Nyx: What are you up to?
Persy: I’m hanging out with Ford. Need me?
Nyx: No, I wanted to gossip about your hot grumpy neighbor. I guess we’ll have to do it another time.
Persy: Liar. What’s happening?
I smile because she knows me too well.
Nyx: Nothing important, I swear. Talk to you soon.
Persy: Love you, Nyx.
Nyx: Love you, Pers.
As much as I would love to tell her what is happening with Callie, I don’t do it. One of these days, I’ll give her the Spark Notes. I just wish I had someone in my life who was there for me when I feel like the weight on my shoulders is too heavy to carry. Maybe I just have to dump it in some abandoned alley and be done with everyone.
I drive back to my house where I place my leftovers in the refrigerator and put on my pajamas. Instead of turning on the television to find some numbing tv show to watch, I pull out my tablet from my messenger bag and start working on my next case.
Callie isn’t wrong. I don’t have a life. Boring... I don’t think I’m boring. I just don’t have time to let my hair loose and just live for pleasure. I should add that to my to-do list. Maybe at the bottom of it. One day I’ll get to it.
Two
Nate
The principal of my high school always said, “In every situation at least ask five questions. What, when, who, where, and why.” He insisted that we have to ask at least a hundred questions a day to show that we’re indeed thinking. I don’t think I do that, but I never settle with what I’m told. I’m an inquisitive man.
If anyone has a complaint about it, they should take it to Mr. Richardson—may he rest in peace. He was smart and funny sometimes. We had a cool relationship. I guess we grew closer since I visited his office at least once a day, if not twice, until I graduated. I learned a lot about life from him. A lot more than I did from my own father.
Mr. Richardson always had something wise to say.
My favorites, and the ones I still follow are: Never be afraid to try. This is life and there are no do-overs. Honor your word and always be kind. But my mantra is, don’t worry about what others think of you, but be responsible for your actions. Many think I take my life for granted, that I’m the irresponsible, adrenaline junky playboy, Nathaniel Chadwick.
I don’t deny that I have fun racing cars, skydiving, or ziplining, among other fun activities. There’s the occasional rafting through wild rivers. Everything I do, I do it as responsibly as it can be.
Am I a playboy? I’m sure there’s an ample definition in the dictionary describing me or any man like me as a rich manwhore. A few years back I partied a lot and slept my way through every woman who crossed my path when I was horny. Which happened to be often. Not anymore though. I’m a few days shy of thirty-five, and these days I’m more selective of who I invite to play with me.
Make no mistake, I still have playmates, but they are fewer, and I hookup less frequently than I used to. Pretty faces aren’t my requirement. I need a woman who challenges me physically and intellectually. Those women are like hidden gems. They are so hard to find that these days I don’t have time to bother.
Maybe that’s why I have more time to worry about my brother’s personal life. He’s a few seconds from fucking up his life. Since I’m the one who cleans up his messes, I’m trying to be proactive and avoid any mishaps. That’s why I had to jump on a plane from Seattle to New York. He met a woman who has turned his life upside down and lately he’s not using his brain.
Love is making him act like a fool.
One of us is usually the voice of reason, and when it comes to relationships it always has to be me. He’s too…detached. Learning that some hottie who is the total opposite of him has unthawed his frozen heart is surprising. What’s more surprising is that he willingly jumped on a plane to New York because she needs to fix her life. My brother avoids big cities, journalists, and influencers.
She’s a fucking influencer.
These days he’s behaving like a moth towards the bright light. Persephone Brassard is the blaze blinding his common sense. If I don’t stop him, she’s going to hurt him, probably kill him, but he doesn’t give a shit. I should make him pay for fucking with my schedule.
Why do I have to be the one behaving like a responsible adult? Maybe because we didn’t have a good role model growing up.
I wish my father had a few wise tokens to share with us. Langford, my twin brother, and I could have used a little more guidance about life and fewer golf lessons from him. At my age, I understand Dad is clueless. My grandparents sheltered him from the world and he’s not in touch with reality. It might’ve not affected him directly, but that fucked us, his children.
Well, we’re not just fucked because of the way my grandparents raised him, but also because of his divorce. That was a nasty affair. Mom hated that everyone knew her as Mrs. Chadwick or the mother of the terror twins. She lost her identity, and when she came to her senses, she walked out on us. I’m not sure if she hated us too, but maybe she did and that’s why she left without saying goodbye. Even if Ford and I are twins, I tried to shelter him from what was happening. He’s always been the more apprehensive of the two of us.
Needless to say, I’ve had a big attitude since I was six. Teachers hated it, and my peers feared me. I take no shit from others. I did learn how to channel it and use it to my advantage though.
Mr. Richardson used to say, “Mr. Chadwick, I’m not asking you to change. I want you to learn when and where to push those boundaries. You know why your twin brother is in college and you’re not?”
Ford skipped a couple of grades. I love my brother. He’s my best friend. However, we’re very different and I hated it when they compared us. Our IQs are similar, but my attention span when I don’t give a shit about a subject is microscopic, unlike his.
