Love You Like a Romance Novel

by Megan Derr

  "And stole the golden child with a nightingale voice on my way out," Jet said tightly. "That's actually how they used to describe him, when he was a kid. Nevermind nightingales don't actually sound all that awesome. It wasn't much of a fight, really. My dad was never much for shouting; he dug deeper by being quiet."

  The car stopped at a red light, and Allen twisted in his seat to peer at Jet for a moment. "See, whenever I hear the story, there's usually less bitterness and more awe involved. Aren't most stars like you revered in their hometowns?"

  "Not in this neighborhood," Jet said. "But, yeah, the rest of the city loves us. Dai and I didn't just say 'let's leave and become stars'. It took us years of school and crappy bars and all of that. Our parents just paid so little mind to our stupid hobbies … but yeah, we have a solid base here, just not amongst our elite neighbors."

  "You might be surprised."

  Jet sincerely doubted that, but didn't have the energy to argue.

  "So where do you want to go?" Jack asked when the silence stretched on.

  "Hmmm …" Jet pondered, then pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text. A reply came back almost immediately and he smiled. Sending off a thanks, he said, "Take me to California. I'm going to crash at the house of a friend who isn't using it this time of year."

  Allen looked at him in the rearview mirror. "What friend?"

  "Malcolm Osborne."

  "Ah," Jack said. "Very well. We'll let you know when the airport is close. Get some more rest."

  Too tired to argue, Jet complied.

  Track 12: Father and Son

  Jason looked around the front room of the office building, breathing in the scents of old wood, polish, and the lavender wafting through the open windows. Sunlight spilled through the windows at the front and side of the old house converted into offices, turning the wooden floor to gold.

  Stepping through the door in the back, he took in what would be his office, already able to picture how his furniture would be laid out. The entire left-hand wall was windows, meaning he'd have plenty of natural light most of the day. Built-in bookshelves, plenty of space for his desk and chairs for clients. A good couch, minifridge … a few more touches and the place would be even better than his office at the firm.

  Pleased, in as good a mood he could be under the circumstances, he went back out into the main room to rejoin Leigh. "It's perfect. When is the furniture arriving?"

  "Later today," she replied. "A few hours, actually. We should have the office running on bare bones tomorrow, and by the end of the week everything should be good to go. There's always fine-tuning, of course, but the worst of it will be done. Rich will be here to supervise all of that, and he should be bringing the filed paperwork back to me. All that's left at this point is to cut all formal ties with the firm. The clients you retained have all been contacted and informed of your new address. I've confirmed with all their assistants and most of them personally; the only one I haven't is in Australia right now so I don't think we'll hear from them any time soon."

  Jason nodded. "Good. I'm glad you're with me, Leigh. I could not manage without you."

  "I had an initial meeting a few days ago with your accountant and he seemed very promising. Seemed very excited to be working with you, too." She tilted her head thoughtfully, pursed her lips, and stared at him. "He looked familiar."

  "I thought the same thing when I met him, but I couldn't figure out why," Jason said with a shrug. "Didn't you say you'd met him before, though?"

  Leigh shook her head. "I just knew the name because my brother-in-law talks about him. I'd never actually met him until Friday." She hesitated.

  "What?"

  "You really haven't met him before?"

  "No," Jason said, growing annoyed. "Why?"

  "Nothing, never mind," Leigh said. "He's friendly, easy-going, and smart as hell. I think he'll be a good fit. I've scheduled for you to interview him yourself tomorrow, here. I've also started scheduling meetings with various clients for Monday, They're eager to check in and see for themselves that all is well despite your move. The gossip is flying all over the firm from what I hear. Not a pleasant place to be these days. Glad I'm not there."

  Jason grunted in agreement. "Speaking of the firm, I'm off to meet with my father and sever ties with the firm once and for all." He touched his forehead, which still felt strange without the stitches in it. The doctor had assured him several times the scarring would be minimal, though Jason didn't particularly care. Even if he did, his hair would hide it.

  The only thing he really cared about was the fact he had not seen his lover in nearly two weeks and they'd barely exchanged more than texts while Jet played the part of well-threatened and running scared. Jason sighed as he dug his keys out of his pocket and slid behind the wheel of his car. He winced when his still-sore fingers flared briefly with pain, but there was little he could do about them except take meds, and he had already taken all he was willing to. At least he could drive. He would have killed someone if he'd had to continue being chauffeured around.

  He pulled up in front of his parents' house, parking on the street rather than in the driveway so his father couldn't do something petty like have his car blocked in. Picking up the folder full of papers in the passenger seat, he walked slowly down the driveway, down the side of the house, to enter through the kitchen.

  "Mother," he greeted. She smiled stiffly in that way of hers that said she was trying to pretend that either things were fine or would be fine again very soon. He kissed her cheek and let her fuss over him for a few minutes before he finally slipped away to his father's study.

  "You're late," his father said curtly.

  Jason ignored that because he wasn't and had no interest in starting off the conversation with such petty antics. His father wanted to ruin his temper straight off, but he needed to remember that he'd been the one to teach Jason. "I've brought all the paperwork. Do you have my severance pay?"

