Chapter 23 Countdown
Countdown
MITCHELL
The morning I was set to meet Winona for the first time in a week, I finished my book.
I actually fucking finished the thing.
Winona was the first person I wanted to tell. She would be, but I’d promised myself I’d leave her alone until tonight.
Instead, I stood up, reaching for the little slip of paper tacked up above my desk.
The day I left for college, Mom presented me with a check for eight thousand dollars. “It’s not nearly enough,” she told me. “But I’ve been saving since you were little.”
Dad had snorted “That’s not going to make a dent in the city.”
He hadn’t contributed at all, of course.
Mom had worked a part-time job at the fabric shop for extra pocket money for as long as we could remember, even though Dad made good money, because he was so stingy with anything more than the basics.
I pay all the goddamned bills. He did keep us housed and fed. But extras were for him and him alone.
I’d gotten a full ride to school. I didn’t need the money and Mom knew it. But I took the check. Because Mom had waited 17 years for this moment. She’d put hearts on the memo line and written For my son Mitchell’s wildest dreams. She’d done the same for Blake and Conrad.
“I’ll use it to live off when I write my first book,” I told her, knowing full well talking about writing a book would make my father say something shitty.
On cue, Dad said, “Might as well flush it down the can right now.”
“It’ll happen,” I promised Mom.
She’d smiled, her eyes glassy with tears. “I believe you,” she whispered when she hugged me.
Over the years Dad would ask me about the book, not out of interest but to laugh about it. Like the dream I’d had since hiding under the blankets with books as a kid was some big, hilarious joke.
The check had stayed folded in my wallet until I’d come to Quince Valley. It had long since expired, and I’d had the money moved to a holding account in Mom’s name. But the piece of paper meant everything.
I held it now, tracing my finger over Mom’s handwriting.
I’d tell her when I got back. It wouldn’t mean anything to her now, of course.
But maybe some part of her mind would hear I’d fulfilled my promise.
Maybe a little part of her would still be proud.
I’d tell her the reason I finally finished was because of Winona.
A woman whose scent I breathed each night as I fell asleep.
A woman I wanted to tell my most vulnerable secrets to—and cradle hers in my hand—and a woman I wanted to…
I cut myself off before I devolved into not mom-friendly thoughts, setting the check down onto the pages of the manuscript.
I should have felt spent, but instead I was filled with an energy I couldn’t remember having since those nights in college when I stayed up for days at a time building the beginnings of LoupTeq. I felt superhuman then, just like I did now.
And tonight I was seeing Winona. It was quite possibly the best day of my fucking life.
“Are you going to tell me about her?” Sal asked on the phone as I headed into the house a short time later. It was time to shower and shave and get dressed so I looked my fucking best. For Winona I wanted to always be at my best.
“You know who she is.” I headed for my closet, thinking about what suit I was going to wear. Would I really want to wear a suit for what I had planned? Later, maybe. Definitely.
“I know it’s the plumber,” Sal said. “I know her name and address and telephone number. But you haven’t informed me of any personal details.”
Sal was like a supercomputer in human form. We’d met in college, when she’d walked up to me in a computer lab and said, verbatim, “My name is Salima Zhang. You’re going places, but you need my help.” She’d been right, and I’d had zero regrets.
“Why do you want to know?” I asked, heading up the stairs. Sal had never cared about any relationships I’d had before. Not that this was a relationship, exactly.
My chest tweaked at that. Is that what I wanted here? I filed that thought away.
“I’ve never heard you talk about anyone the way you talk about Winona.”
“I don’t talk about her.”
“Yes, you do. You drop her into every conversation.” Sal didn’t sound annoyed like she normally did when I was distracted. She sounded... Soft.
I frowned as I entered my closet. “I thought you hated romance?”
“I don’t hate romance. I just don’t participate in it.”
That day in the computer lab, she’d said, “I’m aromantic and asexual, just so you know.” I could tell it wasn’t a line to put me off. It was just facts. She was the only person I knew who truly was fully happy without anyone near her, ever.
It was a new thing to hear the affection in her voice now, though.
“I’m happy for you, Mitchell.”
I believed her. I held out a black tie, then tossed it onto the closet island. “Thank you, Sal.”
