The Paradise Problem (32)

“Medical humor.” God, this is a train wreck. “Wrong crowd. Hey, did you hear that West—Liam—is training for a triathlon?”

At least, he looks like he is, and his physique is the first thing that popped into my head. That shower really destroyed me.

“Is that right?” Ray asks, turning his focus to his son. “We gonna race?”

Hand flex. Heavy sigh near my ear. “We—” Another sigh, and I feel a pang of victory even though I’ve clearly said something wrong. How does it feel to have to play along, Dr. Weston! “Dad, we could just run. It doesn’t have to be a—”

“Meet me at sunrise tomorrow.” Ray says, eyes like laser beams. “We can race to the black beach and back.”

West drops his hand from my back. He’s given up. “We’ll see.”

Ray laughs. “Come on. Play with the big kids this week, Liam.”

“It’s vacation, Dad, I’m not setting an alarm.”

“Look at this fucking academic!” Ray crows. “What kind of man needs to set an alarm?”

“I’ve never needed an alarm,” Alex cuts in. “Up with the sun even after a late night at the office. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Liam. You probably just need more sleep than the average man.”

West doesn’t rise to the bait, but a muscle in his jaw clenches repeatedly. I, however, am not here for the recreational dragging.

“It’s unlikely,” I say, and every head turns my way. “Everyone needs seven to nine hours of sleep a night. You can try to convince yourself you don’t need more, but over time you’ll build up a sleep debt. It probably affects your mental and physical health more than you realize, Alex.”

Thank you, Psychology Today. On newsstands six times a year.

Ray laughs, delighted, but Alex’s gaze intensifies. “Yeah, no, I think I’m good with four hours.”

I smile up at West. “Being well rested is good for your mind and body, isn’t that right?” I wiggle my eyebrows and he stares down at me, fighting a smile.

Jake snorts into his empty glass but at least Charlie is with me. “I’m going to start going to bed earlier,” she says with sweet worship. “I agree we all spend too much time talking about how busy we are and not enough time taking care of ourselves!”

“Do less, but better,” I say, raising my drink to her.

Her jaw drops and she stares at me with worship. “Less, but better! Oh my God, that’s so inspirational!”

“Jesus Christ, this generation,” Ray mumbles, and puts a hand on West’s shoulder, turning him. Ray tilts his head, indicating the rest of the room. “Has the Forbes guy found you yet?”

West frowns, and it’s clear he would rather be at the top of an active volcano than right here. “Not yet, no.”

“Make some time for him this week,” Ray says. “His name’s Ellis. Good guy. I told him I’d give him a little time every day, but let’s be real: that’s top-tier access. Some of that time you all can take for me.”

“On it,” Alex chirps.

But Ray keeps his eyes steadily on West. “Tell him about the company. The growth I created after Pops died. You know.”

West lifts his drink to his lips. He hasn’t agreed to do anything, but I don’t think Ray’s noticed.

“I could have breakfast with him tomorrow,” Alex says, wedging his shoulder between Ray’s and West’s and frowning in a way that looks like his brand of excitement. He consults the calendar on his phone like we aren’t on a private island with all the time in the world. “Around nine?”

“Am I your secretary?” Ray laughs a get-a-load-of-this-guy laugh and hooks a thumb at Alex. “Just take care of it.”

“On it,” Alex says again, furiously typing something into his phone.

Jake pulls his attention away from this and pretends to see someone across the room, wandering off. Charlie and Janet start bickering about some details of the wedding. The family dynamic is so loud, it’s thunderous.

With Alex vying for Ray’s attention, West takes the excuse to pull me aside. “Let’s get out of here.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” I say. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

He nods. “It’s perfect. You met Charlie. You met Alex. My family saw us here. Let’s go.”

We walk to the bar, grabbing cocktails to take back to our bungalow, and then duck out a side exit.

The stone path is smooth under my bare feet as we walk in silence. A look at the water shows the tide coming in, the waves frothy in the moonlight. Phthalo Blue, Cadmium Yellow Light, and a touch of Titanium White, I think, still pondering over the right mix of colors. A little Burnt Umber to capture the way the water moves in the moonlight.

“Charlie is a delight,” I say, and do a quick hopscotch once we hit the sand. “I feel like I’ve had a personality shower.”

“She’s great. A little sheltered…” A pause, and he amends, “A lot sheltered, in fact, but she has a good heart. Charlie is a pure soul living in a very plush bubble.”

West’s tone is flat and detached, incongruous with the gentle words. I glance up at him. His jaw is tight, eyes narrow and focused on the steps ahead of him. “On the other end of the spectrum,” I say, hoping I’m reading him right, “your dad sure is something.”