Page 57 of Before You (Reckless Love #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Marley

I NEEDED TO escape the looming pressure of my future after attending a slew of meetings with my father after my flight landed, so I’m hiding at my family’s penthouse in the heart of the city, trying to pretend I’m still in North Carolina with JJ.

I’m also avoiding packing to go back to school, but that’s a later problem.

I can’t blame my dad for asking me to come, especially after I bailed on our original plan for me to go into the office with him all week.

It gave me a good chance to practice my Mandarin since one of the investors originated from Singapore, but I’m nowhere close to being fluent.

The investor did seem delighted I could converse a little before I became lost, and we switched to English.

I haven’t practiced Mandarin hardly at all since transferring to Beaumont, but yesterday was a stark reminder I should make it more of a priority.

I love learning new languages and taking trips to practice with native speakers, picking up on the things I can’t learn from a tutor.

It’s not that I don’t want to be at home with my family, but I’m not ready to act like I’m excited to do this for the rest of my life.

Six months ago, it would have been easier, but transferring to Beaumont has changed me more than I ever could’ve imagined it would.

I’ll go back soon to spend some time with them before Bria and my’s flight is scheduled to depart later this evening, but I need a little more time to myself.

I’m camped out on the couch, working on a song I started to put together in my head a few days ago while I wait for takeout from my favorite hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant to be delivered.

I looked to the sky

Wishing for a sign

You’re everything I wanted

But everything I thought I’d never have

A shooting star I was lucky to see

Burning bright in the night

The elevator dings, pulling my attention to the entryway, and I’m dreading being found already. I thought no one would think to look here, but I’m a creature of habit, seeking comfort in the familiar.

The door slides open, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see my Uncle Dean standing there. Last I heard, his kids were sick with the flu, and they had to skip out on Thanksgiving this year.

“How did you know I was here?” I blurt out, my songbook abandoned as I stand to meet him halfway.

“I thought I’d at least get a hello, but I guess not.” He smiles, pulling me into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Lee.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t protest the nickname. Anyone else I would, but not my uncle. He’s the only person in the world I would ever let call me Lee.

“How are you here? Kaden said your kids were sick, so I didn’t think I’d get to see you before I leave later.”

“They’re on the mend, but Tori said she had it handled so I could come check on you,” Uncle Dean explains, his blue eyes twinkling as he ruffles my hair.

“But I’m fine? Why do you think you need to check on me?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Your dad called me last night, come cook with me in this beautiful kitchen going to waste,” he says, changing directions to head toward the state of the art kitchen we barely use.

I’d rather he explain why my dad called him, but I recognize I’m not going to get my way in this, and it’s easier to follow Uncle Dean into the kitchen.

“If you want it to be edible, I suggest you have me do all the washing and drying while you cook,” I say, spinning the ring on my thumb, trying to avoid picking at my cuticles since I tore them to pieces during the meetings yesterday.

“Everyone should be able to cook at least one meal,” he says, and I snort.

“You’ve met my mother, right?”

“Except her. It’s a good thing she married your father, or I’m afraid she would have starved by now,” Uncle Dean says, and he’s not wrong. “Lucky for you, Hayes keeps this kitchen pretty well stocked, and we have all the ingredients we’ll need.”

It’s nice he’s trying to give Dad credit, but we both know there’s a housekeeper who comes by twice a week. The first time she stops by, she drops off groceries and tidies up. The second trip, she donates whatever hasn’t been used to a local shelter for survivors of domestic violence.

“What are we making?”

“An Alfredo sauce from scratch, but I’ll take pity on you by letting you use dry pasta instead of also making it from scratch,” he says before tilting his head toward a cabinet. “Grab a medium size pot and a saucepan please.”

I follow directions, not surprised he knows where everything is here.

Once I have the pot filled halfway with water I salted over a lit burner, Uncle Dean begins clapping.

“Congratulations, you know more than your mother, and I’ll bet you’ll even take it one step further by proving you can’t burn water,” he teases.

“What’s next?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“I’ve got it from here, I want to be able to eat it when it’s done,” Uncle Dean says, and I pull myself up to sit on the counter.

“Probably a good choice. I tried making my boyfriend eggs last month, and I was mortified when he told me they were crunchy.”

My uncle stares at me, his dark eyebrows raised. “He complained to you they were crunchy after eating them?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Yep. JJ actually ate them still with a smile and planned on never telling me, until he mentioned on a date he was learning to cook so we don’t starve.

I tried to use the eggs as an example of how I can cook, and he told me it meant a lot to him I even tried to make something for him. ”

“Sounds like he’s a keeper, and a thousand times better than your old one,” he says, nodding his approval. “When you find someone like him, don’t let him go.”