Ford can sit in one place for hours to solve a problem. I, on the other hand, find someone to do it for me. Usually him, while I move onto something that’s a lot more fun. No, I didn’t mooch from him. We have different strengths and interests. We always help each other with what the other needs. That’s why at almost thirty-five we are still a fucking great A team.
He might’ve been ahead in school, but I caught up and we started our own company, LNCWare. I’m the president of the company and handle all the deals, but he’s the brains. Without his products, I wouldn’t be in the tech business. We’d probably just be doing something else, but we’d be the number one at it.
He doesn’t do well with people which is why he chooses to lay low. His current hiding spot is in Denver, Colorado. I live between Seattle and New York, overseeing LNCWare and its subsidiaries. Trying to drag him to either office is almost impossible. He shows his face once in a blue moon. I’m still surprised he traveled to New York, and that he agreed to stick around at least until Friday.
This is what love does to people. We stop thinking and do crazy, stupid things. Which is why I have to be the one asking the questions, what, who, why, when, and how for him. Because I could bet my left nut that he’s thinking with his dick—or worse, with his heart.
I could stay in Seattle and just let him handle himself in Manhattan, but I have to make sure this woman is not using him.
When I arrive at the penthouse, Demetri, my house manager, greets me as the elevator doors open at the foyer. “Mr. Chadwick, it’s good to see you.”
“Hey, D,” I greet him. “Where is he?”
“Your brother is in the library, sir. Everything you ordered arrived a couple of hours ago. The guest rooms are ready too,” he answers and looks at Brock, my Wheaten Terrier. “Do you require me to walk him?”
Brock barks and I laugh because this guy understands more than people want to believe. “You said the w word.” Handing Demetri the leash, I reply, “Of course he wants you to take him along the park. I’ll be in the office. Is he alone?”
“Yes,” he replies.
“Thank you, D,” I say, walking dow
n the hall to the library where I spot the one and only Langford Chadwick sitting at my desk.
He is wearing one of my favorite suits. The fucker couldn’t bother to bring his own clothes. At least he shaved.
“Look at you, showered and looking like a respectable man. You even look like me,” I joke as I enter the library.
He grins, standing up and saying, “I wonder why that is, asshole.”
He hugs me and I pat his back. Even though we’re identical twins, there are a few differences between us. I’m an inch taller, my skin is a shade darker, and my eyes have a hint of gray with the sunlight.
“Where’s your mutt?” he asks, his eyes grow slightly wide. “You just came for a day, didn’t you? You’re going to leave me here to fend for myself until Friday.”
I shake my head. “He went on a walk with Dimitri,” I inform him.
“I’m glad Persy didn’t bring Simon,” he states, and I growl at him on behalf of Brock who’s not a fan of the feline.
The last time we went to visit Ford, he let the cat into the house and that creature kept taunting my poor guy.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“She’s with her publisher,” he answers, checking his watch and then glancing at me. “Look, I know you want me to go to the office, but would you mind if we do it tomorrow? I need to know what happened with her book deal.”
His request annoys the fuck out of me. Sighing, I walk to my computer, switch the username to mine, and pull up the NDA contract so I can print it.
“I wish we had planned this visit,” I confess, turning to the printer and grabbing the papers. “Listen, before we discuss the next three days at the office, let’s go through the NDA. It’ll be nice if she could sign it today before things go any further.”
Ford and I tell each other everything. I know he hasn’t professed his love to her, but I also know he will be doing so within the next hour or whenever she comes back to the house. If I can get ahead of the game, I’ll be able to sleep peacefully tonight.
“No,” he barks.
“Ford, I get it you’re in love but—”
“Stop, Nate.” He lifts a hand, showing me his palm as if he’s stopping traffic. “What Persy and I have is special, and I don’t want to treat it like some kind of business transaction. I understand your hesitation and I appreciate your concern.”
“She’s a fucking influencer, Ford,” I remind him as my pulse elevates and my throat dries from the rush of breathing. “You can’t possibly believe that your picture won’t be on her social media feed the moment you kiss her. This will help you prevent it.”
“I trust her blindly,” he declares, and I feel like he punched me in the gut. Which is when he amends, “You’re my twin, but she’s my soulmate. I understand why you’re asking me to do this, but she needs to know that I trust her with my life.”
Is she taking my place?
This is it. We’re still brothers, but he has someone who’ll come before me. And I know him well enough to understand that no matter what I say, he won’t make her sign shit. He’s never been like this—in love.
What am I supposed to do now?
I could remind him that being in love doesn’t guarantee happiness. Having someone to trust doesn’t mean that she’s trustworthy. Feelings have an expiration date. We lived it with our parents’ marriage. I lived it with… It’s not worth the trouble to even remember my past.
Should I just let this one play out on its own?
This kind of flight doesn’t include a parachute and it should always include a partner. We jump and hope that the other person will hold onto us. That we’ll glide together until the end of time, or forever, if that exists.
More times than not, that’s not what happens. One person always leaves or doesn’t even jump, and we don’t realize it until it’s too late. I’ll have to wait close by then. When he falls to the ground, I’ll be there to pick him up and salvage what’s left of his life from the wreckage.