“Even though it’s temporary, since you’re going to be coming back in two weeks to launch the acquisition.”
My stomach pitched. “I don’t need the reminder.
” I was unable to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
I didn’t like thinking about two weeks from now.
But Sal had told me at the beginning of the call that Zynstar had made it clear there could be no more delays.
Research had been halted in their biggest division because of me setting the timeline back for a second time.
I couldn’t risk that happening again. Plus, Conrad had called this morning to tell me Mom had been showing signs of agitation.
He assured me it wasn’t urgent, but I knew that could change at any moment. I wouldn’t delay getting back again.
Sal listed off items that would be on my schedule the moment I stepped off the plane in Seattle.
I’d barely have time to sleep. I wanted off the call.
I wanted to only focus on Winona, especially now that the deadline for leaving had become immovable.
“Is there anything else?” I asked, squatting down to the shoes.
“There is.”
I pulled out a pair of sneakers. My temple pulsed. “Can it wait?”
“Mitchell, it’s waited long enough. It’s about your father.”
Fuck. I went still, bracing my hand on the floor. “What is it?”
“He had a heart attack.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks? Why didn’t—”
“I tried to tell you. You asked if anyone was dead and he is not.”
Leave it to Sal to be as literal as fuck.
She filled me in on the details. It was a minor heart attack, and he’d been home after a night at the hospital. I thanked her, robotically. Then I told her to connect me to my brothers.
“Were either of you going to tell me?” I snapped. It was a video call, Blake on the top of my phone screen, Conrad the bottom. Sal was off to set up preparations for tonight’s dinner.
Conrad rolled his eyes. Blake pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Did you check your messages, Mitchell?” Blake sounded exhausted. “If you did that, or answered the fucking phone, you might have known.”
“He’s okay now,” Conrad said, more accustomed to my bullshit.
I didn’t know why I cared. I truly didn’t. I hated my father. We all did. But he was still our father.
“He’s being monitored,” Conrad said. “I have a nurse checking in on him.”
I had a fund set up for health things for everyone in my family. I’d never explicitly said it wasn’t to be used on our father. But I was glad now Conrad had taken the initiative.
“Thank you for watching things,” I said, my voice stiff. “I’ll be back in two weeks. I’ll check in on him then.”
“Is that for sure this time, Mitchie?” Conrad asked.
“Yes,” I snapped.
Blake frowned. “You’re really going to see him?”
Blake didn’t talk to our dad. I used to when I had to, when Mom was still at home. Conrad was the most connected, and I knew he felt an obligation as the old man aged. But he kept his distance from him emotionally, and never expected us to step up.
I rubbed my temples. “I haven’t decided yet.”
I asked Conrad if there’d been any change with Mom since this morning. It was neurotic, but I needed to stop thinking about dad for the time being. He was going to be okay for now.
“No change in the six hours since I talked to you,” Conrad said, his voice only slightly sarcastic. “She’ll be fine for two weeks, Mitchie. If anything changes I’ll let you know.” A slam sounded on Conrad’s screen and I grinned as his son Artie crowded in next to him.
“Uncle Mitch!” he exclaimed.
“My man,” I said, standing back up.
“Hey!” said Blake. “What about Uncle Blake?”
“I just talked to you yesterday,” Artie said, rolling his eyes. He was ten and we all loved the shit out of him.
The laughter and jabs that followed were exactly what we needed.
Artie reminded his dad he’d promised to take him swimming and ran off to grab his stuff.
As my brothers and I said our goodbyes, I told them I’d answer if either of them texted 911. I hesitated, then added, “I’ll be better at it now since I finished the book.”
Conrad leaned in. “Shut up.”
“Seriously?” Blake asked.
I told them I wasn’t going to talk about it but they grilled me anyway. Both of them looked proud enough to burst.
“It was your lucky charm, wasn’t it?” Blake asked.
Conrad’s brows bunched. “What’s his lucky charm?”
“Not what.” Blake smirked. “Who.”
“I’m hanging up now,” I said.
Blake grinned. “Her name is Winona, she’s—”
I hung up. Let them talk.
I had two weeks before reality came crashing in. Two precious weeks where Winona was all mine. From now to then, I didn’t want to think about a single other thing.