Page 101 of A Real Good Lie

He and Sebastian were out for lunch at a bistro they both enjoyed, and Callahan buttered a slice of sourdough bread, munching on the crunchy crust while he waited for Sebastian’s answer.

“He’s broken things off with Ashley.”

“He told me,” Callahan shared.

“What? When did you talk to him?” Sebastian’s eyes widened.

“At the ribbon cutting. Before I went to look for you,” Callahan said. “I called him on it and he told me he was going to do it after finals. Right after he told me I had no place being with someone like Jace.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Where did he get that idea?”

“He said Jace wouldn’t ever amount to anything.” He dropped the bread onto his plate and wiped the crumbs of his hands, his chest tight at the memory. “That I deserved better.”

“Jace is more man than he’ll ever be.”

“I basically told him that.”

Callahan frowned, knowing it was true, that Jace was better than Rhys, probably better than Callahan himself, but the past couple weeks had been rough. He and Jace were still together, but Jace had been cooler…distant. Callahan had tried to chalk it up to stress over the impending gallery showing, but he wasn’t convinced.

“I told Rhys about Jace’s showing,” Sebastian said. “He was practically seething with jealousy. You know, he really hates to see you happy.”

“It’s a new thing.” Callahan huffed. “I haven’t been happy in a very long time.”

“You and my brother have very differing ideas of what happiness it.” Sebastian polished off the rest of his drink, then flagged the waitress for a refill. “Have you decided what to do about McMillian?”

“Not entirely. It’s more complicated than I’d like.”

Sebastian’s expression soured. “It’s harder to separate our lives from our names than you’d have thought, isn’t it?”

“It’s all just so tangled up. Like a spiderweb.”

“More like an amorous octopus,” Sebastian muttered.

“A what now?”

“Nothing.”

The waitress returned with Sebastian’s refill, which he promptly set to work finishing. Callahan sighed, swirling his straw around the watered down remainder of his Bloody Mary.

“I’ve passed as much of it off to Gerald as I can,” Callahan said. “The board will notice my lack of involvement eventually.”

“Be proactive.”

“I am.”

“More so.” Sebastian reached across the table and grabbed Callahan’s bread, taking a bite before dropping it back onto his plate. “Sorry, I just need something to start absorbing all this vodka.”

“You could just drink less,” he offered.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Sebastian grinned. “Anyway, you should talk to Edgar.”

“I try to not.” Callahan frowned. His father’s best friend and lifelong legal counsel, Edgar Baker, was someone he tried to engage as little as humanly possible. They’d never gotten along, and Edgar was the person who offered Callahan’s father the most pushback over his leniency with Callahan’s education and introductions. If not for Edgar, Callahan might have stood a chance.

“Get ahead of it,” Sebastian said. “Trust me on this. Build consensus. Talk to the board. I doubt they’d be unhappy with the idea of you stepping down anyway. It’s not a secret that you hate all of it.”

“I hate that I’m good at it,” he grumbled.

“I’m sure they hate that too. Such a waste of talent.”