house and drag the oppressive cloak of guilt with me.

  “You’re late,” Harmony says. She places a basket of bread next to the lasagna pan on the dining table and looks at me, waiting for an acceptable excuse.

  “Sorry. I really am.”

  “Wash up. Both of you,” she demands.

  Finn and I wash our hands at the kitchen sink, then return to the dining room. Finn slams himself into a chair, looking grim and fed up. I take the seat across from him.

  “I was actually driving around, wondering what the hell I’m doing, other than making everyone angry at me.”

  “At least you’re thinking about it,” Harmony says. “That’s a start.” She slices and shovels large rectangles of lasagna onto our plates. “Well?” she asks, holding the spatula in the air as if she’s ready to smack me with it.

  “Well … I spoke to Danny. Said I’d fly out there next Wednesday. I was hoping Bash would go with me.” I fidget with my fork.

  “Did Bash accept their offer, too? Is he going with you?” she asks in a clipped tone as she sits down.

  “No. Apparently, he likes his life here too much to leave.”

  “Imagine that.” She takes a bite of her salad and watches Finn shove a forkful of lasagna into his mouth.

  “I was hoping you had changed your mind and we could—”

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve explained to Finn why it would be a bad idea for us to move out there.”

  “What about a new schedule with me? I could fly Finn out every other weekend. I could fly here, and fly with him to LA, and bring him back.”

  Finn looks between us.

  “That’s not going to happen.” Harmony shakes her head, then takes a sip from her water glass.

  She’s made it clear that there’s no room for negotiation where Finn is concerned, and I’m not surprised. If I had full custody of my kid, I doubt I’d go along with a stupid plan of putting him on a cross-country flight twice a month. It’s unnatural. But I’m the jerk who’s coming up with these terrible i
deas because I don’t know how to handle my own life.

  Harmony takes another bite of salad and chews it delicately as she watches me, waiting for me to say something reasonable. I have a sudden flash to high school and watching Harmony eat her lunch slowly, refusing to be rushed by school bells. She took her time eating and talking and always looked so cool and calm.

  Why isn’t she yelling at me? I’m about to fuck up her kid’s life. Again.

  I make a few, half-hearted attempts at my brick-size piece of lasagna, but I’ve lost my appetite. The fear of losing Finn is becoming a reality. I was so sure Harmony would appreciate this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I’ve been given, and that it would be my chance to give back to Finn in a big way. It’s also the fear of staying here. Even if I were to move back to the city or to Westchester to be closer to Finn, the geography and the close proximity to Talia would kill me. I would be one of those fucking sad dads. Those single dads I see moping around bars because they can’t get their shit together. If I stay anywhere near Hera, I would be an awful person to be around, and Finn would get sick of me.

  “Finn, I don’t want to go without you.” I want to make it clear I’m here for him, but I leave it there because every other step is a potential time bomb.

  “We discussed this,” Harmony says to her son. “We already packed up our lives and moved across the country to be here, closer to your father and closer to all of your relatives. We can’t move across the country and start all over again because your father doesn’t know what he wants.”

  That last line surprises me.

  They both look at me.

  “I want to work for Bourdain, and I want Finn in my life.”

  “No. That’s not going to happen,” she says. “Not in a meaningful way, not if you’re living in California and he’s living in New York.”

  Finn stops eating and puts his fork down.

  “Harmony, I thought you invited me here to work something out.”

  “I invited you here because Finn needs his dad, and you need him. You think you’re here to sell me on Los Angeles? You think you need more money? Being richer isn’t going to make you happier. I should know.”

  “May I be excused and go back outside?” Finn asks Harmony.

  She nods.

  What crosses between them is a mother looking sympathetically at her son who’s discovered his father is a selfish, sad dad.

  He doesn’t say anything to me, and I don’t offer any encouraging words as he trudges out the front door. Soon, we hear his basketball thumping on the driveway.

  “Shit,” I whisper, looking at my plate of uneaten food.

  “Peyton!”

  I look up as a whole baguette whacks me in the head.

  Harmony’s cool façade has been replaced with her full-on rage mode. “You are breaking that boy’s heart!”

  “I don’t want to hurt him! It’s my heart, too!”

  She takes a deep breath, then exhales sharply. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly for a minute or so.

  I pick the baguette off the floor.

  When Harmony opens her eyes, I quickly scan the objects closest to her, preparing myself for another assault. It’s the sharp lasagna knife sitting a few inches from her throwing hand that concerns me.

  “There. No more yelling,” she says calmly. “The problem is you don’t understand how rich you are because you’ve taken your wealth for granted. You’ve always had this wonderful, big family looking out for you. I envied your family. I envied the confidence it gave you to be who you wanted to be. I envy that you followed your passion and built an amazing career at such a young age. You have everything here, Peyton. Your family, your business, your friends, and your son. What could possibly compel you to give any of that up? And what about Talia? At first, I wasn’t thrilled about her, but I know you’ve been seeing each other. How does she feel about you moving to LA?”

  “We … She broke it off. She’s not an issue.”

