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“You’re right. Iwouldhave,” I admit.
The fog I was in from being with Lexi fades away.
“Now, it’s time to polish your crown, brother. Let’s fucking rule this.” Weston stands and gives me a handshake. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. “You know it’sreal, right?”
“Oh, I’m aware. No one on the planet can deny how you feel about one another. It’s obvious. It’sbeenobvious.”
Weston leaves me to my thoughts.
After three consecutive afternoon meetings, where my stomach growls through each one, my father calls me into his office.
I sit before him at the desk that will be mine. The wedding ring on my finger confirms it.
The Calloway logo is eloquently carved into a dark wood that’s so precious that it can’t be exported out of the United States. This is the same desk my grandfather and my father have sat behind, and soon, I will too.
My dad glances down at my hands, and I didn’t notice I was twisting the ring. It feels foreign on my finger, but I enjoy it. I enjoy knowing Lexi picked this out for me and that I won’t take it off anytime soon.
“Congratulations,” he says. “I like her. You two seem like a perfect match.”
“Thank you. I believe we are.”
He stares at me like he’s waiting for a confession.
“Are you happy?” he finally asks.
“Very. I didn’t imagine it could be like this.” A smile threatens to take over.
“And the promise you made to yourself?”
I know what he’s asking—if I married forlove. He’s allowing me the opportunity to reveal my lies. I don’t have any.
Memories of our adventures play through my mind like a motion picture. There is no one else I could’ve ever imagined marrying. Lexi is it—the endgame.
“Fulfilled,” I confirm.
My father stands and gives me a tight hug. “Love is always on time,” he tells me.
“It is,” I say, releasing him. “I understand the marriage clause now. Grandfather knew that if we were married, we’d force ourselves to have work-life balance.”
My father grins and nods. “Yes. Something only a man in love would say.”
I clear my throat. “When you married Mom, did you love her?”
It’s not a conversation the two of us have ever had, but it’s something I’ve always wondered. After becoming an adult and knowing how difficult it’s been to navigate my personal life, I wonder if my father was in the same predicament as me—needing to fulfill a contract.
“I did at one time,” he says. “Your mother was my everything until she wasn’t. Son, it wasn’t anything either of us did. Sometimes, you wake up and realize you’re living a lie and going through the motions of life. We both agreed to see other people, but to stay married. It didn’t work out, so we divorced.”
I contemplate that for a few seconds. “You had an open marriage? I thought that was a rumor.”
“All rumors begin from a spark of truth. Don’t forget that. Now, I want to discuss something else, but we might need five minutes.”
He glances at his watch, and as if he summoned Weston, he enters.
My brother takes the chair next to me. We look at each other, trying to read each other’s mind. Neither of us knows why we’re here. It’s been a while since we were randomly called to my father’s office. All meetings, evenpersonalones regarding family, must be on his calendar.
I don’t want to turn into him.