Chapter Thirty
“So, you wanna explain yourself?” Brent asked Tom, who was sitting across the kitchen table from him.
He knew he’d have to confront him eventually, and sooner was better than later, but the whole thing was still making his stomach cramp up. Having Riley beside him was the only thing that made all of this seem possible.
“What is there to explain?” Tom asked. “I liked Rose, and I always wanted her. We were together for months—months, right under your nose, and you never once noticed.”
Rose’s story had been different to that—she’d said Tom hadn’t approached her until the night before the wedding, but he’d been so convincing that she’d gone with him, because she was terrified of getting married to someone she wasn’t in love with.
Brent wasn’t sure who to believe, but he wasn’t inclined to believe Tom as a matter of principle.
It was a mess, but he was determined to fix it.
“I knew marrying her would help me out of a tight spot… or I thought it would, anyway. I figured… why not solve two problems at once?”
“Wow,” Riley said. “You’re an asshole.”
Tom blinked at him.
Brent agreed, but he wasn’t sure name-calling was the way forward here. He knew Riley was trying to help, and he would never have stopped Riley from speaking his mind, but still.
“Dude, professionalism.”
“My entire life has been worked around never having to show professionalism to people I don’t like,” Riley pointed out. “But I will behave. For you.”
Brent smiled at that, taking Riley’s hand under the table.
“He’s right. I am an asshole. I’m not ashamed of it, I’m just mad it didn’t work.”
“Butwhy? Rose said you were in debt… why wouldn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped. You’re supposed to be my friend.”
Of all the things that had hurt Brent about this, Tom’s betrayal felt like the worst. They’d been working together for years. They might not have been best friends or anything, but they’d always had a good working relationship, and between them, they’d built something good.
“How was I supposed to tell Saint Brent that I screwed up?” Tom raised an eyebrow. “I made some bad investments. How the hell would that look when I’m supposed to be helping other people make good ones?”
“No one would have had to know,” Brent said.
“Because you could have put your friends and clients at risk like that?” Tom asked. “I’m not from here, and you are. I know where your loyalties lie.”
Brent swallowed. “We could have figured something out. You don’t have to compound a mistake by making more of them.”
“Yeah, well… here we are. You wanna lecture me, or you wanna make a deal?”
“I’d like to slap you,” Riley said. “And you can ask anyone how dedicated to nonviolence I usually am.”
Brent squeezed Riley’s hand, but he was secretly glad for the support.
“Does he need to be here?” Tom asked. “He doesn’t have a stake in this.”
“Actually, he does,” Brent said. “And I don’t really care whether or not you want him here. You’re the one in the shit. You don’t get to decide who comes to the table.”
“I want out of the business,” Tom said. “I put in startup capital in the beginning, and I want you to buy me out.”
Brent sighed. He’d known this was coming.
“How much?” Riley asked.
Tom didn’t even look at him.
