Chapter -21-
“… and that’s the day I realized this little dream of mine had become a reality. I—no, we were on our way to changing lives. Turning other people’s dreams into realities.”
Applause roars from below. Whistles and the occasional “Yesssss,” champagne flutes raised high. Denz sees it all through a hazy fog.
He tripped on stage and forgot his line when introducing his dad, but he remembers his dad’s swagger. The way he drew the crowd in. His energy and jokes. The little personal touches that started an echo of aww s.
The part he recalls with such brilliant clarity is the Kenneth he saw afterward—pale, wide-eyed, wringing his hands as if worried he’d fucked up.
That day, Denz saw himself in his dad.
That day, he truly believed he could be Kenneth Carter.
Now, as his dad recites a speech he spent weeks composing, he feels farther and farther away from thirteen-year-old Denz.
Up on the glass balcony, his eyes flit over the guests below. The aunties in their gowns, the uncles in their tuxes. Eric holds Julie from behind. Jamie anxiously chews his nails behind the bar. A sea of excited faces for miles.
On stage, next to him, Nic smirks. Mikah’s wearing a kids’ version of Denz’s suit, holding Leena’s hand. To the left of his dad, Kami avoids eye contact with him.
He wishes she was closer. Wishes he would’ve found her sooner, asked if she’s okay.
Sparkling smile on display, Kenneth says, “And now, I’m happy to introduce you to the new CEO of 24 Carter Gold—”
Holy shit, it’s happening . His dad decided to keep the company in the family. Denz has a second chance to be the Carter he’s supposed to be.
“—and that person is—”
Anticipation vibrates off the crowd.
Denz expected nerves, like his dad after that New Year’s speech. But that’s not what this is. It’s not calmness either. It’s an emptiness, stretched from his skull into his toes. Like he’s finally realizing this one thing won’t do what he hoped it would.
It won’t make him feel worthy.
The part of him that wanted to win is tiny, microscopic by the time the crowd erupts. By the time his dad shouts, “Congratulations, Kamila Carter!”
It happens quickly. Nic hoists Mikah up on her shoulders.
Balloons and confetti rain down on them.
Camera flashes catch on the tears rolling down Kami’s cheeks as Leena hugs her.
Denz wants nothing more than to remind her that she’s earned this moment, but the guests are rowdy and Kenneth’s shouting, “Speech, speech!”
It’s easy for Denz to step back. Disappear from the stage.
He hears Kami say shakily, “I’m not as great as my dad at speeches, but here goes…” as he descends the spiral staircase into the night.
The first person Denz runs into after the buzz from the announcement wears off isn’t one of the aunties. Or a reporter from The Final Word or By Invitation Only looking for a quote about losing. It’s not Jamie, lemon drop martini in hand.
Or even Braylon with a change of heart.
It’s a slightly taller man with rich ochre skin and thick, dark brown hair. He’s got the kind of symmetrical face Denz is instantly jealous of, an endearingly lopsided smile. The frames of his rectangular glasses match his navy suit.
“Hey, Denz!”
His voice is deep, a stark contrast to his very boyish cheeks.
Inside Vista de Atlas’s banquet area, guests come and go. Suki’s ecstatic version of “Happy” is softened here. Denz could almost imagine the crimes against dancing Tevin’s committing, if he wasn’t so confused by the stranger in front of him.
Denz glares at him. “Uh… who are you?”
“Oops. Forgot we haven’t formally met.” The other man extends a hand. “I’m Suraj.”
“No fucking way.”
Suraj beams at him.
“Wow. Shit,” Denz sputters, his brain ten steps behind his mouth. “You’re here? Like, the Suraj?”
Suraj’s laugh is nice, like hot cider in December. “In the flesh. That’s a weird saying. Like, how else would I be here? As a ghost? Ooh, a poltergeist!”
Denz shakes his hand. “Actually, I was starting to believe Kami had an imaginary boyfr—”
He catches himself, eyes chasing every face that passes them. Suraj has been a secret for a reason. Denz might’ve been an asshole to her yesterday, but he’s not going to fuck up whatever his sister has going on by inviting all of Atlanta into her relationship.
He lowers his voice: “You’re real .”
“I am.” Suraj releases Denz’s hand. “Been dying to meet you.”
“Really?”
“Hell yes.” Suraj pushes up his glasses. “Kami never shuts up about you.”
Denz eyes him skeptically. “She talks about me?”
“All the time. In a good way!”
Denz smiles. Not in the charming, cover-of- People way he grew up memorizing. Or the one he uses for clients. The rehearsed one he gives his family when all he wants is to run away. It’s genuine.
“She talks a lot about Nic too,” Suraj says earnestly. “But you have no idea how highly she thinks of you.”
No, Denz doesn’t. He assumes Kami hasn’t mentioned the fights. The absolute human trash fire Denz has been to everyone, including her, in the past twenty-four hours.
