“Ready for salad?” she asks Elena, who nods in answer.
When Nelda disappears back into the kitchen, Dad’s patience runs out. “Not to be rude, but what is going on here?”
Elena chuckles. “No worries at all. I understand my niece, Claire, made a visit to you recently?”
“You could say that,” Dad agrees warily. “Why?”
“Let’s just say she’s a bit of a brat, that one,” Elena grumbles. “Hasn’t met a boundary she didn’t want to cross. And that includes coming to see you. She shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have spoken for me or the estate.”
Dad’s eyes light up. “You mean Blue Lake Assets is still in consideration to manage the Cartwright portfolio?”
Elena looks to me with a warm smile. “Something like that.”
Dad jumps right into selling Blue Lake again—how it started, how it’s grown, how his leadership has led to a broad base of successful partnerships on several fronts. He might as well be tooting a horn that screams his own name, completely ignoring the fact that I’m the one who sought out Elena, got to know her and her portfolio needs, and has been dealing with her this entire time.
Not once during his impromptu presentation does he mention my name. Not through the salad course, and not as Nelda sets down plates with roast chicken and root vegetables.
“Interesting,” Elena says dryly when Dad finishes his one-man show. Thankfully, she’s not impressed at all. She might as well be yawning in boredom.
That’s why this is going to work between us. I don’t want a formal, impersonal relationship with my work. It’s my passion, and I want to do my best, confident that it will be recognized and appreciated.
That’ll never happen with Dad, but it will with Elena.
“Though Claire might’ve overstepped, I’ve decided to go another direction with the management of my portfolio. No hard feelings?” Elena asks, then takes a bite of her carrots.
Dad’s smile melts and his eyes jump to mine as he realizes what Elena’s saying. There’s anger there. Despite his whole rigamarole show, he thinks I’m the one who somehow blew this for Blue Lake Assets. He has no idea what I’m capable of.
“Dad, I’ve learned so much from you—how to be a man and how to be a businessman. And I will always be grateful for those lessons. But recently, I’ve been feeling like there’s a world out there for me that I haven’t explored. A world beyond Blue Lake.”
Mom’s jaw drops open as she gasps, “Carter?” In contrast, Dad’s jaw goes tight as he clenches his teeth.
“Effective immediately, I will begin my own firm—Carter Harrington Asset Management.”
“You are not serious,” Dad grunts as he rolls his eyes dismissively. “Carter, you’re good, and one day, you’ll be great. But not yet. You’re not ready.”
I want to rant and rage, tell him how wrong he is and that I need his support, not condemnation. But that won’t help matters. If anything, he’ll see it as affirming his thoughts about me. So I take a deep breath and meet his eyes boldly.
“I feel I am. But I can never know for sure as long as I’m in the Blue Lake shadow, always worried about playing second fiddle to my father . . . or my brother,” I tell him honestly. “I am doing this, Dad. I’m leaving Blue Lake and striking out on my own. I plan to—”
Luna places her hand on my thigh beneath the table. Her support means everything as I tackle this. I lay my hand over hers, weaving my fingers through hers.
“I’m taking over the Cartwright portfolio for Elena. Luna and I are married for real and staying that way because we’re in love.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
I drop all the bombs at once, each feeling so important that I can’t hold one back in favor of the other. I want to shout it from every rooftop so that everyone hears.
So that Mom and Dad hear.
Dad laughs disbelievingly. But Mom skips right over the Cartwright part and squeals, “Carter! Luna! You’re married? For real?”
Elena leans back in her chair, watching the scene before her like she orchestrated it herself. Hell, maybe she did somehow. “Now that’s a proper show-off. Let the games begin,” she murmurs.
My parents are the loudest reaction, but my focus is on Luna. I want to protect her from any shrapnel my bombs might have. She’s my priority, and this is the type of thing that could make her panic again. I won’t let that happen.
I hold up a hand. “Let me explain.”
Dad pushes back from the table sharply, standing to try and lean toward me. With his hands planted on either side of his almost-empty plate, he roars, “Explain? There’s nothing to explain. You’ve lost your mind.”
He’s completely forgotten that Elena is here to witness this breakdown. But I’m doing my best to remember that and behave accordingly—as the strong and professional person she can entrust with her most valuable assets. It’s hard when my ego wants me to stand and roar back at my father.
Gritting my teeth, I manage to say, “I’m managing Elena’s portfolio. And I love my wife, Luna.”
I take her hand from my lap, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand to reiterate, and then give Elena a grateful nod. She was right to keep her nose out of things and see how they played out. Because this is what matters. This is the life I’m creating for myself, the one I’m choosing.
“Charles, let’s hear him out,” Mom suggests as she tugs at his sleeve, trying to get him to sit back down. “I want to hear about this marriage.”
That’s Mom.
Both of my parents care, though they show it in such different ways. Mom’s always worried about our mental and emotional well-being first, while Dad wants to make sure we’re putting food on the table and upholding our reputations.
“The details don’t matter, that’s between Elena and me. We have worked out how Mr. Oleana will transition responsibility over to me so he can retire. It’s done,” I declare, shutting the door on the business side of things to focus on what Mom wants to hear about. “The important thing is that Luna and I are together, happy and in love.”
“He is so much like you,” Mom says out of nowhere, looking at Dad fondly. “Remember when you were full of piss and vinegar like that, so ready to tackle the world that you wouldn’t let anything hold you back?” She laughs lightly, and Dad frowns at her. But he can’t stay mad at Mom. He’s never been able to.
Dad chuckles unintentionally. “I didn’t run off and get married for a business deal,” he counters as he jerks his head toward me, talking as if I’m not sitting right here to listen. But his tone is much lighter as Mom works her magic on him.
“No, we got married because we had a deal of a different sort and you didn’t want to tell your dad. Surprise!” She waggles her eyebrows at Dad, and I realize what she’s insinuating.
“I thought Cameron was born early?”
Elena pats my hand, explaining kindly. “That’s just what we used to say when the baby was born seven or eight months into the marriage, dear. And polite folks went along with it and told you how nice it was that the baby was so big for being early.”