I couldn’t bring myself to respond.
My parents. Together. In what was obviously a hotel room doing…
My stomach rebelled again.
“I realize this must come as a shock.” My father cleared his throat. At sixty-two, he was still trim and fit thanks to regular tennis games and a red-meat-free diet. “But your mother and I are, uh…
we’re…”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Edwin,” my mother said impatiently. “I hope you’re more eloquent when you’re pitching to clients?” She faced me again. “Your father and I have resumed a romantic relationship. This doesn’t necessarily mean we’re getting back together, since sexual—”
“Stop right there.” I held up my free hand. The word sexual leaving my mother’s lips was enough to make me want to bleach out my ears. “I don’t need the details.” I focused on the city behind her. I hadn’t paid attention earlier, but the skyline was unmistakable. “Are you in Shanghai?”
Her cheeks colored. “Yes. I flew here earlier this week for a last-minute trip.”
I didn’t have to ask whether the trip was for business or pleasure. I hadn’t seen my mother look so relaxed and at ease since…ever.
An idea suddenly struck me. “Is this why you’re stepping down?” My gaze roved between her and my father, who was studying the ceiling with apparent fascination.
I couldn’t imagine my mother giving up her career for a man, but stranger things had happened. A month ago, I couldn’t imagine meek, mousy Russell Burton blackmailing half the board either.
“No. Not necessarily.” My mother fell silent for a moment, like she was debating whether to continue. “I had a health scare last year,” she finally said, her voice quiet. “Doctors found what they thought was a tumor in my throat. It turned out to be an imaging error, but the scare put a lot of things into perspective.”
A vise squeezed my chest. “You never told me or Abigail that.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t, considering the doctor’s utter lack of competency.” My mother pursed her lips. “Obviously, I’ve switched medical teams since then, but I didn’t want to burden you or your sister before I had full confirmation. Your father happened to be in London the week after my misdiagnosis, and since I needed to talk about it but didn’t trust anyone outside the family…”
“We rekindled our relationship,” my father finished. “I still cared about your mother, even though we’ve been estranged. I didn’t want her to go through something like that alone.”
“It started platonically, but it was obvious there were quite a few unresolved feelings between us.”
My mother blew out a sigh. “Long story short, we separated when we were young and stubborn. My priorities have shifted since then, especially with my health scare. I want to spend more time outside the office and with family. Besides…” A rueful smile crossed her lips. “I’ve been at the helm for a long time. Companies that don’t change risk stagnation, and it’s time for a CEO with fresh perspectives.”
I ran a hand over my face, trying to make sense of everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours. Between my reconciliation with Isabella, the CEO news, and my mother’s double bombshell, my life had tilted so far off its axis I couldn’t think straight. However, it didn’t bother me as much as it would’ve a few months ago.
Companies that didn’t change risked stagnation, but the same could be said for people. My life had followed ruler-straight lines for over three decades, and a little chaos was good for the soul.
“Since it’s confession time, there’s one more thing I have to tell you.” I angled my screen so my parents could see Isabella, who greeted them with a weak smile and a wave. “I’m back with Isabella.
And this time, we’re staying together.”
My mother didn’t look surprised. “I figured as much,” she said dryly. “Clarissa called her parents yesterday and told them a Teo-Young wedding isn’t in the cards.”
“I’ve never met you nor do I know when and why you broke up,” my father told Isabella. “But I’m glad you’re back together.”
Her smile carved dimples in her cheeks. “Thank you.”
Since it was so late in Shanghai, I didn’t drag out the conversation. I promised not to tell Abigail about my parents until my mother spoke with her and hung up.
Relief loosened the fist around my heart. Perhaps it was her vacation, my victory, or a combination of both, but my mother’s reaction to our relationship was surprisingly muted. Other than a few sighs and disapproving frowns, she’d refrained from her usual barbs. She must’ve realized her objections would fall on deaf ears, and Leonora Young was smart enough not to waste her time fighting a losing battle.
“That went way better than expected,” Isabella said as we started a new round of Scrabble. “It’s amazing how much sex can loosen someone up.”
I nearly spat out my drink. “Are you trying to traumatize me?” I asked, appalled. “That’s my mother you’re talking about.”
“Sorry, I thought you were already traumatized from seeing your parents in bed—” She broke off with a squeal of laughter when I pulled her toward me and pinned her to the ground.
“Finish that sentence, and I’ll hide all your thrillers until you read every word of The Divine Comedy,” I threatened. “The Latin translated version.”
Her laughter vanished. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
“If you do that…” She hooked her legs around my waist, her eyes glinting with challenge. Heat raced straight to my groin. “I’ll withhold sex until you put the books back.”
“Darling, we both know you would cave before I did.”
Isabella arched one brow. “Wanna bet?”
We never resumed our board game that day.
I was normally a stickler for finishing what I started, but hours later, when we lay sweaty and satiated in my bed, I didn’t care that we’d left dirty plates and a half-finished game of Scrabble in the living room.
After all, we had the rest of our lives to finish it.
Epilogue
ISABELLA
Two years later
“Oh my God. It’s here.” I stared at the shelf. “It’s here.”
“Of course it is. That’s why we came.” Vivian nudged me toward the bookcase. “Go! This is your moment.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t quite process the sight in front of me.
The red spine. The name printed in white. The years of work and editing, all bound up in one paperback.
My debut novel Mistress in Waiting, sitting right there in the middle of my favorite bookstore’s thriller section.
A warm hand touched my back. “Congratulations,” Kai said. “You’re officially a published author.”
“I’m a published author,” I repeated. The words tasted ephemeral at first, but then they solidified, taking on the earthy flavor of reality. “That’s my book. Oh my God.” My heart rate accelerated. “I did it. I did it! ”