“Only the truth.” He chuckled, draping an arm around my shoulder. He looked at his mom as he spoke. “This is the biggest pain in my ass. The most obnoxious, impossible woman I’ve ever met.”
“That’s funny, because you’re the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met,” she said, throwing her head back in laughter as he dropped his arm from my shoulder, took a step forward, and lifted her into his arms with ease.
He twirled her around as she laughed and honestly, if it wasn’t his mother, if it was some other woman, the jealousy singing through me would have killed me. It was adorable to watch him with his mom though. He set her down and when she caught her breath she walked over to me, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me to her.
“I’m Iris,” she said. Ir-is, not eye-ris. I frowned.
“What is your background?”
“Born and raised in Iowa.” She smiled at my confusion. “My parents are from Spain.”
“Oh wow. I didn’t know this.” How did I not know this? “My mom was born in Venezuela,” I said proudly. “She was raised in New York, but she speaks perfect Spanish.”
“Do you?”
“Not perfect, but I try.” I looked down, feeling as embarrassed as my grandmother would likely feel about that.
“There’s no shame in that. You have the rest of your life to perfect it.” She was smiling but she kept looking at me like she was trying to figure me out. How much had Nathaniel actually told her about me? I should’ve asked before we got here. This was unnerving. She turned around. “Well, make yourself at home. Everyone’s out back enjoying the last of these cool, but not too cool nights.”
Over the next hour, I was introduced to friends, cousins, aunts and uncles. My dad was there, talking to a group of men, and he interrupted the conversation to introduce me to them.
“I remember you when you were a little girl,” one of them said. Puck, I thought. I didn’t remember him at all, so I smiled and nodded.
“Did you work at the main brewery?” I asked.
“Yep,” he said. “Been working there since I was a teenager.”
“Wow. And you still wake up every morning and go there willingly,” I said.
“Of course I do.” The old man howled out a laugh. “I don’t know what I would do without it.”
“You don’t have to lie just because you’re in front of my dad. I’m sure he’d forgive you if you told us how much you hate that place.” I smiled at him and looked at my father, standing beside me.
Dad chuckled, putting an arm around me and pulling me toward him. “You see why she’s my favorite.”
“I see,” the old man said. “She’s a Winston Rose clone.”
I laughed. It was something I’d heard throughout my life. Everyone thought I was just like my dad. For a long time, I denied it and got angry when people said that to me, but I’d come to realize that they weren’t wrong, and there was nothing bad about it. We kept talking, Dad, the old man, Nathaniel, and me. Everyone was so laid-back and . . . normal. I was so used to having to watch my back at parties and events that I really didn’t know how to act in this setting, where no one seemed to want to kiss my ass in order to get to the person I was with and where I wasn’t left, even for a second, to go mingle with other people. Wherever Nathaniel walked, he made it a point to bring me along and introduce me and include me in the conversation.
I know I’d said I didn’t want to make this official or label it, but standing here in front of all these people including my father, the whole thing seemed dumb. Why shouldn’t I be able to hold his hand publicly or let him hold mine? And so, as we stood there talking to my father, the urge to keep him close grew.
“I heard Nate’s doing big things with the brewery. Opening up a new bar brew and all that,” the old man said.
“Presley’s the one doing that, actually.” Nathaniel grinned. “She’s the brains behind the whole thing. I came in late as an investor.”
“If it wasn’t for that investment there would be no bar brew to open up,” Dad said, raising an eyebrow.
I felt like a child again, where all the men spoke about things in tongues I couldn’t understand, except now I understood it. But I didn’t know I was supposed to be reading between the lines as I listened.
“I’m sure the investment helped, but we’d been talking about opening the bar for a while,” I said, looking at my father.
He glanced away, as did Nathaniel. The old man sipped his beer and looked elsewhere as well. And people wondered why women weren’t super comfortable amongst men. One of these men conceived me, raised me, was the first person to hold me when I was born. The other had been inside me countless times now and was possibly hoping to make things official. The third I didn’t know, but he’d known me since I was a kid and worked for my mother. And yet they didn’t treat me like I belonged in their little circle. How fucking dare they? I took a deep breath and excused myself.
“I need to find a bathroom,” I said lamely.
I wasn’t going to act like a brat during Nathaniel’s birthday party, especially not when it was the first time I’d ever visited his mother’s house, but that didn’t mean I needed to stand there and feel uncomfortable either. I’d experienced that sensation numerous times over the last five years, not knowing why until Adam’s infidelity became a truth rather than an inkling. I knew this wasn’t the same thing by any stretch, but that inbuilt insecurity was sending painful tugs to my heart all the same, and I hated the angry heat I felt in my cheeks.
When I got to the kitchen I found his mother.
“Do you need help?”
She looked up from the cupcakes she was re-arranging. “No, I got this. Did you need anything?”
“I came inside to use the restroom, but I don’t know where it is.”
“First door to your left.” She pointed.
“Thank you.” I headed there, taking in the pictures on the walls outside it.
