"You've survived the Huntington Christmas," he says with another fake smile. "Congratulations."
"It's been illuminating."
"I hope you understand that everything I do is with Caleb's best interests at heart."
"Including offering to pay me to leave him?"
His expression doesn't change. "As I said, that was merely a test of character."
"Right," I say, not bothering to hide my skepticism. "A test."
"You know, James, I've watched my son make many questionable choices over the years. He has a habit of attaching himself to people he thinks will help him rebel against his family." He straightens a cufflink. "These attachments never last. Eventually, he remembers where he comes from, who he is."
"Maybe he knows exactly who he is. And it's not who you want him to be."Choke on that.
He studies me for a moment. "You seem like a reasonable young man, despite your... background. You can surely see that some things are simply not meant to be. The Huntington name comes with certain expectations, certain responsibilities."
"Caleb is more than a name."
"Is he? Or is that what attracts you to him?" His voice drops lower. "Some people are only interested in what the Huntington name can give them, after all."
The accusation hits harder than it should. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough," he replies. "I know about the foster homes, the scholarships, the precarious existence you've built for yourself. I know ambition when I see it, James. And there's nothing wrong with that; it's the American way, climbing the ladder. Just be honest with yourself about what you're climbing toward."
Before I can respond, Caleb appears at the end of the hallway, his expression darkening as he takes in the scene.
"Everything okay here?" he asks, coming to stand beside me.
"Just admiring the Sargent," his father replies smoothly, gesturing to the painting. "James has quite an eye for detail."
Caleb doesn't look convinced, but his mother's arrival prevents further discussion.
"You're not leaving already, are you?" Caroline asks, though her tone suggests she'd be perfectly happy if we did.
"We should get back," Caleb says. "I promised to help with some things at the fraternity."
"Of course," she replies. "Those... fraternity obligations. So important."
The goodbyes are mercifully brief, a series of handshakes and air kisses that contain no genuine warmth. As we wait for the car to be brought around, Caleb II shakes my hand one last time.
"Remember what we discussed, James," he says quietly. "Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for those we care about is to let them follow the path they're meant for."
Caleb looks between us, suspicion clear on his face. "What did you discuss?"
"Some friendly advice," his father replies before I can speak. "Man to man."
The car arrives, saving me from having to respond. As we slide into the back seat, Caleb immediately turns to me.
"What did he say to you?" he demands as the car pulls away from the house. "And don't tell me 'nothing.' You've been off since before lunch."
Looking out the window at the perfect house receding into the distance, I weigh my options. If I tell Caleb what his father did, it will destroy what little relationship they have left. If I don't, I'm protecting a man who tried to buy me off as if I'm some inconvenient problem to be solved.
"James?" Caleb presses, concern replacing anger in his voice. "What happened?"
The truth hovers on my lips, but something holds me back. Maybe it's the vulnerable look in his eyes or the echo of his father's words, but some things are not meant to be.
"He just... made it very clear that I don't belong in your world," I finally say, which isn't exactly a lie. "That this thing between us has an expiration date."
