I turn around, facing him and grimacing at the sneer on his face. “I’m not scared of you, you can’t force me to marry Natalia.”
He’s silent a beat before he pushes out of his chair, standing to his full height as his hands brace on his desk. He leans forward, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I have more power in my baby finger than you will ever have in your whole body.”
“I don’t give a damn,” I say, pulling open the door. “I won’t do it.”
“You will marry her, or I’ll show you what a man like me can do. Blood or not, you won’t defy me.”
His voice comes closer and I spin around to face him in the open door. “Want to bet?”
“Fucking try me, son. Try me and see what I’m really capable of.”
He narrows his eyes at me, turning to face the waitress when she comes back over to our table again to replenish our drinks. “Make it snappy,” he tells the young girl who takes his empty glass. He turns back to me, a sneer spreading across his lips. “And look how that turned out, where is she now, huh? Six feet un—”
“Don’t you fucking dare!” I shout, shooting up out of my chair, my chest heaving as a loud clattering sound echoes around us as the chair crashes to the floor behind me. “Don’t you dare say one more fucking word—”
“Or what? What do you think you can do, huh?” He raises a brow, daring me.
I’m silent for a beat as anger burns a path through my veins. I have to try and control my temper. “You want to see what I’m capable of?” I take a step around the table, bracing my hands on it and looking down at him. “Fucking try me, because I can guaran-fucking-tee you that I have more power than you ever had.”
I watch him, his eyes misting over as he sways side to side. “You won’t do—”
“I fucking will,” I growl, getting impossibly close to his face and holding my breath at the stench that emanates off him. “You were never a father to me, you were an abusive dictator who thought that he could rule my life. Not anymore, old man.” I stand back up to my full height, calmly buttoning up my jacket before looking back up at his angry expression and smirking. “You’ve been gone for a long time, things change, people change.” I pause, letting that sink in before spitting out, “You’re worthless in this city, I’m done with you. Don’t contact me again.” Turning on my heels, I weave in and out of the tables before telling the waitress to put the food and drinks on my tab.
“Don’t you walk away from me!”
I take one last look at him when I get to the door, my gaze flitting over his tired features. He’s not worth my time anymore, he never was. I shake my head before walking out of the door and turning my back on him for the final time. I won’t let him dictate what I can or can’t do, he’s poison and I won’t have him in mine or the kids’ lives.
I call Edward when I get outside, telling him that I’ll be walking back to the office. I need the fresh air to wrap around me and calm me while giving myself some time to think.
I push my hands into my pants pockets, watching all the people rushing to get lunch and heading back to their workplace before their breaks are over. The streets are full of sky-high buildings, offices on nearly all of the floors. I look up at them, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and marveling at the sight of the city.
Ever since I became CEO I feel like I haven’t stopped, my mind is almost always on the job; what I should and shouldn’t be doing, where to go next. It’s been going one hundred miles a minute and for some reason, today it’s stopped. My head finally clearing of everything.
A flash of color on a woman’s scarf has my mind flitting back to the woman I saw flying past the office windows earlier this week. I can’t seem to get the image of her out of my head. I didn’t see her face but if I close my eyes, I can imagine what her face looks like now. I bet it hasn’t changed one bit since the last time I saw her.
Someone barges past me, hitting my shoulder and I open my eyes back up, shaking my head and clenching my hands at remembering her. I don’t want to remember her, I don’t want to think about her or what we could have been had I done ten years ago what I did just now.
Another person barges past me and I narrow my eyes at them; that’s the problem with most of us nowadays, we’re always in a rush, never stopping and basking in all that life has to offer. All we think about is work and what we need to do, our minds focused on the past and what we should have done.
It’s time I slowed down for good. It’s time I put my family first and switch off. I can’t remember the last time I had a full day off, but that’s going to change this weekend. I fully intend to take time out and make memories with Clay and Izzie. I need to be the father that my own wasn’t.
I don’t want Clay to be me in fifteen years, dreading seeing his dad because I wasn’t around when it mattered. I want him to see me as someone that he can come to no matter what. To talk to me about anything and everything; to confide in me.
A smile spreads on my face as I see my building. At least I always have control and know what to do there, that’s never been a question, I’m damn good at my job.
I step into the building and look down at my shoes when I see color out of my peripheral vision, lifting the left one and pulling off the flyer that’s stuck to the bottom.
I chuckle as I read it. The universe must have known that I need a break and something to offer the kids.
I fold it up and push it into my pocket, fully intending to take Clay and Izzie to this on the weekend. They’ve only ever been to clubs at their school—apart from Izzie’s dancing— and they’re always academic clubs; they never get to express themselves like this.
I head toward the elevator, pressing the button for my floor and riding it up. The doors spring open and I walk over to Catiya’s desk.
“Get me the computer tech supervisor, I want a meeting with him in my office in thirty minutes.”
“Erm… the computer tech supervisor?” she asks, a frown marring her face as she audibly swallows.