Once I was finished washing my hands, I stepped outside and looked at each picture more carefully. Nathaniel’s age ranged from a baby to more recent. Unlike the pictures in my childhood home, these weren’t only his big accomplishments, like winning a big game or graduations. They were everyday pictures: him and his parents at the park, him eating a hotdog at a baseball game, graduation, taking communion, fishing with a man I assumed was his father, sitting beside his father on a bench while eating ice cream. I felt him come up beside me, but didn’t look away from the pictures.
“You look identical,” I whispered.
“Yeah, people always say that.”
I glanced up at him. “What do you think?”
“I think I look a lot like him.” He looked at the wall. “I have better pictures upstairs. If you want to see them.”
I nodded and followed him upstairs. The house wasn’t very big, but it was cozier than the mansion I lived in growing up. Memories coated the walls and accent tables as we walked to the end of the hall, where Nathaniel opened a door and waited for me to catch up and walk in first. Upon crossing the threshold I knew it was his childhood room. The walls were navy-blue and adorned with New York Yankees memorabilia. I’d always had a fascination with people who kept their children’s rooms untouched once they left for college, as if time would stand still and they’d be able to welcome them back into the same small corners that had kept them safe throughout life. My mother got rid of our house before my high school graduation. She said we’d overstayed our welcome in it anyway, and moved in with her then-boyfriend while I moved into an apartment with my best friend and college roommate.
Memories were just reminders of the past. They weren’t something we held on to at our house. I’d adopted a mentality that we had to walk through life as fast as it would allow and tangible memories didn’t really have a place in that. Now that I was here, in this house that was more homey than any other I’d ever known, I was lost for words. I walked around the room in silence, picking up each picture. Most were of him and his father—fishi
ng, ice skating, playing baseball, basketball, at the farm, at the brewery. Those made me smile, though my emotions were marred by the realization that my father would soon be gone and we only had pictures from this last year together.
True to his personality, Dad hadn’t even spoken about his health in weeks. He wouldn’t let me go to the doctor with him or stand in the room when he was on a call with one. I was going based off his flittering comments—I won’t be here one day. I wonder if you’ll miss me when I’m gone. Maybe we should just start watching ball games here and stop traveling to them. That was the latest one he’d dropped on me, which was consequentially the one that made me freak out. I’d been holding it in because I couldn’t talk to anyone about it—not even Nathaniel. I’d given my father my word and I wouldn’t break it, but times like these it really hit harder than usual. I set the last one down and blinked away the emotion in my eyes before looking up at him.
“What happened to him?”
“Died in a car accident.” He gave me a sad smile. “They said it was quick, hopefully painless.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Do you miss him?”
“Every day.” He shoved a hand in the front pocket of his jeans and leaned against the doorframe.
“Tell me about him.”
He stood tall and walked inside. His presence seemed to fill what was left of the small room as he closed the distance between us. He picked up the frame I’d just put back, the one of them standing by one of the beer tanks.
“He was a great father,” he said, speaking to the picture. “Hands-on, hard-working. He picked up a lot of shifts, but never once missed a baseball game. They say time heals wounds, and I guess it does, but most of the time I still feel a hole in my chest when I think about him. Today is normally difficult for me.” He set the picture down and glanced at me. “He died on my birthday.”
“Oh my God.” I gasped, setting my hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It was a while ago.” He shrugged. “You would think it would get easier to get through the years, but it still sucks. That’s why Mom always hosts this huge party. I think it helps her forget about it, you know?”
I nodded even though I didn’t know. I stepped closer so I was between his feet and wrapped my arms around his middle, hugging him tightly. I didn’t say another word, because I was crying and was hoping to hide my tears as my cheek rested against his black T-shirt. I thought back to when I’d first met him and that whole spiel he’d given me. He was eighteen then, and had probably lost his dad not too long before. I’d been so caught up in my own life that I hadn’t even considered what his life must have been like. I hadn’t cared. God, how horrible I’d been back then.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He pulled back, lifting my face, his brows pulling in. “Don’t cry, baby.”
“I can’t help it.” I let out a shuddered laugh, wiping my face. “I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t kidding when I said you were my present.” He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me lightly. “Everything I’ve ever dreamed up wrapped into one beautiful package.”
I smiled against his lips. Timing really was everything. Fourteen years ago, I wouldn’t have pictured myself standing in this house, let alone this room, kissing him. Today, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. There had been many frustrating, anger-filled moments that had brought us to this moment, and as much as I hated the bickering with him, feeling judged, believing myself less than him, he hadn’t been wrong in how he’d described me. And yet, here we were, and I couldn’t be sorry for the tribulation and heartache that had brought us to this time—our time—except the heavy loss he’d experienced.