“You know, if everyone just told me what they really thought of Trent when I was dating him, maybe I would have dumped him sooner,” I say, giving Uncle Dean a pointed look.

“Lee, you know we were all just trying to be supportive. You have to make your own decisions, even if it means making mistakes along the way. It’s part of being an adult,” he says, offering me a smile to go with the wisdom.

I feel like there’s a double entendre there, but Uncle Dean will get to his point when he wants to.

“It seems like you’re enjoying Beaumont more than Columbia,” he says, and I watch as he turns the saucepan to a low simmer, dropping some butter in the pan.

“I love it. Columbia wasn’t the right fit for me,” I say, and the distinction between the two has never been more clear after the last twenty-four hours.

Everything there was about who your parents were, and how much money was in your bank account.

Beaumont still has plenty of people with wealthy connections, but it’s a different vibe entirely.

“I’m proud of you for transferring. I know it probably wasn’t an easy decision, but you seem happier.”

It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the right one.

After my freshman year, I tried sticking it out a second year at Columbia, knowing it was important to make connections there, but no matter how hard I tried to make myself fit the mold and meet people’s expectations, I couldn’t.

“I am happier there. I’ve made some really great friends there, and I’m learning a lot about myself,” I say, shaking my head and spinning my ring again.

I chew my bottom lip as Uncle Dean turns away to push the garlic he’s been mincing into the pan before adding the box of noodles to the boiling water. “Uncle Dean?”

“Yeah?” he asks, looking over his broad shoulder at me.

“Why did my dad call you?”

He offers me a smile riddled with sympathy more than anything. “You’ll have to ask him yourself if you want to know. I’m not the go-between for anyone anymore. I stopped doing that when I left the corporate world twenty years ago.”

“Did you really hate it so much you just quit?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me, and I know I’m more interested in his answer than I should be.

Uncle Dean leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did, even though I was good at it—actually, I was really fucking good at it. It’s the family business, and it might sound silly now, but all I ever wanted was to feel like a Benson.

I thought working for the company would fix it, but I hated it.

I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and your dad knew it,” Uncle Dean explains, and I try to picture him in the meetings I sat in yesterday, but I can’t.

“He told me life is too fucking short to spend it doing something you hate. I applied to the fire academy, and realized he was right. I loved running into burning buildings for a living, and I met two of the most important people in my life while doing it. I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. ”

“Sounds like something Dad would say,” I say, and my uncle tilts his head.

“Are you excited to work at the company?” he asks, and I swallow the dread rising in me.

“Yeah, I am.”

He laughs, and I push a smile on my face, hoping it helps my answer be more convincing. “Then why do you look like you swallowed a lemon?”

“I do not!” I glare at him, regretting I even opened the door to this conversation. Curiosity kills the cat, and in this instance, I’m the cat.

“You do, and you can continue to deny it, or you can tell me what you really think. Up to you,” he says, turning to add heavy cream and shredded Parmesan to the pan, using a whisk to mix them together.

“It’s different for me than it was for you.

I don’t get to quit,” I say, not wanting to talk about this.

I have two years left in school and another two of shadowing Dad before I’m eligible to take over.

Only four years of freedom. It used to be a bigger number but I’ve forgotten as time passes, the number shrinks.

It’s easier to pretend when I’m not here.

“You and Uncle Maddox were never expected to take over the company, but I’ve grown up knowing my future, and it’s not an option for me to quit.

I sat in those meetings yesterday, pretending I didn’t want to crawl and hide under the table like a little kid, and it feels selfish to not want it.

I know how long my dad has wanted to retire, and I would rather spend the next thirty years pretending to be someone I’m not than disappoint him,” I admit, wondering what great words of advice my uncle will have for me now.

“How dare I complain about the billion-dollar company I’m going to inherit?

” I mumble, mocking myself because it’s a ridiculous conversation to even be having.

“Lee, you always have a choice. You don’t have to run the company if you don’t want to,” he says, his voice softer now. I don’t need to be coddled for this, and I shouldn’t be hiding here. “What would you do if you could do anything in the world?”

It’s not a fair question because I can’t answer it.

It’s easier to lose something you never had than to lose something you’ve spent time dreaming of.

I shake my head, tears of anger threatening to spill over.

“No. I want to. I want my dad to be less stressed, and this is the only way. I want . . .” my voice falters and I shove my feelings deep inside.

This time when I speak, my voice is unwavering. “I want to run the company.”

Uncle Dean stares at me with his piercing blue eyes proving his lineage as a Benson. “All I am saying is you don’t have to.”

Except I do.

The one thing I feel like’s a choice is being with JJ.