Chapter 8
“Only three of us survived. We are evacuating back to the mainland. Everything on our island is contaminated. Maintain a safe zone of at least four miles from the shoreline.” —Isaiah Grove, leader of Island Four
Five Years Ago
Pax
As a kid, I didn’t know it was a luxury to spend one weekend watching Formula One races in Monaco and the next skiing in Switzerland.
Getting dropped off by one of our drivers on airport tarmacs to board my family’s plane was routine. Just another way we got from here to there.
Seeing the Gulfstream through Hannah’s eyes, though, is special. I held out my hand to help her out of the back of the SUV, and since she stepped out, she’s just been looking at the plane, her gaze awestruck.
“That’s the plane.” She pinches her brows together as she studies it in the amber light of early evening. “Your parents’ airplane.”
I squeeze her hand. “Think of it like a really fast car, love. Are you afraid of flying?”
She shakes her head, looking slightly dazed. “No, it’s just ...”
“A lot. I get it.”
Her gaze slides to me and she smiles, her brown eyes warmer and more mesmerizing than the sunset we’ll soon be watching from the air.
I had no idea, when I was drawn to a contagious, melodic laugh from a group of women at a bar I was out at with friends ten months ago, that the woman that laugh belonged to would change my life.
When I turned to see who it belonged to, our eyes locked, and I suddenly knew what people meant when they said when you meet the one, you’ll know.
Though I’d been hoping to get the new woman from HR at my Boston accounting firm to go home with me that night—after a bunch of us had drinks and she saw me crush some Bon Jovi songs for karaoke night—I changed my plans immediately.
Not just for the night. For my life. I pleaded with the universe for the stunning brunette I was approaching to be single and straight. That was all I needed. The rest I could handle.
And damn, did she make me work. She told me she could smell the playboy on me a mile away and placed me firmly in the friend zone. It took almost three months of groveling just to get a date with her.
In the bar that night, something made me introduce myself to her as Pax Stephens—my mother’s maiden name—instead of using my real last name. I needed to know if the third-grade teacher who made me forget any other woman had ever existed could fall for just me.
Not the killer Super Bowl seats, yacht trips, and luxury homes all over the world. The doors opened by my billionaire parents have made many women work to land my ring on their finger.
Hannah got to know a man who couldn’t always afford to go out on Friday and Saturday nights (a fib I hoped she’d forgive me for later).
A man she thought was so buried in college loans that he walked most places because he didn’t have a car.
(My cars stayed snugly parked in the garage beneath my downtown building while I racked up enough steps to take me to and from the moon. Probably.)
It was just a week ago that I admitted the truth to Hannah.
Even then, I told her the money is all my mom and dad’s, and that they want me to make my own way in life.
In reality, I’ll inherit half of everything someday.
I was also privileged to be gifted stocks and trust funds by not just my parents, but also my grandparents, which have set me up for life even without my parents’ money.
I plan to tell her I’m wealthier than I’ve admitted soon. After I propose with a modest three-quarter carat engagement ring. I know Hannah loves me for me, but I need to plan a life with her that’s centered on us, not my money.
I chose to become an accountant and live in the same type of apartment other people in my pay grade would have. Some of my friends know my parents are wealthy, but they also know I’m a guy who loves bar pizza, watching football, and playing in a basketball league.
“Okay.” Hannah takes a deep breath, her exhale forming a cloud in the chilly October air. “Aldous and Kate. Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher.”
I kiss her forehead. “They’ll tell you to call them Aldous and Kate, babe. It’s going to be fine, I promise.”
We walk toward the plane stairs. Taking the plane to meet my parents for the first time at a ritzy downtown New York City steak house wasn’t my original plan.
They were going to come here this weekend and Hannah and I were cooking at my place.
Our place, really. But Dad had a big work thing come up and my mom wouldn’t accept rescheduling for another weekend as an option.
Mom cried when I told her I’d met someone. When I told her Hannah’s a teacher with a master’s degree in special education who runs and volunteers at a homeless shelter, she cried even harder.
My parents were adamant that I not end up with a fortune hunter or celebrity chaser.
Hannah said last weekend that she won’t even consider an engagement without a prenuptial agreement in place that stipulates neither of us gets anything from the other if things don’t work out, no matter how long the marriage lasts.
There won’t be a prenup, but I’m not approaching that conversation until later.
Everything that’s mine is already hers in my heart, anyway.
I miss her hearty laugh when we’re apart, even for the workday.
I love that she tries so hard to cook for me, but just isn’t great at it.
Hell, I even took up running to spend more time with her, and I hate running.
I met the one ten months ago in a sports bar decked out in fake garland and twinkling holiday lights. And when I knew, damn, did I know.
As a mom of two sons, my mother always told me and my brother Deacon to choose our life partners wisely, because they would become her daughters.
Deac is gay, and his husband Alex is one of our mom’s favorite people. But Deac and Alex don’t want kids, and I can see the sparkle of hope in my mom’s eyes as she gets to know her future daughter-in-law over dinner.
“We had something like that at my grade school,” Mom says to Hannah across the dimly lit table. “I don’t know if I got more excited over the school store or the book fair.”