“Yes,” I huff, impatient that she doesn’t know who the hell it is. “Jared. His name is Jared, Catiya. How the hell do you not know this? You’ve been working here for six months.”
“I… erm… I…”
I roll my eyes and walk away from her as she stumbles on her words. I don’t have time for that.
I push open the front door, my shoulders slumped down and my eyes burning after a long day at work.
All I want to do is to get in the shower then into my sweatpants and relax with the kids. I don’t want to have to think about the board that are constantly asking for my time or the emails that are sitting on my cell unanswered, or the fact that I’ve just disowned my father—something I should’ve done a long time ago.
I start walking toward the stairs but come to a stop when I hear laughter coming from the kitchen.
“More chocolate!” Izzie shouts, making Amelia chuckle.
I spin around, my feet carrying me to the kitchen on automatic before I push the door open, seeing Clay and Izzie standing on step stools on either side of Amelia. The counter is scattered with baking ingredients: flour and sugar covering most of the surfaces.
“Dad!” Clay shouts, jumping down off the stool and running at me. “We’re making cookies! Come and help.”
My muscles lock as I stare at them all having fun as they bake. My mind swirls with memories of Natalia trying to bake with a two-year-old Clay, trying her best to get him to taste the mixture and make ball shapes with the cookie dough.
He loved the taste of the raw dough more than the baked cookies. The day that I came home to Natalia dancing around the kitchen with Clay in her arms as he ate a ball of the raw dough brings a smile to my face that drops immediately when I hear Amelia’s laughter.
Clay grabs my hand, shocking me out of my reverie as he pulls me over to the counter that they have made their baking station.
“Hi, Daddy.” Izzie waves and I can’t help but chuckle when I see her face covered in flour. Wh
en Amelia turns to face me, a burst of laughter escapes me, not able to hold it in as my head tilts back and my body shakes.
“What?” she asks, spinning to face Izzie and then Clay, her brows drawn down.
“You have a little…” I manage to get four words out before the laughter takes ahold of me again, rendering any speech useless.
She frowns even more at my outburst and moves over to the silver toaster oven, catching her reflection and giggling at herself.
“Well.” She clears her throat. “I think it looks kind of cool.” She pushes her shoulders back, embracing it as she struts back over to us, her hips swinging side to side dramatically.
“Daddy?” Izzie calls and I turn my head to her, but I’m too late to see what she’s doing before I feel a handful of flour hit my face and hear her giggles as she jumps off the step stool and runs away.
“I… I…” I can’t believe she did that.
I wipe my hand over my face, the flour not moving at all and making it worse as I manage to spread it all over my dark blue suit jacket. The dry cleaner is going to have a field day with that.
“Ohhhh! Izzie’s gonna get it!” Clay singsongs as I open my eyes, searching for Izzie and finding her on the other side of the kitchen, standing as far away from me as she can get.
“Don’t worry, Izzie!” Amelia shouts coming to a stop in front of Izzie, spreading her arms wide and moving side to side. “I’ll protect you!”
I raise a brow, turning to Clay and smirking. “It’s like that, is it?” I ask, grabbing the packet of flour discreetly. “Boys against girls.”
“Girls are the best!” Izzie shouts, coming from behind Amelia with her hands on her hips. “We beat boys, alll daaay long!”
I chuckle at her facial expressions before slipping my arms out of my jacket and rolling the sleeves of my shirt up.
My movements are slow and measured as I take stock of where Amelia and Izzie are looking; giving away where they’re going to run.
I lean closer to Clay, whispering, “You get Amelia, I’ll get Izzie.”
“On it,” he replies, his face serious and full of determination as he swipes the packet of powdered sugar off the counter.
I whisper-count to three before we both jump forward, chasing after them both. They squeal, trying their hardest not to get hit as they flail their arms about and weave in and out of the kitchen furniture.
Clay misses Amelia three times, getting more on himself than anywhere else before he finally manages to get a little on her.
I let Izzie think that she’s won, but as I’m about to strike and give up the game I’m playing, my foot slips on some errant flour and my arms flail about beside me, the flour spilling out of the packet and causing a flour tornado to surround me.
I cough and splutter against it, not able to quite catch my breath. The flour starts to clear and I spot all three of them as they all stand stock still, watching as I crash to the floor.
My back lands with a thud and I squeeze my eyes shut for a millisecond before opening them and watching the bag of flour in the air, heading right for my face in slow motion.
I groan, knowing that I won’t be able to move quickly enough before it splats me. I close my mouth and eyes, preparing to be covered and just as it hits me, something wet does too.
“Oops.” Amelia giggles and I open my eyes to see her standing over me; Clay and Izzie on the other side, each with an egg in their hand.
“Don’t you—”
Their arms reel back and I bring my arm up to my face as they slam the eggs on me, yolk and slimy egg white running all over me and mixing in with the flour, making one big gooey mess.
My dry cleaner is really going to have a field day with this, but I don’t care, because all that matters is the laughter that fills the kitchen; laughter that is much needed, laughter that I will cherish.
