Page 119 of Boyfriend of the Hour

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a request.

“She’s in school,” Nathan said. “And she’s making progress. You’ll ruin all of that.”

“It’s inappropriate,” Radford said. “The press is going to find out about her, and that’s the last thing we need after what Carrick put us through last year.”

“Isla has nothing to do with Carrick’s indiscretions with senators’ wives,” Nathan said. “She’s a child.”

“She’s seventeen.”

“With the social skills of a seven-year-old. You know this.” Nathan couldn’t help the way his voice heightened. He tried never to lose his temper because when he did, it seemed to scare people. But Isla was a pressure point his parents like to find.

“And that damned school is saying she’ll need to stay there for another five years or more,” his father bit back. “When we signed those forms, no one thought it would take this long.”

Nathan stared at his plate, fighting the urge to throw it to the ground just to hear the porcelain shatter. “You promised. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, and youpromisedyou would take care of her.”

“Sometimes promises have to change.” His mother’s voice was trying to be kind. He could hear that. But it wasn’t working. “We just don’t have the bandwidth to continue overseeing her like this. Of course, if you came home…perhaps you could take over. She could visit the farm. Really be part of the family, since that’s what you want so badly.”

Silence descended over the table like the thick bechamel sauce oozing from Radford’s toast, cloyingly rich and far too heavy.

Nathan stared down at his salmon, weighing a bite. But suddenly, even the texture of the salmon looked wrong. His stomach roiled, and it had nothing to do with the hangover.

He set down his fork and pushed his plate away.

“That’s impossible,” he said. “The court said it’s impossible. Because of you.”

“The court ruled that you have no legal rights with Isla,” his mother said. “But since your father and I were able to procure guardianship, we do. Including deciding what’s best for Isla’s immediate future.” She looked at Radford. “I think we can oversee them both in our own home, don’t you, Raddy?”

Radford gave a curt nod.

“Then it’s settled,” Lillian said with a bright smile. “You’ll sell your shares in that bitty little practice, split your time between Georgetown and Huntwell, and come home where you belong. Isla can stay at Ferndale, and she’ll relax knowing you’re close. Everybody gets what they want.”

She looked around the table. Nathan wondered if she was expecting applause.

Unfortunately, by the time she was finished speaking, Nathan’s hands were shaking in his lap, fingers pinching his thighs so tightly his knuckles were almost white.

Rage. That’s what this feeling was. Pure, blinding rage.

“Nathaniel?” Lillian seemed very far away. “Doesn’t that work out just fine?”

Nathan closed his eyes, counted to ten, then opened them. He had to do it four more times before he could unclench his teeth.

“Nate,” his father barked. “For God’s sake,speak.”

“Since I was a child, I have done everything you have ever asked of me.” Somehow, Nathan managed to keep his voice even. Kept it from shaking.

Radford snorted. “That’s a fairy tale I haven’t heard before.”

Nathan’s eyes were as sharp as knives. “It’s the truth. I’m sorry I haven’t been the son you wanted. I genuinely am. None of us turned out the way you planned. You needed smart, charismatic leaders to take over once you retired. Instead, you got Spencer, Carrick, and me.”

“Dr. Doolittle, Gordon Gecko, and Rain Man,” his father muttered. “Lucky fucking me.”

“Radford!”

“Well, it’s true,” he snapped at her, and Lillian obediently quieted.

Nathan didn’t bother arguing with him. He’d heard enough versions of that insult over the years that it no longer stung.

“Yes, Dad. You wanted an acceptable heir to your self-made throne,” he continued. “And while I admit I have never become exactly what you wished, I have, in fact, done nearlyeverything you requested over the last ten years. You wanted me to attend board meetings while I was in the middle of my residency? I spent hours reading quarterly reports instead of sleeping after thirty-six-hour shifts. You demanded I see a therapist thatyouchose? Dr. Mitchell is officially my longest adult relationship. You insisted I still live with a roommate? I’ve spent my thirties acting like Bert and fucking Ernie despite being one of the highest-paid surgeons in the city.”