Thirty
Nathaniel
The thing about falling was that it didn’t happen the way everyone imagined it. Sometimes it happened slowly, over time, and other times you found yourself waiting for the other person to catch up. Sometimes I thought I fell for Presley Rose the first time I set eyes on her, this redhead wearing a cheerleading outfit, throwing a fit in the middle of a rainstorm. Other times I tried to see reason and tell myself it was impossible for me to have fallen for her that day, with her poor attitude and outlandish imagination. She was the kind of girl who under normal circumstances would have never given me a second glance. I was a public school nerd disguised as a jock, and she was a fucking princess, draped in designer clothing, with shiny rings on her fingers. She was unattainable and somehow, someway, years later, I’d managed to get her, and even if it was just temporarily, I would bask in it until it was over.
I kept going over it in my head as I walked to my office. If anything, last night had solidified my feelings for her. I wasn’t going to tell her that just yet. She needed time to sort out her own feelings and I wasn’t in a rush. I’d waited a long time already. Surely, I could deal with waiting a little while longer for her.
Thirty-One
I was standing outside the conference room, waiting for Victor to come out. It seemed like everyone was in there except for me. For some reason, Dad hadn’t invited me in. No. Not “for some reason.” He hadn’t invited me in because he was going to say things he didn’t want me present for, though I couldn’t imagine what he could possibly say that I didn’t already know. I leaned against the wall across from the door and waited like the good girl I was. The door opened. I straightened, waiting. One of the lawyers that wasn’t Victor stepped out. He shot me a look that I could only describe as what the fuck just happened? My heart sank. What the fuck had happened in there? I waited. Two more men walked out with a shell-shocked expressions on their faces that didn’t help the anxiety rising inside me. Then, Nathaniel stepped out. He looked utterly pissed, his ears were red, his hair looked like he’d ran his fingers through it a million times in there, and unlike his expression before he entered the room—which had been warm and sexy—the one he shot me now was absolutely horrifying. His eyes narrowed at me before he stormed away.
I took a step toward him. “Nath—”
“Not now,” he barked.
I froze. Even when he’d been mean to me in the past, he hadn’t spoken to me like that. He didn’t even turn around to acknowledge me as he stalked away. My phone buzzed. A text from my divorce lawyer that read, “Congrats! You’re divorced. Officially. Docs are in your email.” I couldn’t bring myself to be totally excited about it, but I let out a relieved breath. At least one thing was going fine today. I knocked on the door and peeked inside. It was down to my dad and Victor, who looked like he was about to cry, and that was when I knew what had just taken place. It was my father’s goodbye, maybe even his will planning, who knew, but he’d definitely told everyone what I’d known for the last eleven months—he was dying. The knot formed in my throat the way it always did when I allowed myself to think about that, as I walked over and took a seat across from Victor, next to Dad.
“You told them.” I kept my gaze fixated on the table.
“It was time,” he said simply. “I need to discuss some things with Victor.”
“Okay.” I swallowed again, trying to extinguish the burn of his dismissal right after Nathaniel’s. I looked at my father, sitting across the table. “I need to know what you told them before I go.”
“I told them things aren’t looking promising for me,” he said simply.
“What does that mean?” I spoke over the rawness in my throat, fighting a current of tears that threatened.
“It means what you think it means.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk about this so matter-of-factly.” I swallowed once more, and stood up. “I wish you’d take into account that everyone here loves you and news like this hurts.”
Dad didn’t say a word. He tore his gaze from me and looked at his hands folded in front of him.
“I’ll call you later,” Victor suggested. “Right now, Winston and I need to settle a few things.”
I walked toward the door without another word.
“Come
by my place tonight, Pres. I want to talk to you,” Dad said as I walked out.
I nodded my agreement and headed to the brewery. The staff had started working a few days ago, though we hadn’t had our official opening yet. The dating event on Friday would serve as our start date. The bartenders, servers, and extra hands for the brewery were all eager to be here according to Ezra and from what I’d seen, they were all very well-equipped to handle their jobs. I went to the office in the back and closed the door, hoping to concentrate on the bills I had in front of me, but all I could think about was Nathaniel’s anger as he’d walked out of that conference room. Would he want me to go by his place later? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure, but I would go anyway. I wrapped up what I had to do and headed back out, waving at everyone as I left. It was already six thirty, and I knew Nathaniel would be home. He’d been getting home early every day since I’d started staying at his place. I didn‘t expect today to be any different.
I unlocked the door and walked inside. He was sitting in a barstool in his open kitchen, his shoulders hunched over as he stared at the glass in his hands.
“Hey.”
He didn’t look up. I licked my lips and walked closer, standing on the other side of where he was.
“So, he’s dying,” he said after a long bout of silence, still not looking at me.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“He didn’t tell me that when he sold me half the company.”
“Does . . . do you wish you hadn’t invested in it now?”
“It’s business.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I have plans for it that’ll make the investment worth it in the long run.”
“You haven’t looked at me since I got here,” I said. He looked at me then, and I almost wished he hadn’t. His eyes were red and anger was still there on the surface, ready to spill out. “You’re mad at me.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” He stood up. “I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”
The Consequence of Falling: New York Times Bestselling Author Page 17