I jump up suddenly, causing them to all squeal and back away. My arms come out and I capture Amelia, rubbing the flour and egg combination all over her as she chuckles so much she snorts.
“Tris!” she shouts as I lift her over my shoulder, smirking at Clay and Izzie.
I ignore her as I step toward the back door and fling it open. “I think you should wash all of this flour off.”
Two sets of footsteps follow me out into the backyard and over the grass as I make my way toward to the pool.
“Don’t you dare, Tristan Carter.”
I throw my head back in a laugh, coming to a stop at the edge of the pool. “You started it,” I say.
“Tris…”
I pull her off my shoulder, throwing her into the pool but she doesn’t let me go and I go barreling into the freezing cold pool beside her.
“Oh!” My breath catches as I watch the flour and egg disperse in the water, turning it from a clear blue to a murky blue.
“Serves you right,” Amelia says, snorting and swimming to the side.
“Damn.” I shake my head as I watch Amelia stand next to Clay and Izzie who are snorting with laughter.
This is what I needed today; to have fun and rid my mind of the constant warring thoughts that swirl inside of it daily.
I drop the paintbrushes into a pot and hang them on the metal rod over by the easels, standing back afterward, admiring them appreciatively.
“Harm?”
“Yeah?”
“Come and help me with this box of paints before I put my back out,” Mom calls.
I chuckle and walk into the back room, bending down and helping her lift the heavy box. “Jeez, you really filled it to the top, didn’t you?” I state.
She shrugs, throwing the box off balance. We struggle to steady it but gain control before we lose our grip again. It happens in slow motion, Mom tries to steady her side but it slips from her grasp, her eyes widening as it crashes to the floor; paint splattering all up the newly painted white wall.
She snorts, covering her nose and mouth with her hands, stifling a laugh. “Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen.” She gives up her fight and bursts out into a fit of giggles.
I stare at the mess on the floor and back up at the wall, smiling at the look on Mom’s face. “I kinda like it.”
She recovers from her giggle fit and gazes over at the wall with a smile on her face. “I do too.”
The myriad of colors has created a splat that reaches halfway up the wall, almost like it was always meant to be there. “Let’s clean the floor up, but keep that on there. It’s the very first piece of art.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulders and gives me a quick squeeze before grabbing a mop and bucket. Checking which cans and bottles are damaged, I decant the paint from the damaged ones into containers—no point in wasting good paint. Then I clean up the ones that are still intact and place them on the shelves they were originally supposed to be carried over to before standing back and admiring my handiwork again.
Satisfied that that is all done, I turn and gaze over the rest of the studio with a giant smile on my face, filled with pride that this is all mine. It’s beautiful and everything that I ever envisioned.
I run my hand over the wood textured surface of the high tables and look up at the copper lights hanging from the old, wooden beams. It’s taken us almost a full month to get the studio how I wanted it, but it’s been worth every grueling hour of work that we’ve put in.
Mom walks into the room with a bottle of champagne and two glasses in her hands, handing me the bottle when she reaches me. “I think we’ve covered everything on the list. Would you like to do the honors?”
I nod and pop the cork, cheering with her as my stomach somersaults with nerves. It’s opening day tomorrow and I can hardly wait, but I’m also scared.
What if I can’t resonate with these kids like I did my last ones? What if I’m a massive failure? I’d like to try and tell myself that that isn’t so—I am after all an optimist, I always have been—but I need this to work, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.
“I’m proud of you, Harmon
y, we both are,” Mom says, tapping her hand over her heart.
My eyes fill with tears at the motion; it’s where she says Dad lives on now.
“I never could have done it without you.”
“Of course you could’ve, you can do anything you put your mind to.” She gives me a soft smile. “But things are better shared with loved ones,” she states matter-of-factly and glugs down the last of her champagne.
Labrinth—Let The Sun Shine
Katrina and The Waves—Walking On Sunshine
I jog down the stairs in my sweatpants, my bare feet slapping against the steps, making me shiver from the cold of the marble. I head into the kitchen, opening the cabinet doors and pulling out all of the ingredients for pancakes. My hand stills as I grab the flour as I realize that I can’t remember the last time I made them.
Placing the bowl onto the counter, I turn the radio on and mix the ingredients together, singing along to the country song that plays throughout the speakers that line the room. It feels like forever ago since I last listened to music, something so simple yet I haven’t done it in so long.
Once I’ve made the perfect batter, I put the griddle on to warm and start making place settings at the kitchen counter just in time to hear little footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Daddy?” Izzie calls, a doll hanging from her hand as she rubs at her eyes.
“Hey, sweetie pie!” A giant grin takes over my face as I crouch down and pick her up, pulling her against my chest and kissing her on the head.
She giggles and pulls back as I start to tickle her, the sound of her laughter making my grin widen even more.
“Is Clay up?” I ask when I place her on the bar stool, pouring her a glass of orange juice.
“Yeah, he said he’s coming down after he’s put his books back in order.”
I smile and run my hand over her blond, wavy hair, turning back to the griddle and pouring some of the mixture onto it.
Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 1) Page 8