  "You know that if you would just cut ties with David and Jefferson, assure the right people that all is well, that you could stay. The firm was meant to go to you someday."

  Jason shrugged. "I don't want it if it means severing ties with the two people most important to me. We've had this discussion; I'm not rehashing it."

  "You're a fool."

  "Already had that discussion as well," Jason said implacably. "I have done what you've asked my entire life. I've lived up to your every expectation and followed in your footsteps. I've never needed you to defend me or have my back on anything—except for this, and you were the one who threw me out. Don't try to coax me back now, especially since you're not saying that you're sorry as much as you're saying that you'll take me back and forgive me if I do what you want. That's not the same thing. Let's face it, by this point you're more upset that I took so many clients with me. Take the papers and give me my check."

  Face red, but not saying anything, his father opened a desk drawer and pulled out a sealed letter envelope. He slid it across the desk. "The agreed amount, though I would think you're more than compensated in those clients."

  Jason ignored him, opening the envelope and double-checking that they had, indeed, paid him as promised. "Have a nice day, father."

  "Where are we meeting next Monday?"

  "Next Monday?"

  "To sign my brother's business over to me."

  Jason stood up and smoothed out his suit, tucking the check inside his blazer. "My client has not seen fit to inform me that he wishes to sell the business to you instead of Lord Enterprises. For reasons unknown—to me, anyway—he has not seen fit to communicate with me at all. So at present, the meeting next Monday does not include you. If you show up you'll be removed from the premises. Good day."

  He walked out, ignoring when he heard his father call his name. The front door flew open as he walked to his car, but Jason was safely inside it and driving away before his father was able to reach him. He winced, holding a hand briefly to his ribcage, but the pain there was fading quic
kly.

  His phone started ringing halfway to his house, and Jason pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello?"

  "Mr. Kristopherson," Azura said. "Are you free to meet? I have what you asked for."

  Jason frowned, surprised. "Somehow, I thought it would take longer than a couple of weeks. You made that pretty clear."

  "Yes, but something rather unexpected smoothed the way. I'll explain when we meet."

  "I'm headed home now. We can meet whenever you show up," Jason replied. Azura murmured an agreement and hung up, and Jason stuffed his phone back in his pocket, wondering what 'something rather unexpected' meant.

  Pulling his Camaro into the driveway, not surprised to see Azura's car was already there, he went inside and headed straight for his study. Azura sat at the work table, with Mickey standing close by and Tybalt looming by the windows. Jason leaned against the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. "So what is this about, exactly? What made it easier to arrange for me not to be my father's son?"

  "The discovery that you are not, in fact, your father's son," Azura drawled. "We set out to fabricate the matter and found we didn't need to because it was true."

  Jason blinked. He let the words process, but still could not really believe what he was hearing. "I'm sorry—what? It's true? Is that what you're telling me?"

  "Yes," Azura said quietly. "Your father is not your father, no fabrication required. We have tracked down your real father. According to Jack and Allen, you may have already met him."

  "I don't think so," Jason said.

  Azura held out a thick brown envelope. "All the paperwork you could need or want. Your real father's name is Abraham Huxley."

  "What?" Jason said, the name hitting him right between the eyes. "The accountant? He—he came to see me in the hospital. He …" He trailed off, shaking his head, reflexively accepting the envelope Azura still held out. "No wonder he looked familiar. I'm an idiot." He moved around his desk and sat down, needing badly not to be standing right then.

  He really shouldn't have been surprised and it shouldn't have mattered. That it was true made everything easier. But all he felt was a cold rage—for all the years wasted because he'd thought Jet was his cousin, for the current lack of Jet in his life because his father—because Henry and the rest of the firm—was keeping them apart.

  Jason couldn't even think straight. "Thank you," he said. "So far as I am concerned, we are even."

  Azura nodded and stood. "Feel free to call."

  "The same to you," Jason said. Smiling briefly, Azura motioned to his men and led the way out.

  "Hope it helps you," Mickey said and shut the door, leaving Jason alone.

  Jason stared at the envelope, then opened it with stiff fingers, pulling out a sheaf of papers. He rifled through it, still too discombobulated to really focus, rifling through a pile of correspondence, what looked like a contract … and pictures. He picked them up and thumbed through old, faded photos of a man who could have been himself. There was one of Abraham at a holiday party, another was a group photo that also contained his parents—well, his mother and Henry, he supposed. Another of just Abraham and his mother. So Abraham had worked for his father at some point?

  That must have pissed him off like nothing, Jason thought dully. Part of him sympathized, but most of him … well, no wonder Henry had always been particularly bitter about Dai's running off. And what about Abraham, who was clearly not far away and had … what, watched from afar? Had he really, all this time? He'd snuck into the hospital to see Jason … no wonder he had been so quick and vague. Jason's stomach knotted as he thought about how Abraham must have felt through the years.

  He wanted to hit something. They could have told him! He'd had the right to know. It was not as though he would have just abandoned the people who had raised him. Not then. But his own goddamn father should have been allowed to know him, and he'd had the right to know his own real father. It wasn't as though Abraham was some bastard, not if that one brief encounter and Leigh's impressions were anything to go by.