Hannah smiles, putting her hand over her glass when I move to pour more wine into it. I set the bottle back down. She doesn’t drink much alcohol, but she also said a little extra wine tonight might help ease her nerves.
Not that she needs it. I can tell my parents love her.
“Book fairs were the best,” Hannah gushes.
“My school is fortunate to have a grant from a private company that allows us to use vouchers for our book fairs, so students who don’t have money from home still get to purchase books.
Whether your parents send money or not, everyone gets the same vouchers. ”
Mom gives Dad a meaningful look and says, “I love that.”
Dad pulls her a little closer, his arm behind her, and grins. “I’ll ask Trinity to look into it.”
I don’t want Hannah to be confused, so I say, “Mom’s going to steal the idea and do it, too.”
Hannah’s eyes widen and she turns to my mom. “Really?”
“Absolutely. We’re big supporters of literacy programs. I love the idea of the kids getting to choose their own books.”
Dad meets the gaze of a server clearing away our dishes and thanks him, picking up plates to pass to him.
“We can cut out the middleman and run it ourselves, though,” he says, the wheels inside his head in motion as always. “If we buy the books at cost and hire our own people, we can make the money go a lot further.”
“Oh!” Mom’s face lights up. “What about a mobile book fair? We get a huge bus and have it remodeled and it goes from school to school. The kids could each get vouchers so they could learn about money management and budgeting.”
Hannah turns to me, dropping her jaw as she squeezes my hand under the table. I can tell she’s about to burst with happiness.
I grin at her. “I went to book fairs for the cool posters and erasers.”
She rolls her eyes at me with affection and turns back to my mom, saying, “That’s an incredible idea. If there’s anything I can do to help, just say so.”
“Let’s get together for lunch with Aldous’s assistant, Trinity, and get the ball rolling,” Mom says.
Dad beams at Mom. “She’s more than just a beautiful face. I’ve never made big decisions of any kind without getting Kate’s opinion.”
My parents have always made it known that they’re deeply in love, and they’re partners in every way. They both came from wealthy families, but service and generosity were emphasized. My dad’s father was the Illinois governor for eight years, and his uncle served a term as a US senator.
I’ve always wanted what my parents have. That’s why I didn’t plan to settle down in a committed relationship until I was in my thirties, so I could just have fun for a while. But then I met Hannah, and my definition of fun has completely changed in the past ten months.
“So what’s new with work, Dad?” I ask.
“Oh, just the usual.”
If not for Hannah, I know he’d list off what kinds of companies he’s been acquiring and investing in, and I appreciate that he’s not getting too specific. I don’t want Hannah to feel overwhelmed by the realities of having almost unlimited money.
“I’m actually part of something I’m really excited about,” Dad says, looking over at the dessert cart our server is approaching with. “Innovative scientific research. I got to visit the labs a few days ago, and I was stunned by what’s being accomplished.”
“Oh, I love science,” Hannah says. “What kind of research is it?”
“I wish I could talk about it, but I’m bound by some legal stuff.” Dad eyes the desserts. “Is that lemon berry cheesecake?”
“Yes, sir.” The server passes him a plate, and Dad passes it to Mom, grinning. “It’s her favorite.”
I study the many desserts on the two-tiered cart, then glance at Hannah. “The chocolate brownie-looking thing, right?”
Her cheeks flush a pretty pale-pink shade and she smiles. “That’s right.”
“Two of those, please,” I tell the server.
“Make that three,” Dad says.
We’re all focused on our desserts for a minute, and then Dad says, “I hope I can share more details about this project with you guys soon. It’s groundbreaking stuff that we hope will help people around the world.”
“Yeah, I’d love to hear more,” I say.
It’s not really true. My intelligence is above average, but my dad is a literal genius who comprehends math and science in ways most people can’t even imagine.
My mom always helped me with homework growing up because Dad’s mind works so fast and in such intricate ways that he had trouble explaining things in ways I understood.
But I always show interest in what my parents are doing, just like they pretend accounting is interesting when I talk about it.
“Hannah, if there’s any way you could join us in Aspen for Thanksgiving, we’d be so thrilled,” Mom says. “Invite any family or friends you like. We always have a big get-together and there’s something for everyone. Some people ski every day, and some people don’t ski at all.”
“Oh.”
Hannah looks at me, and my breath stills in my throat. My mom might have overstepped. My girlfriend has been hit with a lot of new information about me lately, and a holiday at our ten-bedroom Aspen lodge isn’t exactly a soft introduction to my extended family.
“If Pax is okay with it,” Hannah says slowly.
I scoff. “Are you kidding? Nothing would make me happier.”
She smiles at my mom across the table. “Then I’d love to, thank you for the invitation.”
We finish the meal, and when I’m helping Hannah into her coat near the coatroom, my mom catches my eye and mouths, “I love her.” I mouth back, “Me too.”
I’m looking forward to the chaotic but merry Thatcher annual Thanksgiving in Aspen more than I ever have before. If it goes well and we’ve met each other’s families, I plan to propose to Hannah by the end of the year.