One evening when I was sixteen, I was trying to plan a romantic evening for the girl I had the hots for, and I’d asked JP, the family butler, to set up a fireworks show. He’d tried to protest about the expenditure, but I was a teenager and I didn’t listen. When the bill came in, I found out my fireworks display had cost thirty thousand dollars.
I smile at the memory of how pissed my father had been. “I thought dad was going to have a coronary.”
She laughs fondly. “He was not happy with you,” she agrees.
“That’s an understatement,” I note dryly. “He told me I was burning money, yelled at me for an hour, and then grounded me for a month.”
“You would have been in worse trouble had you not stood up for JP. When you told your dad that JP was not to blame, and you’d accept your punishment, but he wasn’t to take it out on JP, I think your dad almost cried.”
“You’ve never told me this.”
She smiles. “You were a teenager who’d just spent thousands of dollars on fireworks,” she replies. “Your father was proud of you that day. He thought your heart was in the right place.”
My father died seven years ago, and I still miss him. Hearing the muted sadness in my mother’s voice, I know she does too. They met when she was twenty-four and he was twenty five. She was a poster child for the seventies, and he was the son of a billionaire. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. My parents are the reason I believe in love.
“Why haven’t I met Bailey?”
Because I’m in a pretty unconventional relationship, and I’m not sure what my mother will think about it. Heck, I’m not even sure what I think of it. Originally, it was all about physical attraction and nothing else. But the more time the three of us spend together, the more I’m coming to realize that what we have together transcends sex, and that terrifies me.
I settle for a half-answer. “I’m not dating her,” I reply. “Besides, you hated the last woman I introduced you to.”
“Megan,” my mother says in distaste, referring to a very short-lived relationship, “was not good for you. However, I didn’t interfere, did I?”
“No, you didn’t,” I say fondly. My parents have always left me to live my own life, and have only offered advice if I’ve asked for it. “A point in your favor.”
“I agree,” she says. “So why aren’t you dating her?”
Bloodhound.
“Invasive discussions about my personal life are not the reason we are having lunch,” I tell her. “I wanted to talk to you about Cyrus.”
She frowns. “Why?” she demands. “I was quite looking forward to my meal. Why ruin it?”
The waitress finally ambles over to us and hands us menus. It’s a pretty laid back place, evidently, and things like serving us food doesn’t seem to be too high on her priority list. I glance at the offerings briefly and order a lentil salad. My mother orders something with kale in it, which makes me shudder. Not even Sebastian can convince me to eat kale. “It’s good for you,” my mother says, looking at the expression of mild revulsion on my face.
“If you say so,” I tell her and wait for the waitress to walk away before continuing my conversation. After the Piper incident, I’m a lot more careful about paying attention to my surroundings. “So, Cyrus.”
“Fine,” she sighs. “Tell me about Cyrus.”
I quickly fill her in on the Kansas City project, and Cyrus’ abysmal lack of progress over it. “I might have to fire Cyrus if this deal doesn’t come through.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That seems extreme, coming from you.”
“It isn’t just this deal,” I explain. “Cyrus is rude and high-handed to the employees. He treats my admin like dirt. He’s just not pleasant to be around. He’s exhausting my reservoir of good-will.
“You want to know if I’ll back you up, if it comes to a board vote.”
I roll my eyes. “I expect you’ll back me up,” I tell her. “What are you going to do, vote against your favorite child? I just thought you’d appreciate a heads-up. Besides,” I look dubiously at the salad that the waitress has just deposited in front of me, “having lunch with you is always an interesting experience.”