  Jason let out a shuddery breath and set the pictures aside to begin going through the paperwork. The most important piece, when he was done sorting it out, was the contract forbidding Abraham to contact him in any way or reveal the truth to him. Jason felt sick all over again, but the lawyer part of him immediately began picking the contract apart. Destroying it would be cake. It had obviously been drafted before his father was very good at such things, and contracts had never been his strong point anyway.

  He read through all the correspondence next, mostly letters from his mother to Abraham. They were sweet at first, but grew frantic and then outright panicked, then angry and hostile—clearly Henry's influence. Jason was surprised she'd written anything down at all and would bet all he owned that Henry thought all such letters long destroyed.

  It looked as though the affair had lasted a few years. Huh. He hadn't thought his mother had that in her. She seemed more the use-them-for-the-night, at most the week, type. As the letters were all from his mother, that meant Azura had obtained copies of Abraham's papers.

  Jason wondered where his father kept their copies, because they weren't in any of the secure locations Jason knew about. Safe deposit box, he'd bet. Well, it hardly mattered.

  He found an envelope at the bottom of the stack, faded and worn, thick and stiff from its contents. Opening it, Jason pulled out more photos, and it felt like someone stuck a knife in his stomach and twisted it when he realized his mother had sent pictures of him to Abraham. There were only fifteen in all, from when he was a baby up through what looked like his senior year of high school. His age and the occasion of the photo were written on the back of each in his mother's neat, elegant hand.

  Abraham … what had he thought of Jason all these years? How might his life had gone if … but there was no point in going down that road, they were long past it. Still, it ate at him to think Abraham had been there the whole time, watching but never seen. Had he approved of all he'd seen, was he content with the way his son turned out? Why did it suddenly matter what a man who was mostly a stranger thought of him?

  Setting the pictures down, Jason rubbed at his temples, willed the whirling thoughts and emotions aside. He thought he was used to anything after all he had been through over the years. Apparently he was wrong.

  He balled his trembling hands into fists and rested his head on them. He had been more than prepared to fabricate such a lie just to screw his parents over and finally be free to stand with Jet. He had been willing to live with the consequences of doing such a horrible thing to the people who had raised him. He was sure he should not be so angry to learn that they had instead lied to him all along, but he was anyway—because at least his lie would not have left a lonely father with nothing but scraps of his son's life.

  How had Abraham endured it?

  Jason swallowed, aching to call Jet—but Jet would only fly home to comfort him and that would jeopardize all the long term plans Jason was working on. No, there would be time enough to let Jet drown the world out later.

  For the present … He pulled out his cellphone and called Leigh.

  "Hey, boss," she greeted. "How'd the meeting with your father go?"

  "As expected," Jason said. "I was calling because I-I need Abraham Huxley's number."

  Leigh was silent a moment, then said, "Sure, boss. Just a second; I need to get the card you gave me." She vanished for a second, then reappeared and rattled off the number for him. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly. "You sound … off."

  Jason laughed briefly. "Why did you ask all those questions about him, earlier?"

  "Uh, well …" She sighed softly. "Why do I think you already know the answer to that? He looks just like you, boss. Like an older, still stupidly good looking version of you. It's funny, you know? Up until I met him, I would have sworn you looked like Henry. You definitely have some of your mother in you, at least from the few times I've seen her. I would have sworn up and down you and your br
other looked a lot alike. But then I saw Huxley and realized you didn't look a thing like Henry. It was crazy, seeing him. Like seeing a-a ghost or something. But you didn't seem aware of it and I didn't want … but you know now."

  "Yeah, I know now," Jason said.

  "I'm sorry," Leigh said quietly. "It must be a shock." Jason just laughed again. Leigh made a soft noise and said, "Want me to call him, boss? You sound rocky. I'll see if he can come see you there, or if he wants to meet you somewhere else. All right? Want me to tell him why?"

  "Yes," Jason said. "He should know why I want to see him and choose whether or not—"

  "Oh, don't even say that," Leigh cut in. "He agreed to work for you. He must have known somebody would notice you're Hottie Senior and Hottie Junior. Go pour yourself a drink, and I'll call you back in a few."

  She hung up and Jason dropped his phone on the desk. In lieu of a drink, however tempting, he went to change into more casual clothes. He didn't want to feel like he was in a damned business meeting when he properly met his father for the first time.

  The words didn't seem quite real.

  In his bedroom, he stripped off his clothes and threw them aside. From his closet he pulled on jeans and a dark green polo shirt, then sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on white socks. He combed his fingers restlessly through his hair, then sighed and left his bedroom.

  Downstairs, he had a missed call and a text from Leigh. He read the text first. He's meeting you at your house in twenty minutes. If you need anything, give me a call.

  Setting the phone down again, he went to make coffee mostly just to have something to do. Unfortunately, coffee only took two minutes at best to start brewing, leaving him with a few more minutes still to kill. Was it stupid to be nervous? How must Abraham feel?

  Jason ran his hands over the thighs of his jeans. He jumped when the doorbell rang, sucking in air and letting it out on a ragged breath. Calling himself an idiot, he headed for the front door and unlocked it, then slowly pulled it open.