Not sure if I’m as smart as everyone tends to think, because I never considered his angle. I never considered his loss.
The regret in his tone, in his expression, in those averted eyes, is as potent as the one flooding through me. Even though he’s not looking at me, lost in his own emotions, I look away.
I’m so fucking sorry. About my wrong decision. About his company. About running away. About missing the time with my family. About disappointing him.
And most of all, I’m sorry I can’t say it. I can’t apologize. That word has never been in my vocabulary. The man across from me taught me that apology is a sign of weakness.
“You must be disappointed,” I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“You’re my son. You can never disappoint me. I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished here. And perhaps the situation back home triggered you in the right direction. One you would not have entertainedotherwise.”
“Silver lining,” I mutter, his pride wrapping around me like a prickly coat.
One of the reasons I lean into sarcasm, playfulness, and jokes is so that people don’t take me too seriously. I grew up being praised by everyone because I just learned things faster and more easily.
Being praised constantly doesn’t help you find friends, or even keep the peace with your siblings. So I dumb it down.
Even now, as a grown-ass man, my father’s praise gives me shivers.
This meeting is unraveling deeply hidden traumas I really fucking don’t want to address. I think childhood shit should stay right there, in my fucking childhood. Meeting my father after almost two years is stirring shit up, whether I like it or not.
I expected to rehash the situation that led to my exile. Instead, all sorts of other rehashing is happening, and the last thing I want is to show that weakness to my father.
He shrugs. “Perhaps a silver lining. Or just the way things were supposed to be. I don’t like how you got here, but I think you’re where you should be.”
I nod. “How is Mom?” I redirect before I suffocate in my own bullshit.
“Busy with her annual gala, drivingeveryone crazy, and claiming this is the last year she’s organizing it. The usual.” He chuckles. “But I’m sure Lottie told you that.”
I shouldn’t be surprised he knows I’ve been in touch with my sister, but I am. “She did,” I admit.
“Shall we order?”
I nod, and he raises his hand. We order steaks and more wine, and he gives me an update about my siblings and some other relatives.
Finished with his meal, he wipes his mouth. “So tell me about Merged.”
“I have a feeling you probably know enough.” I lean back.
Despite the heaviness of the circumstances, and my still unresolved guilt over the situation from two years ago, I’m enjoying his company.
“I hear your client is expanding to the West Coast.”
“It’s not a secret. The merger has been announced.” I’m just not sure why he brought it up, but I guess I might as well take advantage. “But since you mention it…”
“How can I help?”
I might still take my revenge on Roxy—her meddling is not appreciated—but I’m glad she pushed me here. It might be the first step in reconciliation with my family, and finally get us closer to that seat wepromised Atlas.
“I need a seat on the Vireon board.”
He nods. “Those assholes will drive you crazy, but I still have some pull there.”
I snort. “They drove you to resignation, I hear.”
“I’m at the age when I choose carefully who I spend my time with.”
“Will you help us?”