“Suraj? Babe? I’ve been looking for—”
At the soft, fond voice, Denz pivots ninety degrees, shocked.
The afterglow of being named CEO remains on Kami’s face. But the edges are starting to fade. Exhaustion sits heavy in her eyes. She’s carrying a sleeping Mikah. His tiny arms and legs cling to her like a koala’s.
She stops short when she notices Denz.
“Hey, love,” Suraj says. He’s got that lovesick sweetness in his eyes, something Denz never saw in Matthew. “I was just—”
“Excuse me,” Denz interrupts, aghast. “Babe? Love?”
Suraj’s cheeks flush. Kami doesn’t look opposed to yanking off one of her heels and stabbing Denz in the eye.
He’d deserve it.
Kami passes Mikah into Suraj’s arms. Denz is thrown by how easy the transaction is, as if they’ve done it before. As if Mikah, who shies away from strangers, is suddenly comfortable snuffling his nose into Suraj’s shoulder.
He’s not sure how to feel about his nephew being held by the boyfriend he just met five seconds ago.
“Denzel.” Kami snaps her fingers. His head jerks in her direction. “I’m tired. I need to get my son home. We can do whatever this is later, okay?”
You mean the whole officially meeting your secret boyfriend who’s clearly spent time with my nephew and is actually kind of cute, in a dorky way, thing? Denz considers suggesting. The warning in her eyes stops him.
“Fine,” he relents.
“Thank you.” She sighs. “Text me when you get home.”
Before Kami’s too far, Denz blurts, “Congratulations.”
She pauses. Denz registers the surprise in her eyes before she blinks it away. She smiles, grateful.
Suraj curls an arm around Kami’s waist. Her head tucks into his chest. The three of them make a casual, if not quick, exit toward the elevators, leaving Denz with one thought:
His sister, newly crowned CEO of 24 Carter Gold, stubborn workaholic, is in full-on Sandra Bullock–rom-com love.
Another thought:
He’s gonna drag her so hard for those tragic nicknames.
When the glowing embers of the party finally snuff out, all the guests climbing into their sleek black SUVs and limos and luxury cars, Denz shrugs off his suit jacket.
He rolls up his sleeves. Pockets his phone.
He marches over to where the staff is methodically disassembling things.
Denz waves off anyone saying “No, sir, we’ve got it” to dig in and do his part.
“Rule number one,” Kenneth told him after his first event with the company, “never make anyone feel like they’re beneath you. Thank them. Help them. Be supportive. Then look everyone in the eye and thank them again.”
And so, Denz does.
He hasn’t seen his dad since the announcement. The aunties and uncles are gone too. It’s just him and the Atlas staff.
At least, for the first ten minutes.
He’s walking backward, carrying a box of clean wineglasses, when he collides with someone. A hand catches his elbow, steadying him before he topples over.
“I’m pretty sure,” Eric says, grinning, “if you drop these, your dad will unretire just to fire you.”
Denz guffaws, then remembers Julie. “Shouldn’t you be at home?” It’s close to 1:00 A.M., a nice chill descending on the rooftop.
Eric rubs the back of his neck, bashful. “Ever since she hit her second trimester, my wife says I’ve been a little… clingy?”
“Annoying?”
“Suffocating,” Eric confirms, righting the box in his arms.
That’s when Denz notices the others. Connor, yawning as he helps gather used glasses. Kim, who’s changed from her pleated minidress into casualwear and sneakers, folding linen in a corner. The occasional intern wiping down surfaces, detangling lights.
“You don’t mind a little help, right?” Eric picks up a box. “We’ve got your back, bos—I mean, Denz.”
Denz shoulder-checks him, smiling. “Thanks, E.”
While they work, he doesn’t think about losing. What’s happening between Kami and Suraj or Kami and him. He doesn’t think about Braylon either.
Not much.
Denz watches the party they— he —worked so hard on vanish like Cinderella’s dreams at midnight.
Somewhere after 2:00 A.M ., the rooftop’s clean and organized. Denz tells the staff to go home. He hugs Connor and Kim goodbye, calls a rideshare for a sleep-deprived Eric.
When Denz steps off the elevator, his breath catches. For hours, it feels as if he’s been dragging an anvil everywhere. But the moment he sees them, his strength crumbles.
Waiting in the lobby are Nic, Jordan, Jamie, and his mom.
It hits him like a tsunami. He’s not alone. They’re here . And no one looks mad, annoyed, or disappointed in him. He doesn’t have to deal with the weight of what’s happened by himself.
At least, not yet.
He doesn’t know how many seconds pass before they circle him. No questions are asked. It’s as if they saw it in his red-rimmed eyes, how quickly he was breaking, and immediately caught the shards.
The night finally ends with his tears on Nic’s shoulder. Jordan’s hand rubbing circles on his back. His face buried in Jamie’s neck.