Ryke stays quiet, but his eyes flicker to me more than once. We’re far away from each other, separated by the length of the long wooden table.
My muscles bind the longer I sit here without answers. God, I want this. For so many reasons. My foot jostles, and I rub my lips. Waiting.
Then Daniel turns to me. “When we first met you, we weren’t sure if you’d want to be involved with this company. Through your initiative, you’ve proven to us that you do.” He pauses. “You’re a lot like your father, but you’re not him.”
I clench my teeth, and I can feel my jaw sharpening. Right. I break eye contact, staring out at the floor-length window. The one that overlooks Philadelphia on a muggy afternoon. In the silence, I say, “What were you expecting exactly?”
“Let’s see,” Daniel says, “the son of Jonathan Hale: what he’d call a little shit. What Jonathan is. Someone who’d throw a bottle of wine at a wall, toss papers around, yell in an employee’s face if the job didn’t go as planned. Degrade a person so he’d feel better.”
I frown and meet his face again.
“Don’t look so shocked. We know the terrible parts of your father. We’ve been around him long enough. And we’re all more than impressed to see that you didn’t inherit his habits.”
I did though. I inherited all of those things.
I stare dazedly at the table. My therapist told me something once.
He said, “Sometimes the person we think we’ll become is the person we already are, and the person we truly become is the person we least expect.”
I’d been terrified of becoming my father for years. It’s why I never wanted to take Hale Co. It’s why I pulled against everything he threw at me.
And all that time, I was already him.
But I’m not my father anymore. I’ve become a better version of the person I once was. Someone I can stand to be around, someone I can live with.
Yeah. It took long enough. “Have you decided then?” I ask Daniel.
“We’ve voted, but ultimately, we realized that the decision should be left with you two. We want someone who truly wants to run this company. If that’s both of you, then we’ll be damn happy to have the Hale brothers as the face of Hale Co.”
Hale brothers. Ryke’s jaw hardens. He considers himself a Meadows, not a Hale.
“You want us to be CEOs together?” I ask.
“Only if that’s what you want,” he emphasizes.
I lock eyes with Ryke, and I lean forward, cupping my hands on the table. I’d do this with him, if he’s up to it. But I still doubt he’d enjoy this life. I doubt he even wants it.
“Just tell me one thing,” Ryke says to me, the board overhearing. But I block out their stern expressions. It’s only me and my brother. “Will you be happy?”
My smile stretches my face. I can’t contain it. “I already am.” I’ve proven to myself that I could reach this point without a crutch. I’m sober. I’m healthy. I’m so goddamn alive.
Ryke smiles back, like he’s proud of me. “It’s yours, little brother. I believe in you.”
For months, those last four words are all I’ve ever wanted to hear. From Ryke, they mean everything to me.
{ 70 }
LILY CALLOWAY
While I’m seated at the vanity in a hotel suite, Rose clips the front strands of my hair back into a diamond barrette. My three sisters and my mom flutter around me like bluebirds in Cinderella. I never thought I’d be a princess of any fairytale. I’m more like the pumpkin that lies sadly on the wet pavement.
“What if he says no?” I suddenly spout my billionth fear of the morning.
“I’ll rip off his penis,” Rose says flatly as I stand up from the vanity bench. That is not something I’d enjoy. I love Loren Hale’s cock, very much so.
Our mom rolls her eyes and then rests a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t listen to your sister.”
I never thought I’d be on speaking terms with my mom for my wedding day, but we are. We really are.
“He’ll say yes,” Poppy chimes in as she straightens out my white tulle skirt and silk fitted top. It’s not a traditional wedding dress. I tried on almost all styles: mermaid, ball-gown, A-line, empire. It wasn’t until I found the skirt and shortened top combo that I felt like myself.
Daisy nudges my side. “And not because he knows his manhood is on the line.”
“That’ll only be two percent of the reason,” Rose butts in. She splays the rest of my straight brown hair on my shoulders and glances at the clock on the hotel nightstand. “We should head to the roof.”