by Mariah Dietz
“He’s right this way, sir.” The man holds out a palm toward the front desk.
“Now?” Tyler asks.
The man flinches, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes, sir. He insists on meeting with you right away.”
“Meeting?” I ask, the word an awkward shape as it leaves my tongue.
Tyler sighs heavily, his hand at my waist loosening. “Why don’t you go get changed and take a car to the event. This might take a bit.” He faces me, his blue eyes roving across my face. “I will be there as soon as I can, before the speeches and champagne.”
“I can wait.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to be late. We should have just stopped and bought some clothes and gone. I had no idea he’d come all the way here.” He stretches his neck, his jaw ticking with impatience. “There should be a bag inside the room. Bring it with you.”
“A bag?”
“A gift.”
“A gift?”
He chuckles, his thumbs brushing along my jaw. “Be careful. If you’re going to repeat everything I say, I’m going to start talking a lot dirtier. To hell with having an audience.”
I feel the stain of embarrassment creep along my cheeks.
He laughs, and though it’s bridled, it’s genuine and calms the butterflies in my stomach. “I’ll see you soon.” He leans forward, kissing me.
29
Tyler
I’m escorted into the conference room like a prisoner. Inside the small room, my father sits at the head of the table, a glass tumbler in one hand.
I take a deep breath, waiting for him to begin yelling, already knowing the points he’s going to hit and ill-prepared for most. After all, my decision to fire Avery was only half logic; the rest was purely personal.
Dad nods at the employee he’s treated like a lackey, waiting for the door to close before turning his attention to me. “You took a very considerable risk yesterday.”
I have to cock my head to the side to ensure I heard him right. My dad isn’t one for small talk. He also doesn’t play mind games when it comes to anger—he saves that for revenge when someone dares to cross him.
I’m still not positive I haven’t.
“I spent most of my flight going over things with Phil”—my father’s right-hand man—“and we agree with your decision. It was risky and impulsive, but Ken Avery was positioned to steal more from us than what we would have gained in litigation, so I stand by your decision.”
I’ve avoided his calls, emails, and texts for nearly twenty-four hours. I know this isn’t all of what he’s come to say, because if it were, he wouldn’t have boarded a plane and come this far. “Where’s Lewis?”
Dad’s smile gives nothing away, calm and reserved as if I’ve just talked about the nice weather or complimented his suit. “Have a seat. Let’s talk.”
I glance at the clock, wondering if Chloe’s still upstairs getting changed or if she’s left for the event. “I have plans tonight. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be coming out here.”
“You wouldn’t. You didn’t answer your phone.” Another sip. This time, his eyes cut to me, the accusation clear.
“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”
“So I’ve heard.” He folds his hands on the table and stares at me, his face impassive, stoic. I’m still not sure what his intentions are, but I do know he’s not going to discuss them until I’m seated. Regardless of which sword my father wields, manipulation always drips from his blade.
I resign and take a seat though it feels like bowing—like lying.
Dad smiles, reaching for his glass again. “Are you really in that big of a rush?”
“I have plans,” I remind him.
“Tell me about her.”
He knows Chloe’s name. I’m sure of the fact. Likely, there’s an entire history of her on company letterhead tucked into his briefcase, complete with grades, past teachers, jobs, and more. A dark side of me hopes it will mention her ex’s name. I try to shy away from that thought, but it festers, making it difficult for me to focus on his question. “What more can I tell you that you don’t already know?”
He flashes a crooked smile. Takes another sip. Sets his glass down. Stares at me.
“She’s bloody brilliant.” I don’t tell him that she doesn’t care about our money or about our name, because he would take that as a slap in the face rather than assurance. It’s a tough line of respect and gratification that he expects.
He grins. “That’s all she has going for her? That’s what’s had you skipping meetings and showing up late?”
My heart pounds in my throat. He’s goading me, trying to get a reaction because in my father’s perverse world, you constantly have to prove something’s worth, and in this case, Chloe is a possession—a liability. “I haven’t been late for a single meeting, and the only meetings I canceled were from today, and that’s only because I knew we’d have to be on-site continuously throughout the merger and construction. It’s absolutely no reflection on her. She helped me figure out what a snake Avery was.”
Dad chuckles. “I know. I was pulling your leg. She seems like a real catch. And from what I’ve heard, much of the staff has been impressed by you—with you. They say you’re asking good questions and finding solutions on the spot. And now, with you finding this issue with Avery…” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t be prouder.”
I wait for the other shoe to drop.
“Have you spoken to your mother lately?”
I work to hide my confusion and try to recall the last time I spoke with her. “Not recently. Is everything okay?”
He nods. “Oh, yes. She’s fine. She’s been busy, though. She’s taking a stained glass class. Can you believe it? Your mum working with stained-glass?” He shrugs. “Apparently, she likes it. Says it calms her down. I thought that was what the house in Miami was supposed to do.” He laughs again as if this is some inside joke, then finishes his drink.
“Stained glass?”