Poor Langford Chadwick, he’s about to smash his head against the concrete. I wonder if his heart will survive. In most cases, hearts shatter and it’s impossible to put them back together. I speak from experience.
This is almost like looking at a teenager about to crash his first motorcycle against a parked car. We can’t take our eyes away from the disaster. We can’t prevent it. Most of all, we know the damage is going to cause internal bleeding. However, the only way to learn how to drive or in this case, have a relationship, is by getting fucked for the first time.
“You don’t approve,” he confirms, his eyes stare at me pleadingly. He needs me to drop the subject and just support him.
“I’ll be here,” I offer.
“Thank you, though you don’t sound thrilled about it,” he answers. “I thought your motto is, ‘Don’t hesitate to explore.’”
“This isn’t exploring. This is diving into a ditch. You should learn from my experience. Been there, done that. I have the freaking T-shirt, the fucking pictures, and the shards from the wreckage as a souvenir,” I remind him.
“Try therapy, it might be worth it. Persy has a book on how to cope with a loss and renew your faith in life,” he argues, not sure if he’s upset that I’m fucking jaded for the rest of my life or because I’m trying to convince him to stay away from what will be the most catastrophic chapter in his life. “It’s been a long time since it happened.”
“Five years, but who’s counting?” I answer with a shrug. “Since you’re a stubborn son of a bitch, let’s get to work before I get fucking mad. We’re having a conference call instead of a meeting at the office. I anticipated that you’d be with her. Afterward, I have a few meetings at headquarters. We can discuss the rest tomorrow morning and make plans for what’s to come for the rest of the week.”
I dial the number and forget the memories about my shitty love story. He can have his happy bliss for now. We’ll drown his sorrows with alcohol in a couple of years, or maybe months.
Three
Nyx
Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if my parents were normal. Not that I regret my life the way Callie does. It’s just…every time I have personal time off, I wonder if the path I’m following is the right one.
Then I go down the rabbit hole wondering if I would have chosen a different career and what that would be?
Did they fuck my future because I was trying not to be them?
I love them dearly. They are two of the smartest, quirkiest, most loving people I’ve ever known. It’s ironic that they’ve studied society, its structure, and behavior throughout their lives. They dug, analyzed, and wrote books about civilizations. Yet, they don’t follow social etiquette.
Their work is important, and I respect it, but would it be too hard for them to be a little more conventional?
During my college years, I panicked that I’d end up like them while we were growing up. Homeless, poor, and with four kids traveling around the world. At least, that’s the way I saw it back when I was younger. Perception is the key.
We didn’t own a house. Our belongings fit inside our luggage. We had a few things stored at our grandparents’ home in Los Angeles. Mostly pictures and a few memories. Poor Persy. She always got my hand-me-downs when I grew out of my clothes. We never had money to go to Disneyland, buy a car, or buy the latest toys they advertised on the television.
The reality was different. We weren’t poor. We had enough money to live. It was easier to give my sister my hand-me-downs rather than purchasing something we already owned and she’d outgrow soon. There wasn’t a point to owning a car, a house, or furniture if we were always going from one archeological site to another.
My parents were practical. They tried to teach us that material things aren’t as important as our family. Most of all, they taught us to pursue our dreams.
That’s not the way I saw it while growing up though. I swore I wouldn’t be like them. While in college, I worked my ass off to get straight A’s and also to ea
rn enough money to buy a car, a home, and have whatever my heart desired. Once I became a lawyer, I saved enough money for a down payment to buy a house. Since then I’ve upgraded my car three times and I bought a bigger house because it’s a great investment.
My sisters and I go on vacation at least twice a year. In hindsight, I have everything I wanted while growing up.
However, it’s while Eros and Persy are making deals and really reaching for what they want that everything hits me at once. I’m in somewhat of a rut. Again, everyone who sees my life from the outside might think, Nyx has her shit together. Look at her kicking ass in court, owning the latest luxury car, and wearing the trendiest clothes.
For years, I’ve neglected my dreams. Actually, I don’t even know what it is that I want out of life. I’ve been taking care of everyone around me. Eros, who is the oldest of us, needs a full-time babysitter. That’s me. I adore my big brother, but he’s a man child. I have to get him out of the contracts he signs, and he’s always looking for the next big thing that’ll get him his first million dollars while he’s helping others.
Then, there’s Persy. She’s only ten months younger than me. We’re like twins, and even though she’s pretty self-sufficient, I still look out for her. She trusts easily, and even when I’m watching her like a hawk, shit happens. Like her stupid agent stealing millions of dollars from her.
My baby sister, Callie... Well, I tried to be a good role model for her but I’m not sure when I’ll speak to her again. I’m still fucking mad at her.
It is when Persy is signing her new book deal, The Last Swipe: A Guide to Find Yourself, that I realize I don’t know where or who I am anymore.
Ironic, I have a sister who has a blog, a podcast, and books about self-help, and I am lost. Even though I’m smiling, nodding, and paying attention to this meeting, I’m lost. My goals seem insignificant now. Maybe Callie was right when she said I was fucking boring. I only allow myself to have certain moments of fun.
Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds Book 2) Page 2
