“No.” The word shot out of me like a bullet. “You and Sheila duped me into thinking marriage was this amazing partnership where we’d support each other and fill in each other’s gaps.”
“But the reality was that you wouldn’t admit you had any gaps or time to support her needs?”
“Have I told you lately that I hate you?”
He cuffed my shoulder. “Telling it like it is, bro. Come on, let’s pack up. I’m starving.”
I scooped up my chalk bag. “You might be a CEO and a paragon of family life, but you’re full of shit. The only reason you made it to where you are is because Sheila is a low-maintenance unicorn. The women I meet want more than I can give.”
He sauntered toward the locker room. “You mean emotional connection and partnership?”
“Fuck you.” I yanked open the door and didn’t bother to hold it open for him. “I have the kind of career that makes it difficult.”
He caught the door as it swung toward his face. “Plus the type of personality that makes it impossible.”
I flipped him the bird. My personality was perfect for what I wanted, which was the CEO position.
Emotional connection? Total waste of time.
The next night, I followed the maître d’ down the aisle of plush patterned carpet between the rows of white cloth–covered tables at my parents’ club. Since my parents always sat at the same table, I could have breezed past the host stand. Though my mother would have scolded me to act like a civilized person, and I needed a strongfirst impression to offset the not-quite-excellent news I had to share.
“Cole.” Mother tipped her head to present her cheek, and I kissed it. Her Givenchy L’Interdit tickled my nose and brought back memories of her bringing me here for lunch after swim lessons, tennis, and golf as a kid. She never let me order from the kids’ menu. Instead, I ate the fish of the day or a filet with green beans as befitted a Campion. By the time I was eight, I didn’t even want to eat a hamburger or chicken tenders with macaroni and cheese.
I straightened and shook my father’s hand, then Mason’s. Finally, I circled the table to my sister-in-law, Sheila, and kissed her cool cheek. She never wore perfume, and I smelled only oaky chardonnay. “Doing all right?” I asked as I took the vacant chair between her and my mother.
“Fine, fine.” She sipped her wine.
“That bad, huh?” I murmured.
A faint smile creased her cheek, then was gone.
“You’re late, son,” my father boomed from across the table. His square jaw was the same as mine, though the lines around his mouth were deep. “Burning the midnight oil?”
I went through the motions of showing my teeth in an approximation of a smile. “It’s only eight thirty. I had some things to wrap up at the office.”
“I like your diligence, but delegation is what you need to cultivate to advance,” he said.
To keep from rolling my eyes, I raised a finger to catch our server’s eye.
“We ordered for you, Cole,” my mother said. “You missed the salad course.”
“Can’t disrupt the Campion schedule,” I grumbled.
“Our nanny gets double pay after eight,” Sheila murmured. “And Mason hasn’t seen the kids all day.”
A weight settled on my chest. “Sorry, Sheila.”
“Show up on time,” my sister-in-law said. “Then you can choose your own meal.” She squeezed my arm, softening her words. “I understand congratulations are in order.”
“What’s that?” my father asked. The server whisked away his empty glass and replaced it with a second—third?—double scotch. He set another down in front of me, and I signaled for an ice cube. If I was going to choke down Lagavulin, I was going to do it my way.
“I got the job,” I said without preamble. The server flashed a congratulatory smile as he used tongs to lower an ice cube into my drink before discreetly retreating.
My mother sucked in a breath. “You’re CEO?”
The peaty whisky burned a path down my throat. “Yes. They’re making a public announcement tomorrow.”
“Congratulations, son.” My father shoved back his chair and came to shake my hand. My mother reached up to clasp my other hand. I let myself bask in the perfection of the moment. Soon, I’d be able to accept their praise for real.