“That was my reaction,” he says, throwing a hand out. “But you know her. This week it’s stained glass, next week it’s salsa dancing.” Another look of disinterest. “How was your drive? I couldn’t believe you lot drove across the country. I can’t imagine sitting for so long. And having to stop and find places to eat…” Disgust tugs at his lips. “How was the Tesla, though? Did it handle well? I heard you can set it to cruise control and watch a film.”
I glance at the clock again. It’s been over half an hour. Chloe’s likely catching a car now, if she hasn’t already. “I don’t know if you’d want to watch a film, but I like it. Powerful, efficient, comfortable. Not much more you can ask for.”
He smiles again, leaning forward this time. “You’ve changed,” he tells me. “Maybe it’s Brighton, maybe it’s having this work experience, but I can tell you’ve changed. You’re thinking like a CEO. You’re seeing the bigger picture and looking out for the business.”
I’m getting whiplash trying to catch up with him, and still, I’m uncertain if this is a trap, half expecting for his face to turn crimson and him to start bellowing about meddling with his company.
“I want you to be my successor.” The words hang in the air like a cloud—something I’m able to see and consider. I’ve been waiting for years to have my father take me seriously. They reverberate, echoing in my ears again and again as we stare at one another.
“What about Lewis?”
“He’ll be a great second—able to help you with whatever you see fit. This was never about me trying to choose Lewis over you. I’ve always dreamed of you continuing the legacy of this company, but I didn’t think you really wanted to do it. I assumed it only meant money and power to you, but now, I see it means a great deal more. You were able to pick out and distinguish an underlying issue without a single person having been suspicious.” His eyes shine with affection in a matching expression to the one I saw when he’d found out about my snack shop in Miami.
“Dad, I’ve always loved t
he hotels. I grew up in the hotels. Jesus, I learned mathematics by listening to grandad talk about stocks and quotas and geography by traveling to the different sites.”
He grins. “It’s in your blood.”
I want to argue and tell him it’s much deeper than just in my blood. I’ve lived it, experienced it, invested my past and future into the business. Still, I’m shell-shocked. Though this is exactly what I’d hoped might happen, it didn’t seem realistic—still doesn’t. I might have been able to recognize that Avery was embezzling, but it doesn’t negate the fact my entire college career was chosen based upon my role as the CEO of the hotel. Or the fact that I spent much of the summer with my father in Australia, working to find the right location for our next site, pouring over land use laws and maps, and statistics to help formulate the best plan for all parties. Or that I’ve helped develop half a dozen other times. It doesn’t negate that I’ve had to step into the laundry room and help run washers when the flu was running rampant through our Oahu location, or that I’ve been petitioning my grandad and father to help pay for education and better insurance for employees in America. This isn’t my first involvement, and though it might come with the largest dollar amount, it doesn’t even feel like that big of an achievement.
Maybe because it still feels personal?
“I appreciate the opportunity. I will continue learning from you and working to uphold our family’s legacy.” The words sound too formal, feel too formal, but it’s my father, after all.
“That’s why I’m here.” He moves so his palms are flat against the table. “Brighton is a great school, but you can go to school anywhere. Every university wants to have you. I spoke with your grandad, and we think it would be best if you transferred to London. We can work side by side, all three of us, and get you ready so that when I retire, you’re ready to take the reins. I know you love football, but it’s a distraction. If I retire in five years, that would only give you three years post-graduation to prepare. You’ll need more time.” He starts on the defense before I’ve even managed to get my thoughts on the offense.
I glance at the clock again. I’ve been in here a full hour.
“I can’t. I mean…” I try to blink through the onslaught of thoughts and scenarios that are drowning me. “I have two years left.” Of freedom. I remind him. “Two years left before my life becomes living out of a suitcase and always being on the road. I want this time.”
“I understand, but you need to be ready, and that involves starting now.”
“Dad…” I start, not even sure where I planned for the words to end because right now it seems pointless as I see the sheath of papers he produces from his briefcase, contracts from different universities around England, universities I’d been expected to attend.
“When?” I ask.
“Now. We leave in an hour.”
“Now? I have friends staying at the hotel. My car…”
He waves a hand. “I’ll have Phil arrange flights for them and for someone to get your car and have it shipped back to Miami.”
“Dad, I can’t—”
His look silences me. “I’ve feared you can’t for a very long time. You need to decide here and now, can you do this job or not? It’s that simple.”
“I have to talk to her first. I can’t leave without explaining this to her.”
He clenches his jaw, his frown growing pronounced. Clearly this wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear.
Chloe
Nessie pulls me toward the champagne and grabs two more flutes, passing one to me. “Did you try those sweet onion bites?” she asks. “Caramelized something or other? Whatever they’re called, they’re delicious. I might need to brush my teeth five times so I don’t have onion breath, but at this point, I’m considering it worth it.” She’s rambling, her pity becoming more apparent as the night wears on.
Cooper stayed at the hotel, claiming he wasn’t feeling well, though we both know that was a lie. And Tyler still hasn’t shown up or called.
“What’s this?” Nessie asks, pointing at a large screen.
