“Lily, please talk to me.” He tails Jonathan’s car and slows down when we reach the gate.
“Did you drink?” I murmur.
“No, I promise, Lil. I mean…”
My chest collapses. I don’t like I means.
“…I thought about it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’m on Antabuse,” he says. “The idea of vomiting stopped me more than once. Being around my father does make me want to drink. I can’t deny that.” He pauses “But I’m at a point where I can say no.” At least he’s being honest now.
I raise my head, rubbing my cheeks on my sleeve. “You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d disapprove.”
He nods. “But Lil, he’s my dad. He’s my fucking family.”
I can’t tell him what I think. That even if his father shows heart one minute, he’ll cut Lo into pieces the next. I’ve seen Lo walk away a shell of himself after his father screamed at his face for half an hour.
He parks the car and lifts my hand. “You’re my family too.” He kisses my knuckles. “Always.” He wipes a stray tear. “Please don’t be upset over this.”
“I just don’t want to see him hurt you,” I say softly.
“He won’t.”
Lo is not built of armor. He goes into every fight without the padding. He lets people hurt him because he believes he deserves that pain. It’s sick. It’s something I think I’m coping with right now.
I breathe heavily and just nod. “Okay.” I feel so ripped open. The extra dagger just fits in place with the others. I have to believe that Lo will be fine in the face of his father, that he can handle all the verbal onslaughts and the sudden disparaging comments. The why aren’t you living to your potential? Why are you such a fucking disappointment? I have to believe he’s stronger than me.
I think I can do that.
We enter the house, and I skid to a stop by the grand staircase, absorbing a home that I spent most of my childhood in. It’s quieter and darker than my parent’s place and carries a somber quality. Maybe because I have more memories here. And not all of them good.
“Can we do this in the morning?” I ask. Postponing the inevitable sounds nice. I could take another sleeping pill too, or Lo might even go down on me tonight. I shouldn’t be thinking about sex right now. I shake my head to try to reset it. I’m a spin-cycle revolving backwards.
Lo strokes my hair. “My father is impatient.”
Oh, right. He leads me to his father’s office where I’ve been many times before. Jonathan is already pouring himself scotch when we walk in. I settle on the brown leather sofa, and Lo scoots close beside me.
I remember kissing Lo on this couch. We’d have these hot and heavy make-out sessions, complete with over-the-clothes caressing, just to be caught by Jonathan or the staff. We weren’t really together, but we made excuses to kiss each other. We said that we were “reinforcing our relationship,” even though it was just pretend. I liked the stroking and the groping more than I should. And Lo did too, I suppose. He just never declared, outright, that he wanted to be with me.
Jonathan lingers by the liquor cart, examining his bottles. “Greg and I agreed not to speak during the briefing. If it felt formal, it’s only because we didn’t want the thing to last all fucking night.” He raises a crystal bottle of amber-colored liquid. “Would you like a glass or are you still being obnoxious?”
“No thanks,” Lo says, his voice firm.
Jonathan returns the bottle and slumps in the plush leather chair behind his desk. He shuffles the three files out along his desk as he takes a slow sip from his glass.
“From here on out, the goal for both of you is to reform your images. You will become upstanding individuals who can proudly wear your last fucking name.” He flips open a file and scans the page. “We’ll start with Lily. The easiest solution would be to deny all the claims, but no one would believe that sixty men were lying.”
I already knew I couldn’t deny the accusations, and I wouldn’t want to. Most are true. I wait for the word, the one that will seal my fate—rehab.
“So your parents and the lawyers have drawn up a list of things you must do. It’ll help restore your reputation, and in effect, that of our companies. Simple, easy, seamless, yada fucking yada.”
“What if she doesn’t do them?” Lo asks.
Jonathan shoots him a sharp look. “I was getting there. Hold your fucking tongue for a second.” His eyes fall to me. “Starting today, you no longer have access to your trust fund. When you complete all the tasks, your inheritance will be restored to you in full.”