“I thought a clip like that would make you happy, Mom,” he said, thinking nothing of the sort. “Womankind one, mankind zero.”
“But it makesyoulook foolish.”
“It was a PR gimmick.”
“It’s a ridiculous gimmick.” Celeste sighed impatiently. “And you could’ve warned me.”
“I had no idea it would make the news back home.” At least that was true.
Other than what the clip had achieved for the campaign, Seb hadn’t thought to check the impact it had in Canada until Jimmy’s text had come through at dawn. He’d then searched online, and sure enough, there was the usual trolling and a few derogatory remarks on social media, but there was also a lot of positivity and jollity. And in the big wide world, regardless of social media, life went on.
Yesterday’s event went well. Mikey was happy. Strive were happy. And Seb felt one step closer to a contract renewal.
“Who is she, anyway?” Mom asked.
“My girlfriend.” The word nestled in the air, oddly familiar and comfortable. Seb paused a beat, waiting for his mother to ask for a name, a detail, but of course, there was nothing.
“Are you bringing her to your father’s memorial?”
Hell, no.“I’m still not sure I can even make it.”
“Really, Sebastian. You have to be there.” There was a sharp expel of breath. “My assistant will book you a flight. He’ll send you the details.” Another sharp intake of breath and his mother moved on to the next item on her agenda. “There’s an opening in your uncle’s office for a business analyst. You should apply. With your business qualifications, you’d make a good fit.”
“I’ve already got a job, Mom.”And working for Uncle David would mean moving back to Ottawa.Seb leaned against the window frame. “I’m back in training September twenty-third.”
“Strive Sportswear are renewing your contract?”
Seb gritted his teeth. “I haven’t had confirmation yet.”But after yesterday, surely they would?
Seb sank down on the bed, the stirrings of doubt creeping under his skin. It would take more than one successful event and aridiculous gimmickto get back into Strive’s good books, and it would be naive to think otherwise.
“Isn’t it time you thought to do something else, Sebastian? You’re not getting any younger.”Oof.Punch in the gut.His mom had been waiting over ten years to boast about a gold-medalist son. An Olympic bronze—and all the other medals he’d won at swim meets around the world—had clearly failed to impress. “Really, Sebastian. You’ve tried hard but it’s time to think about your long-term future now. David will email you and you can discuss the position further at the memorial when you—”
“Mom.” Seb hung his head. Being around his parents had always threatened his mental health, but now that his father was dead and that day when he— “Listen, I don’t want to attend the memorial.”
“But Sebastian, I need you to be there. People will wonder why you didn’t come, and I need your help clearing away your father’s things. I’m not … that’s to say … Clearing your father’s study after he … It’s not a task I’m relishing doing by myself. You have to help me.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by another, like Celeste had changed tack before the words could spill out. “When your father died—”
No way.“Mom, I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Really, Sebastian, I—”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
Sitting on her bed with her computer on her lap, Helen heard Sebastian thump across his room, down the stairs and out through the kitchen. She got up and watched him stalk around in the garden, his hands on his hips, his chest heaving.Wow, that’s one seriously pissed off- looking man.
What had happened?
She’d heard the openingde-dum-de-dumof theJawstheme a few times, then realized it was a ringtone when she heard his muffled voice. Had someone called with bad news? An ex-girlfriend?
Helen wanted to go to him but instinct warned her not to approach. Doubtful anyone, least of all her, would be able to infiltrate that red cloud.
She turned her attention back to the CSS code she’d been drafting for Licks and Laces, but the cluck of hens had her raising her head again. Sebastian had placed the chunky weights Strive had loaned him for the summer at his feet and began working his biceps.
He was doing that jaw-grinding thing again, clenching his teeth the way he did when striving for calm and composure. She’d been the cause of such grinding several times but never on this scale, and if it had been something she’d done, he’d have knocked on her door by now, telling her all about it—not pumping weights like his life depended on it.
Thick cords and muscles were bulging in his arms and shoulders, his chest moving up and down with each breath. Losing all interest in her work, Helen pressed her face against the glass door and watched the show.