“An all-sky camera,” I tell her. “It’s what a telescope is seeing. That’s our solar system.”
Nessie pulls her chin back with surprise. “Seriously?”
I nod. “See that bright dot over here?” She nods. “It’s Jupiter, and this is Saturn,” I tell her, pointing to a smaller glowing ball beside it. “And over here is Mars. If it were cloudy, this would be a way to see the meteor shower, but since it’s clear, we’ll be able to see it outside. But this shows how far each meteor travels and the trajectory to ensure it’s from Perseids because they should all have the same radiant point.”
“Maybe I can get some extra credits if you just keep sharing more information on our way back to Brighton?”
I scoff. This event allows me to flex and show off what I know about space, but Nessie is incredibly bright and talented.
“I’m serious,” she says. “We need to figure out how it could fit into accounting so I can make a case for this with my advisor.”
“Maybe we can share tips on how to file taxes while also discussing space on our travel show?”
Nessie grins. “See? You’re warming up to the idea. I knew you would.”
I laugh, but it’s fleeting, too many of my thoughts are still tied to Tyler’s absence as I carry the gift bag he’d told me to grab. “What do I do with this thing?” I ask.
Nessie licks her lips, looking around the observatory again. It’s beginning to thin as more people go outside to find a seat in the grass. We’ve heard the speeches, the history of the Perseids meteor, and the added and unnecessary fact of it being one of Earth’s greatest threats that had us missing the next speech as I quietly worked to assure Nessie that the chances of it ever hitting Earth were so minimal that she didn’t need to worry. “You should open it.” She nods as though trying to convince both of us that it’s the right idea.
“Let’s go outside. We can open it out there and find a place to sit.”
She nods, finishing her champagne as we move toward the doors, setting the empty glass on a tray.
A man enters as we attempt to step out, causing us all to stop as we nearly crash into one another. We share apologies as we each quickly assess that the other is fine, but when I meet his face, his brows are drawn. “Are you Chloe Robinson?”
I nod, working to place him.
He offers his hand. “I’m Dr. Morgan, from the University of Virginia. I thought I recognized you from your application.”
Dread fills me. The door is steps away, and now I’m about to have another truth rock my world.
“I was so disappointed you couldn’t join us this year. I hope that we hear more from you, though.” Someone behind us calls him by name, and he looks beyond me before excusing himself.
Nessie’s stare is heavy and as loud as a scream as I turn to face her and the aftermath of his words that have revealed another lie, this one not entirely by omission. “You were accepted?” she asks, her voice loud and filled with accusation.
“Yes, but—”
She shakes her head. “You lied to me.” The pain in her words makes my chest ache, but it’s the betrayal in her eyes that destroys me.
“I know,” I tell her. “But I knew you’d try talking me into it.”
Her brow knits as she stares at me. “Of course, I would. Attending this program was your dream.”
“I didn’t want to go,” I tell her.
She shakes her head again, dismissing my words. “I can’t believe you lied to me.”
“Ness…”
Her lips purse as she looks at me, anger vast and endless in her green eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I wasn’t ready to leave this year. I didn’t want to go.”
“But you lied to me about it.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I should have told you. I just knew after talking about this for so long, you would try and convince me to go.”
“You’re
damn right I would have. Because you should be going.”
I stare at her for several minutes, silently pleading with her to understand or listen, but with each second that passes, her eyes become more closed off, and her anger burns brighter. “Cooper was right. I should have stayed with him tonight.”
My heart aches as she delivers the final punch and then spins on a heel and moves toward the door.
She’s right. I crossed a line—the line. Honesty has always been our shared rule. Regardless of boys or jobs or school, we have always had each other and have been able to depend on the other, to be honest.
I follow her outside, calling her name several times, but she doesn’t slow down as she heads in the direction of the parking lot where I know she’s already calling for a ride. The lawn is covered with individuals and groups who are preparing to watch the meteor shower, and for the first time in as long as I can recall, I don’t care about seeing the meteor shower or hearing any of the data they’ll be sharing.
As I turn back to move to the parking lot, I’m unsure about whether I’ll stay or go, only certain that I need to try talking to Nessie again and make sure she’s not standing over there alone because regardless of my proclamation to be unaffected by Ricky, I am. When a man stares too long or walks too close, Ricky is my first thought—my only thought. And I hate the idea of her standing over there alone or possibly with another Ricky.
The heavy bag in my hand bangs against my shin, making me wince, and I nearly drop it as tears of anger at myself and this moment and my regrets ambush me with the excuse of pain.
“Chloe?” My heart thrums as I take a long breath through my nose, trying to clear the signs of tears as I look up at the sound of his voice. It’s useless because the relief of having him here only makes more tears build in my eyes, making my vision blurry.
“Are you okay?” Tyler asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I blink several more times as I shake my head. “I made a mistake, and Nessie’s upset with me.”
Tyler’s hand runs the length of my arm, stopping at my elbow, where he grips me. “I’m sure it will all be okay.” His eyes shift over me, constantly moving like he can’t focus on any particular spot.
