“I’m not trying to manage you.” He’s standing by the kitchen island, his hands in his pockets. “I’m trying to be a peacekeeper. To find the middle ground where everyone wins. If I go to this brunch, it satisfies my father, it secures the Davis relationship, and we have all of Sunday here.” We had left Friday and played on staying for a long weekend.
“A peacekeeper?” I let out a jagged laugh. In this house, I don’t feel small. I feel like the daughter of Jake Matthews, a man whobuilds things to last. “You’re not a peacekeeper, Skyler; you’re a puppet. You’re a well-tailored, highly educated puppet, and your mother has her hands so far up your back she’s practically moving your jaw for you.”
Skyler’s face goes ashen. He looks at my parents, clearly horrified. “Harley, please. That’s enough.”
“No, it isn’t enough. Lily told me weeks ago that you were a pushover for them, and Steven told me the same thing tonight. He called you a robot. A strategic retreater. And God, he was right.”
Skyler’s eyes narrow. “Steven?”
“Yes. I’m taking advice from the only person in your family who hasn’t lost his soul to a country club membership! At least Steven is honest.”
“It’s not the same. Steven doesn’t have the pressure I do. I’m protecting our future; I’m building a life for us. Do you think a career like mine just happens? One day we’ll be free of my parents’ expectations.”
“One day will never come, Sky,” I whisper. “Look at your father. He’s sixty-two, and he’s still playing the game. That’s your future. And you’re inviting me to bend, too. Because Steven is literally with them right now so we could have this time. He’s taking the heat for us, and you’re just going to walk out?”
“Steven is Steven,” Skyler says, his voice sharpening with a flicker of genuine irritation. “He doesn’t have a career at the firm to protect. He doesn’t understand the nuances of these negotiations.”
“He’s your brother, Skyler. He’s trying to help you.”
“He’s an amateur trying to play at a professional’s table,” Skyler snaps.
As if on cue, his phone buzzes with a relentless, heavy vibration against the countertop. He swipes the screen. I watchthe color drain from his face, replaced by that panicked, dutiful mask I’ve come to loathe.
“What?” I demand. “What is so urgent that you can’t even talk this out with me without your parents taking all your focus?”
Without a word, he turns the phone toward me.
Father: Steven is being intentionally difficult and obstructing the Davis conversation. He has no grasp of the east wing projections and is embarrassing the firm. I need a professional at this table, Skyler. Get back here tonight. Don’t make me ask again.
“See?” Skyler says, his voice dropping into a desperate whisper. “He’s blowing it. If Steven stays in that room alone with Davis, he’ll tank the Henderson deal just to spite Father. I have to go back, Harley. It’s not a choice anymore. If I don’t fix this, there won’t be a firm for me to inherit.”
It’s so clear to me. His father is purposely drawing Skyler away.
“There’s always a choice, Sky,” I say, my voice sounding hollow. “You’re choosing a spreadsheet over a person. You’re choosing your father’s approval over my father’s house.”
“I’m choosing our future!” He shoves the phone back into his pocket, the movement frantic.
“Steven’s not incompetent, Skyler,” I say, my voice dropping to a level that I hope cuts through his panic. “He’s just not moldable—and that’s your parents’ real issue with him. It has nothing to do with business and everything to do with the fact that they can’t pull his strings.”
I step closer, forcing him to look at me instead of the screen. “They don’t need a ‘professional.’ They need their favorite tool back in the box. And you’re handing yourself right over to them.”
“You don’t understand,” he says, already reaching for his keys. “I’m the only one who can handle him. Steven is a liability, and Father knows it. I’m the only one who can keep the peace.”
Dad clears his throat. “Normally, I’d continue giving you two space, but perhaps we cool down, yeah?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He turns to me. “I don’t want to fight. You never accepted your present yesterday.”
Oh, my God. If he brings out that bag and gift card, I’m going to scream.
Sure enough, he reaches into his blazer pocket and pulls out a small, elegant shopping bag. He sets it on the counter, right next to the apple pie.
“Because I know it’s been hard, and the house is a lot. It’s a five-hundred-dollar gift card to Coach. I thought you could get that purse you liked. I care about your happiness, Harley. Why else would I try so hard to keep the peace?”
“Five hundred dollars… Is that what I’m worth to you? Is that the price for me to shut up and play along while your mother plans my wedding and your father insults my career? Or is this just a bribe for the Davis brunch?”
“It’s a gift, Harley! Not a bribe!”
“It’s payment,” I counter, my voice rising again. “It’s how Thompson men handle emotional problems. You don’t have the courage to stand up to your mother, so you try to buy my silence with leather goods. You don’t have the guts to tell Amanda to stop texting you, so you buy me a designer apology.”