  There’s an edge to the way Harmony looks at me in disbelief. “Okay, I see what’s going on. You are really screwed up on so many levels, so let me help you here. You need to get your priorities straight, Peyton.” She points her fork at me. “You need to grow up and get your shit together. Stop using money as an excuse, because you have plenty. Stop talking about opportunities thousands of miles away when you have all the opportunities you need right here in New York. Here are your priorities.” She begins to tick them off on her fingers. “Finn, your family, your business, that woman whose name I’m tired of mentioning …”

  Her last comment forces me to smile. “You’re on fire.”

  “I have my moments when I like to give back. To be a mentor for those who behave like …”

  “I’ve been an asshole.” I toss my napkin on the table.

  “Yes. You have. So how are you going to fix this?”

  • • •

  I shoot a few hoops with Finn.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore.” He drops the ball and kicks it to the side of the driveway.

  “Want to talk?” I reach out to him, but he shrugs my hand off his shoulder and plants himself on the steps of the front stoop.

  I sit next to him, giving him enough space between us.

  “You don’t have to pretend anymore if that’s what you’ve been doing with me,” he says, not looking at me, watching the cars cruising down his street.

  “I haven’t been pretending with you. I love being with you. Did you think I was faking this with you?”

  “I don’t know anymore. I thought we were having fun together.”

  “We were. We are. Look at me, Finn.”

  He slowly yet reluctantly turns his head toward me. I’ve seen that face, that expression of pure disappointment. That was me when my parents were fighting all the time and when they announced their marriage was over.

  “Mom and I did fine before I met you,” he says. “I didn’t know much about you. I wanted to hate you. I told myself that I don’t need a dad. Then I met you, and I wanted to keep you.” His eyes expose a sheen of unshed tears glistening in the front porch light. Then a single tear slides out of the corner of my eye. I wipe it with the heel of my hand.

  What kind of father does this to a kid?

  “Ah, hell, Finn. I’m sorry I hurt you. This whole job thing I’ve been bragging about wasn’t about punishing you or your mother in any way. I thought it would make me better. I thought I’d be a kickass dad. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “People can be forgiven.” He bumps his leg affectionately against my mine, and then he leans in. “I think you like me a lot.”

  It’s a relief to laugh. I hug him close. “I’m pretty sure I love you.” I kiss the top of his head and squeeze him harder against me.

  “Please don’t move away from me, Dad,” Finn whispers against my chest.

  Dad.

  I love when he says that.

  Peyton

  HARMONY AND I HAVE worked out what I need to do. It knocks my ego down a thousand notches, which apparently is what was required. It’s better this way. I’ll have Finn in my life and that won’t change.

  I’ve made the right decision, but I still can’t sleep. I’ve turned all my energy back to obsessing about Talia, wondering if she’s at Adam’s house at this moment. In his bed.

  At three a.m., I search the Internet and find the movie Talia said was her favorite. Eat Drink Man Woman. I stream it and begin to watch, thinking I’m doomed. It’s in subtitles and looks like an artsy, philosophical flick, the kind of film that’s difficult for me to sit still through.

  However, I’m mesmerized by it. The family drama, the cooking scenes, the widower father, a chef trying to hold his family together, the family rituals, the love, loss, sorrow, and happiness. It has everything. This Chinese family could just as easily be a family in Brooklyn or Hera. It could be Talia’s family. It could be mine.

  I watch the film again. My heart connects with the father and the sisters. They each ha
ve love interests, the outliers, and even on the second time around, I wonder if the outliers will upset the family dynamic or strengthen it.

  That’s my problem. I think of myself as an outlier to Talia and her family instead of someone who deserves to be a part of her family, someone who truly can strengthen what she has.

  You’re not an outlier. You love her. You love her family. You belong with them just as much as you belong with Finn.

  It’s not about having separate circles of people. It’s about bringing them all together.

  I watch the sun come up. I still haven’t slept, but I feel like I could run a marathon.

  Los Angeles is three hours behind, too early to call Danny Bourdain. Instead, I text Dylan.

  Fifteen minutes later, he’s in front of my house in his running gear. He lets me set the course, and I guide us on a seven-mile loop through town and up around the Pickwick estate.

  We have long stretches of silence when we’re pushing our muscles to the maximum on the hills, and then we have long periods along roads or fields where I talk, volunteering information about my relationship with Talia, Finn, and what transpired with Danny Bourdain. Dylan doesn’t weigh in with his opinions. He doesn’t prod me with questions about LA or Talia, which is one of the things I like about Dylan. He’s a good listener. Maybe it’s from all his hours of therapy, or maybe it’s instinctual for him. He grunts or says Ah throughout, but he lets me essentially unload every thought in my head.

  When we arrive back at my home as the early summer heat sets in, we drink out of the kitchen faucet and wipe off the sweat with a roll of paper towels.

  “You have a big day ahead of you,” Dylan says. “Some apologies to make.”

  “You think?”

  “Probably some groveling, too.”

  “Think it will work?”

  “Yeah, it should. First, you need to repair your friendship with Bash and get that business shit straightened out. That should be easy. Talia could take a lot more effort, though. Just say the right things.”