New York Billionaires Series

“Sure,” he says. His gaze flows from me to his screen, like I’m nothing. “Sounds good.”

I leave his office without looking at Tim, and in the stairwell, my tears turn into muffled sobs.

Another week passes without a text or call from Audrey. Another week, in other words, with time to mull over her fucking words. She’d used we might as well and how about we like it was some sort of mutual decision. Like she hadn’t already made it and was now forcing me to live with the consequences.

I was furious with her at first, for focusing on what my father did, when that was never my crime. How long can I pay for what he did? Then I was furious at my father, again, and for an entirely new reason. For still, almost a decade later, fucking up my life and ruining one of the best things I’ve ever had.

For changing the way she looked at me.

And finally… me. I swirl the brandy around in my glass and keep my gaze on the amber liquid, away from the eyes of anyone who might want to small talk. Now I’m finally furious with myself for letting her walk out of that office.

For not taking the fight.

But it had hurt like a damn freight train to hear her give up. To hear the pain in her voice, and still have her make that decision. Lead me toward it like she was a guidance counselor. Like it wasn’t even worth an argument.

People claim to love me, and then they leave.

The brandy burns going down and I enjoy every painful second of it.

“You look happy,” a voice says at my side. Calm, collected, an undertone of concerned sarcasm. He’s using his dad voice on me.

I turn to Tristan. “My drink’s empty.”

He gives a thoughtful nod and leans against the wall beside me. We both look out at the mingling group of people filling the inn. Anthony and Summer, Cecilia and Victor, mother-in-laws and aunts and uncles. Freddie is sitting in the center, holding court. There’s no sign of a bump yet.

Tristan must be ecstatic. For the first time, I hate him a little bit for it. For the unconditional love she gives him.

“You’re staring,” he says softly. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?”

Fuck it. I throw my pride to the wind. “How did you get her to love you? Without leaving when she found out about your flaws?”

Tristan’s lips quirk. “You’re assuming I have flaws, Kingsley.”

“Be straight with me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this about Audrey and why she’s not here?”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“I asked you a question first.”

“So that’s a yes,” he says. “Okay then. I have tons of flaws, as does my wife, you know. Everyone does. But if you love someone, that’s insignificant in contrast.”

“Yes, but how did she overlook yours?”

“She loves me too,” he says. “For some goddamn reason, and I’ll never stop being grateful for it, or trying to deserve her. But why don’t we start at the root of this? Tell me what happened with Audrey first.”

I narrow my eyes at him, but he just gazes serenely back at me. Unshakeable, this man. Always has been.

So I set down my glass and turn to him. “Fine. So, my dad’s a piece of shit.”

“Not where I expected you to start,” Tristan says. “But go on.”

I tell him the whole story in a few abbreviated sentences. About my father, about her family, and my own decision to keep it from her. It sounds ugly spoken out loud, and I know even without admitting it that I don’t come off good. Not in any part of it.

“And then she left,” I finish. “She decided it would be easier if we just ended it.”

Tristan nods. “I see. And did you want her to run?”

“What? No.”

“Maybe not consciously, but did it feel safer when she did? Rather than telling her the honest-to-God-truth.”

“The truth,” I say. “And what would that be?”

“That you were terrified of telling her the truth because you suspected she’d leave you,” he says. “Like your father did. So you didn’t, but she found out, and now she’s left you anyway. Just like you secretly predicted. Confirms your story, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck you,” I say quietly, and mean it.

Tristan’s eyes soften. “It’s not easy to hear any of this stuff. I know, Kingsley. Trust me. But from the look on your face… you want her back.”

I look out the window at the falling leaves outside. This is a charming little city. I wish Audrey would be here to see it, too. “Yes,” I admit. “More than anything.”

“Perhaps she came up to your office hoping you would convince her to stay, you know. Hoping you’d tell her that everything would be okay? Perhaps even wanting you to apologize?”

I groan. “I didn’t do any of those things.”

“No.” Tristan’s voice is tinged with faint hesitation when he speaks again, like he knows he might be overstepping but won’t stop. “You were already protecting yourself, I’m guessing. Had your wall all the way up?”

I close my eyes. Idiot, I think. She was right there, and with her soft eyes on mine, asking me to reassure, to apologize, to fight. And I’d been too busy wallowing in my own feelings to see any of it.

“I’ll never forgive myself,” I say.

“Well, that’s a bit harsh,” Tristan says. “I saw how the two of you looked at the dinner a few weeks ago. Do you really think it’s too late?”

“It better not be,” I say. “God, when can I leave this thing?”

He laughs. “I think you have to stay until after the ceremony, at least.”

“Fuck the ceremony. They’re already married.”

“Get out of here first thing tomorrow morning,” Tristan says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Be honest with her about why you reacted the way you did. That’s the secret, you know. To me and Freddie. We’re honest, even when it’s terrible.”

“Couldn’t the secret just be to have a lot of really great fucking sex?” I mutter. “Because I could work with that.”

Tristan chuckles again, looking over his shoulder. But we’re out of earshot. “That helps too,” he tells me.

It feels like an age later until we’re finally all seated outdoors, beneath the shade of an oak with rapidly falling leaves. The water across the pond ripples gently with the wind. A sunny day, as opposed to yesterday’s rain. They’ve chosen well.

Audrey would have enjoyed it. She’d comment on things I don’t notice, like the silkiness of the chair coverings or how pretty the sunlight is through the leaves. I’d take her hand, and look at Victor standing there, waiting for Cecilia to join him.