Thane
It only took Boone another month to finish the house, but it felt like a lifetime. He’s under the assumption that we’re buddies now, and every night after he’d finish working, he’d seek me out, even when I was hiding, to talk about stupid shit like sports or town gossip.
Even now that the house is done, he shows up unannounced and drags me off to get beers and play poker. The only reason I agree to those nights is because they’re all idiots and I can count cards, so I win every single time.
There’s a small amount of satisfaction in taking their money, even if I do drop it off at the library every time.
“Thane, there’s a package for you.”
Lottie’s voice is still my favorite drug.
I stand and exit my office, and find her at the front door, struggling to hold up a bunch of hangers. “Oh, great. My shirts.”
“Your shirts?” She laughs. “How many did you order?”
“Fourteen.” I take the hangers from her and tip the delivery guy as she inspects my purchases.
“They’re all…pink.”
Closing the door and locking it, I then lay the shirts over the banister. “Not just pink. A very specific shade of pink. My tailor and I had to go to three different venues to find the right shade.”
She’s still laughing, and I take a snapshot in my mind. I vow to make her this happy every chance I get.
“What are you going to do with fourteen pink shirts? And why pink?”
“I’m going to wear them, Charlotte. Every day. And the why is my favorite part.” I crowd her against the entry way closet. “The why is that they’re the exact shade of pink that your skin turns when you come.”
I plant a loud, messy kiss on her lips, then back away because I have work to finish. There’s one more person on my fuck around and find out list—Roger. And while I want to destroy him for helping Lottie’s father, he is a father himself, and it’s not sitting right with me. By all accounts, at least according to my private investigator, he’s a doting father.
It’s the only reason I haven’t ruined him yet—his little girl doesn’t deserve it.
Seated behind my desk, I dial his number.
“T—Thane?” Good, he has every right to be nervous, but I’m still going to fuck with him.
“Beautiful little girl you have.”
Silence. Perfect. I have his attention.
“You broke our NDA.”
“Not technically?—”
“And you went straight to the one person I hate almost as much as my father.”
“Thane—”
“You will not work with Wilder Minds or the Fitzgerald Group ever again.” That’s going to hurt his bottom line, but he can find other clients.
“But—”
“And unless you want me to make what you did public knowledge, you’ll do me a favor.”
He still doesn’t answer.
“What’s your choice, Roger?”
“What’s the favor?”
“Elijah Sinclair and Sebastian Walker are trying to get permits through in Gramercy Square. Use your little spy to find out who’s blocking them, and let that slip to Walker or Sinclair, but keep me out of it.”
“T—that’s it?”
“That’s it. You have until the end of the week to complete this task.”
I hang up before he can say anything else. If I can’t ruin the guy, I might as well use him to help out a couple of people that Charlotte loves.
With that behind me, I head out to the kitchen to make Kara a snack. It’s become our daily routine since she started school, and she’s happier here than I ever saw her in New York.
By the time I have the cheese cut and crackers spread onto a plate, she’s walking through the front door. She drops her backpack, and it hits the wood floors like an anvil. I don’t know what they make these kids carry around these days, but her backpack is consistently forty pounds.
Ridiculous.
Make an appointment with a chiropractor to ensure she isn’t suffering spinal injuries from this.
“Hey, Brad.” No smile today. My newfound dad instincts tell me to scan her for injury, and when I find none, I go to my next step—ask questions.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But it sounds like, na-THING. So, it must be something.
“Do you want to talk about nothing?”
“No.” She stuffs a piece of cheese into her mouth. Then does the most disgusting thing—she talks with her mouth full. “Trevor isn’t going with me to the Sadie Hawkins dance because Sarah asked him first and he felt bad turning her down.” A cracker joins the cheese in her mouth. “Even though he told JJ who told Michael who told Emma who told me that he wanted to go with me.”
What the hell is she talking about? What dance? And who are all these people?
“Dances are stupid. The music sucks, people get sweaty, and you can never, ever trust the punch.”
“Brad,” she whines. “You only know all that from the movie we watched last weekend.”
I scratch the back of my head. Do I?
“Okay, why don’t you just ask someone else?”
She drops her head dramatically onto the island. Why is this a big deal?
“How was school?” Charlotte walks into the kitchen wearing her yoga clothes that I have a love/hate relationship with. “Kara? Everything okay?”
“No.” Kara drags the word out to have six syllables as Charlotte sits beside her. I lean against the stove and cross my arms, still trying to figure out if I’m supposed to track down this Trevor kid or just listen to her.
“What happened?” Lottie runs a hand down Kara’s hair, and she finally lifts her head.
That’s when I see the tears, and my decision is made—find this Trevor punk and ruin him.
“Sarah asked Trevor before I got to school this morning.”
My stomach cramps as I watch my sister. I hate seeing her cry.
“That bitch,” Charlotte spits. Apparently, she’s “in the know” again, and I’m not. It’s happening more often, and it’s taking all my effort not to be offended by that.
“Right?” Kara wipes at her tears as if they offend her too. “She doesn’t even like Trevor. She did this because she knew I was going to.”
Add Sarah to my shit list.
“I told you that girl was rotten. Classic mean girl. This is jealousy, that’s all this is. She doesn’t like that your family is…well…well-known.” Lottie crosses her arms over her chest and frowns. “You know what we have to do?”
Kara’s hand pauses halfway to her mouth with a cracker and a piece of cheese. “What?”
“You have to bring someone even better than Trevor.”
“Ah, sweetheart.” This sounds disastrous to me.
“I can’t.” New tears form in Kara’s eyes, and I snap my lips shut. This is Lottie’s arena. “I was so upset that I didn’t ask anyone else and now everyone has dates but me.”
“First of all, you’re too young to date,” I announce.
