Chapter 32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
PRESTON
We wake up to a winter wonderland. The streets, rooftops, and trees are blanketed with sparkling white snow and the sun is out in full force, lighting everything up.
“It’ll take a while for the streets to get cleared,” Sawyer says as he surveys the snow from the window.
“Do we have to go?” I ask, feeling pouty.
“Madison will kill us if we don’t show up.”
“But my parents will be there,” I object, now actually pouting.
“I know, babe, but it’s a big party. We’ll find a way to avoid them.”
Mrs. Paige makes us pancakes for breakfast, then we get ready to leave.
I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave the safety and warmth of Mrs. Paige’s apartment.
I want to hold onto that joyful, lighthearted feeling, and pretend the whole situation with my dad doesn’t exist. I want to live in this little bubble with Sawyer forever.
Since it’s nearly noon by the time we leave Mrs. Paige’s, we go straight to Madison's parents’ house.
The mansion is already full of guests when we arrive, with no one manning the door to greet newcomers.
Sawyer and I hand our coats and bags off to a staff member, and I give my new scarf an extra pat before letting it go.
A part of me wants to keep it on while in the house, as a sort of armor in case we run into my parents. As if a few yards of yarn, woven together by Mrs. Paige’s talented hands can somehow protect me from Dad’s wrath.
“Ready?” Sawyer takes my hand and kisses the back.
When I give him a nod, he leads us farther into the house. We don’t make it far before there’s a shout.
“Finally!” Madison comes striding up to us like she’s on a mission. “Where the hell have you guys been?”
“It took a while for the snowplows to get to my mom’s neighborhood,” Sawyer explains with a touch of indignation.
Madison ignores him and zeros in on me instead. “Your parents are…” She seems to be at a loss for words. “… acting weird.”
“Weird how?” Sawyer takes a half-step forward, pulling himself to his full height.
“I don’t know.” Madison throws her hands in the air. “Just weird. They’re still schmoozing and all that, but it’s different. I can’t explain it. What happened with them? You didn’t give me an update!”
Oops.
Sawyer looks at me, giving me a chance to tell her myself.
“It didn’t go well.” Then I reconsider. “But it could’ve been worse?”
Madison gives me an exasperated look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Sawyer sighs. “There was yelling. There was name-calling. But in the end, you got your message through.”
“Yeah, that.” I huddle in a little closer to Sawyer.
“And? Now what?” Madison asks.
Sawyer and I exchange a glance and the gesture makes me feel all warm inside. I’m not usually able to communicate with nothing more than a look. But I can do that with Sawyer now. I can tell what he’s thinking.
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “My mom thinks it’ll be okay eventually.”
Madison considers that for a moment, then her expression turns sympathetic. “I hope so. Come on. Party’s this way.”
As we follow Madison toward the party, the hum of conversation grows louder.
A warm, crooning voice sings Christmas songs over a live jazz band.
Madison makes a beeline for the bar first and orders all three of us drinks: glasses of wine for me and her, and a beer for Sawyer.
We try to find an out-of-the-way corner to loiter in, but any hope of avoiding my parents is dashed almost immediately.
“Preston!”
“Fuck,” Sawyer mutters at the same time Madison says, “Oh god.”
Dad’s large hand comes clapping down on my shoulder before any of us have time to react, squeezing hard enough that I wince. What is he doing? Didn’t he hear anything I said yesterday? I’m not going to play along with him anymore.
On my other side, Sawyer tenses like he’s about to push Dad away. But he stops himself when I give him a small shake of the head. His jaw is set, his whole body primed to act the second I give him the slightest signal. I love him for it, but I need to get used to dealing with Dad myself.
“Gentlemen!” He drags me over to a group of men, never taking his hand off my shoulder like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he does. “I believe most of you have met my son, Preston.”
I try my best to smile and not wilt under the weight of all their scrutiny. One of them extends a hand and I shake it automatically.
“Preston’s finishing up his PhD in neurobiology at Grantham University down in New York,” Dad says and my gaze snaps to him in shock.
He’s never started his spiel with that before. He usually launches straight into what I’m going to do at Boyer Pharmaceuticals.
“He’s doing some of the most cutting-edge research in his field. Why don’t you tell us about it, Preston?” He looks at me with the same old overbearing expression, and he doesn’t take his hand off my shoulder. But he’s also never asked me to talk about my research before.
“I, uh, it’s, um…”
“An AI?” Dad prompts.
“Yeah, an AI.” Did Dad get a brain transplant? This is so unlike him. “It takes data from brain scans and tries to reproduce the image the subject was looking at when they were scanned.”
"That’s fascinating,” one of the men says. “I can think of so many practical applications for that kind of technology. Is your school looking for any industry partners?”
“Uh…” I peek at Dad to make sure it’s okay for me to respond. He stares at me expectantly, like he’s curious about the answer too. “I’m not sure, but I guess I can ask.”
“Grantham would be an excellent institution to partner with,” Dad says like this is some presentation we’ve rehearsed. “It would be a smart investment.”
The man holds out a business card to me. “Talk to whoever is in charge in your department and have them give me a call if they’re interested.”
I take the card, dumbfounded. “Uh, okay.”
Then as quickly as I got sucked into Dad’s vortex, I’m spit back out again, and Dad’s entourage disappears into the crowd.
“What the hell was that?” Madison says, closing in on me.
“Seriously, what the fuck?” Sawyer’s still staring at Dad’s back in disbelief.
“We had a long talk after you left yesterday.”
I spin around to find Mom standing behind me. She’s got that soft look in her eyes again.
“Your father and I had an honest conversation about the expectations we’ve had of you, and came to the conclusion that we’ve been a tad unrealistic.”
My jaw hangs open and my brain throws up flashing error messages. She can’t possibly mean what I think she means.
“We won’t force you to join Boyer Pharmaceuticals.
” Then she mutters under her breath, “God knows that would’ve turned into a disaster,” before continuing.
“But we do still expect you to put in appearances now and then. You might not be an executive, but a world-renowned professor has his own kind of clout.”
Mom glances briefly at Sawyer before turning back to me. “Merry Christmas, Preston.” Then she walks away.
“Wow.” Madison looks impressed.
“Shit.” Sawyer looks dazed.
I don’t know what to say.
“So, I guess that means everything’s going to work out?” Madison says, cheeky and hopeful.
“I think it does,” Sawyer agrees. “How do you feel?”
I take a moment to assess before answering. “Good,” I say, entirely sincere. I step closer to Sawyer and let him pull me into his arms. “I’m good.”
Later that evening, when most of the guests have left, Sawyer and I stand in front of a Christmas tree. The room’s lights have been dimmed, leaving the tree glowing in the darkness.
“Fitz isn’t so bad,” I say.
Sawyer chokes out a, “What? Why are you thinking about Fitz?”
I gaze up at him. “Because he brought us together.”
Sawyer smiles down at me. “No, he didn’t. We were always meant to be together.”