“Because…？”
Fuck it. What more do I have to hide? “Interviews. Shareholder meetings. Managing a team. People. And I hate every goddamn movie this family has ever produced.”
He purses his lips thoughtfully. “They’re dreadfully repetitive, aren’t they?”
And now I’m gawking. “You don’t like them either?”
“Oh, no, I enjoy them, but we haven’t taken a risk since we opened Razzle Dazzle Village when you were a baby. And you’re getting old.”
Jesus.
Who is this man, and what has he done with my father?
“What would make you happy, Hayes?”
Begonia.
A private island with no one but Begonia.
Food.
Her damn dog.
My father sighs. “Son, life’s too short to spend it doing nothing but making other people happy. And god knows we parents get it wrong on occasion when it comes to guessing what that might be. If you’re under the impression we expect you to pay us back for anything we’ve ever given you in life, let me assure you, all we want is for you to do what makes you happy. Not what makes us happy. And it’s time I put my money where my mouth is, so consider that this offer is as much for me as it is for you. If you’re not happy, if you want out…now’s the time to take a leap.”
He looks like my father. He truly does. “Are you ill?”
“No, merely disgusted with myself for taking the easy path for far too long.”
I lift my brows and wait.
“Our first film featuring a queer couple is nearly finished.” He points to my desk again. “We’ve done the same thing for so long that we’ve convinced ourselves the audience wouldn’t follow us if we added additional paths, and it’s time we move away from the fear and embrace the possibilities of truly living up to what our reputation should be. Not a surface-level happy family, but a family of love and support and acceptance. The account sheets will be corrected when we announce it next week. Thomas was aware and had signed off on the various accounting tricks we needed to use for developing the project in complete secret. The rest of the board is ready to handle the media requests we would’ve had him do, as we’ve wanted to give you time to settle in before fully feeding you to the sharks. But Hayes, if this isn’t where your heart is—and I don’t mean the company’s growth and expansion into new markets that we should’ve ventured into before this, but I mean you, in this chair—no one will think any less of you. I’d hoped this job would be an opportunity, but I fear I’ve actually put you into an obligation instead.”
Begonia would be thrilled at this news.
I don’t want that to be my first thought, but I can’t stop it any more than I could stop her from smiling at the sun rising over the sea, or at a small private violin concert, or at her ridiculous dog pretending he could fish for crabs and take them home and cook them himself.
“Think it over,” my father says. “If you’re not happy, Hayes…let us help you find what would help you get there. And in the meantime, don’t let anyone else walk through your door with tabloids in hand.”
“You just walked through my door with that infernal tabloid in your hand.”
“I’m your father. It comes with privileges.” He smiles as he unfolds himself and rises. “But the biggest is worry. The biggest is always the worry.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“As can be.”
He looks at my desk one more time. I snag the offending paper and hold it out to him. “Toss this, would you?”
“Never thought she’d be the type to take that to the press,” he muses. “Her dog, though…”
I’d point out he barely met her at Sagewood House, but I know my father, and I know he pays attention to more than we think he does. “We’re not discussing this.”
He shrugs. “Happiness isn’t something you can plan, son.”
“We’re not discussing this.”
He nods once.
And when he walks out my door, I get the most infuriating sense that he’s disappointed in me.
Not because I’m failing at what I’m supposed to do for my family.
But because I’m letting fear stand in the way of the one thing that might finally make me truly happy.
35
Begonia
It turns out pawning a twenty thousand-dollar dress doesn’t make me happy, but it does give me enough breathing room in my bank account to afford gas, food, and dog supplies for Marshmallow and me to do what we should’ve done in the first place for my finding-myself post-divorce retreat—borrow Jerry’s parents’ Outer Banks condo.