“Ugh, Brad. It’s a date to a school dance, not a date-date.”
What the hell’s the difference?
“There’s no rule that says you have to bring someone from your school.”
Kara frowns, and I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t know where my lovely wife is going with this, but I already don’t like it.
“Well, it just so happens that Thane invited the Westbrooks over that week to work on a project with Weston.”
Kara pales, and her freaking hands shake around her phone. What the hell?
“Have you been talking to Wes?” I ask.
She nods. “On Snapchat.”
“When did you swap information with him?” And why am I sweating profusely?
Her eye roll now comes with a sound effect that is similar to someone hocking up a loogie.
“When we had lunch with him and his family in New York last time.”
“When? I was talking with him the entire time.”
“Thane.” Lottie squeezes my forearm. “It’s okay. They’ve just been talking. She has a soft spot for him.”
Damn it. So do I, but that doesn’t mean I want my sister getting cozy with him.
“He’ll hate the dance.”
“It’s a silent dance party. Everyone gets headphones.” Kara is no longer crying, but I don’t appreciate this expression either. “I helped plan it. It’s part of our inclusivity program.”
Wait, what?
Kara grins at Lottie.
“Go ahead, tell him,” Lottie encourages.
“Well, since we’ve been going to therapy together, I’ve learned a lot about you. And then I did some research and found that it’s more common than I realized, and a lot of kids have sensitivities that range from annoyances to hinderances. Is that a word?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Well, I went to the principal with this idea, and she loved it. That’s what the bake sale was for. We had to raise the money for headphones. There won’t be any disco balls or strobe lights either. But there will be quiet corners, and small group chat rooms. Oh, and Boone is bringing in these canopies to cover the gym lights to make them softer, but he donated those, and they’ll stay in the school for students who need them in classrooms.”
“Why?” My throat is closing up. “Why would you do this?”
She shrugs, but I know this is something big, huge, and my heart is trying to burst through my chest.
“Come on Brad, we can learn from Dad’s mistakes and do better. You shouldn’t have been able to get to thirty-two years old without the necessary tools. If I can help bring awareness to people who struggle like you did, then it kind of feels like Dad failed.”
Dad failed.
She’s doing this because of me, for me, out of love.
“Kara.” My voice is much too loud, but I’m too shaky to control it. She slowly lifts her gaze to mine. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done on my behalf. I—I’m so proud of you for thinking it up on your own, and for finding a way to stick it to Jonah.”
She laughs, and it sounds watery. Gross.
“So, you think it’s okay to ask Wes?”
She’s calling him Wes? I’m going to be sick.
“You can,” I say. Charlotte pinches my side—it’s become her silent way of saying tone. “You can,” I try again. “But don’t be upset if he says no. I’m not sure I could have handled a school dance at your age, even with all the accommodations in place.”
Charlotte winks at Kara, and my stomach ramps up its struggle with other organs. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll say no, Kara.”
My litter sister blushes. Fucking blushes.
“What do you know that I don’t?” My wife completely ignores me.
“Go ahead, go ask him. If Mrs. Westbrook wants to chat with me about it, tell her to call me.”
Kara hugs Lottie, fist bumps me, then rushes from the room.
“Kara,” I call. No one in this house listens to me. “Charlotte Wilder. What the hell was that?”
“Oh, relax. They’re young. It’s not like they’re getting married. They’re going to a school dance that she worked hard on because she loves you, and she might have a tiny crush on Wes.”
“Does he know this?” My hands fist and stretch three times while I work on not breathing like a dragon.
“Winnie and I suspect he has his own little crush going on, but seriously, Thane. She’s thirteen years old, talking about a school dance that we will drive her to and from. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“What’s the worst? The worst? They could get married. She could marry into the biggest, loudest, most chaotic family in the world. They have their own fucking mantra, Charlotte. It’s ‘welcome to the chaos.’ ‘Welcome to the chaos.’ We would never be free from them. They’re like the mafia—once you’re in, you’re in. I was worried about letting Weston into my company, but at least there, I have rules in place. We get mixed up with that family, and we’re done. Done! Do you hear me?”
She presses her fingertips to her lips, but even that doesn’t contain her laughter.
“This is not a laughing matter, Charlotte.”
“Are you listening to yourself? They’re kids. It’s one school dance. It’s not like we’ll wake up ten years from now to find them married.”
“Oh my God.” I storm over to the stairs. “Kara, elopement is out of the question for you. Don’t ever, ever do it.”
She pokes her head over the upstairs railing to gawk at me.
“What the hell, Brad? I can’t even drive yet. Slow your roll.”
“I mean it, Kara. That’s the rule. Don’t do it.”
She rolls her eyes and stalks away. Maybe she shouldn’t be allowed to have her phone in her bedroom.
“Breathe, Thane.” Lottie presses her face into my back as she wraps her arms around me. “Everything is fine. She’ll have lots of boyfriends over the years?—”
“Boyfriend?” I’m having a heart attack. It’s stopped beating. Or maybe it’s beating too much. “I thought they were friends.”
Her head bobs against my shoulder blades with silent laughter. “They are friends. That’s it. You’re turning this entire thing into something it’s not, I promise.”
I spin and take her face in my hands. “Say it again.”
“I promise. Kara and Weston are friends. Everything will be okay.”
Everything will be okay because she’s in our lives.
“Fine.” My heart rate starts to settle.
“I love you, Thane Wilder.”
Her words are the balm for my fragmented mind. “I love you more, Mrs. Wilder. Forever and always.”
She lifts onto her tiptoes, graces me with a kiss, and my entire body relaxes on contact.
My narrator may never be silent.
I may never like crowds.
We may never choose the easy path.
But we’ll always be together, and together we will never fail.