Thayer #2
“You’re her only brother.” I have a strong urge to roll my eyes, probably because I’ve been around Emily too long.
My grandmother used to warn me that if I rolled my eyes too much, they would freeze that way.
That terrified me at ten years old. I believed my grandmother knew everything. If she said it, it must be true.
“Ah, po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Still her favorite.” He sits on the corner of my desk, and I have a powerful urge to throw a letter opener at him. “Either way, I’m coming, and so are Anders and Ryder.”
“That’s not a good idea. This is an important event.”
“It’s a summer soiree. There’s nothing important about it. It’s mimosas and crudités.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. There are no mimosas for Emily. She’s pregnant.”
“But not ill,” Oliver says, laughter filling his voice, his finger pointing up. “You need us there, more than Emily does.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Sure, her father had money her whole life, but they didn’t grow up that way in Maine.”
“Yes, I know. And you’re just proving my point that she needs us.”
My eyes narrow at him because, really, I don’t think Emily needs any of us. She’s stronger than they think she is for sure, and I know she’s a damn lot stronger than James thinks she is, which is going to serve us well. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
“No.” He reaches for a file on my desk, and I smack his hand away.
“And I see the wheels turning in your head. Don’t bother calling the Joneses.
They’re not going to un-invite me. Having a royal or two at their party?
I don’t like it, but having an heir or even a spare to the spare of the heir brings clout.
Actually, I fucking hate it, but it is what it is.
That’s how the world works. You know, Thayer.
” Oliver raises his eyebrow at me. More than once at a bar, I’d bring a girl or two over to our table.
I’d introduce them to him, knowing that there was no way they wouldn’t come home with us after meeting Oliver.
I’ve used his clout before, and there’s no doubt that probably, in this cyclone we’re in, I’ll have to use it again.
“Fine, but don’t fuck this up. My staff are smart. You need to be more careful—no more orgies with Emily, in the den or anywhere on the estate. And don’t go take that literally and fuck around in one of the SUVs.”
Oliver stands up abruptly and rounds the desk.
He glowers down at me. “Fuck you, Zambrano. What happened in the den was nothing like what you and I used to do. This is Emily, not some random girl who was lusting after a royal and a billionaire’s son.
Don’t you ever dare defile her name again.
I don’t care who you are, Zambrano. I don’t care who your dad is.
The history between the two of us? It’s gone. I will always be on her side.”
“James erased the history between the two of us years ago when he tried to end your life on the Rock Candy.”
“Not true. Even with everything the other guys told me happened on your yacht, I know you. I know you would never have pulled the trigger. I know you were battling to follow your father’s orders. And you didn’t. You didn’t kill the other half of the crew; you let them escape.”
Now my eyebrow shoots up at him. “I’m not a hero. Don’t forget that.”
“You forget I’ve been to your house in Thailand. No one gets out of there that you don’t want to.”
I shrug. He has more faith in me than he should.
Because if it were up to me, they might still be locked upstairs while I tried to figure out what to do with my father—their escaping was the best thing that ever happened to me.
It would’ve been even better if my father had been taken down then.
Fuck, I wouldn’t even have cared if I’d gone to jail.
If they’d been able to dismantle his whole operation?
It would’ve been worth it. But not James, no.
He had precautions and safeguards in place.
He didn’t come out of it unscathed, but he came out of it.
This time there can be no back door for him. No secret back passageway. No Teflon business practices. I know it seems slow to Emily and her guys, that I’m not doing anything. They haven’t come at me about it yet. But they will. It’s only a matter of time.
“You need to have less faith in me, my old friend,” I tell Oliver.
“No, you need to have more faith in yourself. Either way, we’re all coming to the party, and that’s all that really matters.
Just wanted you to know that we’re going to be there, so you aren’t blindsided.
” He slaps the side of my shoulder. “And you need to not look and act like you’re going to a funeral.
You’re supposed to be happily engaged to be married with a little one on the way. ”
I scowl. I fucking hate parties.
“I’m not supposed to tell, but with our history?” He shrugs. “Juliana Jones got wind of Emily’s birthday. I hear there’s going to be a cake in her honor.”
“Her birthday. How did she find out?” I glare at Oliver.
“I thought she might like the chance to wow your new fiancée.” Oliver gives me one of his cavalier salutes and dashes out of the room. The door closes with a near silent click.
Fucking fantastic. I stride to the other side of the room and throw the lock. The last thing I need is Emily’s other boyfriends interrupting the rest of my business day.
Her birthday. I sit back down with my reports and close my eyes, pinching my temples, and I can smell the spring in Vermont mud season, hear rain birds singing.
Senior year, we were still dating, things were still good.
I was maybe a week away from realizing I had to end things for her own good.
I couldn’t keep her. I knew my family would slowly rot her from the inside out.
She ended up better than me. Deserves better than me even now.
When I realized her birthday was coming up?
I couldn’t break up with her beforehand.
I’d have that one last memory with her before I had to end things.
I’d imagined breaking up with her before graduation so she’d have enough time to come to the realization that it was the right thing to do.
But in the end, I was too much of a coward for even that.
I waited until the night before I flew back to Switzerland.
I was an asshole then, and I’m an asshole now.
Like I told Emily, people don’t change. Especially Zambranos.
But for her birthday, I wanted to be perfect.
I knew she didn’t like splashy events; renting out a restaurant with a violinist playing in the corner wasn’t the way to go with her.
Instead, I picked her up at the crack of dawn, and we drove two hours into New Hampshire.
I’d arranged for a dog sanctuary to be closed for the day.
We played all day with the dogs, even a litter of Golden Retriever puppies and old dogs so full of arthritis they could barely move.
But Emily loved all of them the same. And at the end of the day, I gave her her gift.
A card. I still remember her blue eyes shimmering in the early evening sunlight as we sat in the car, waiting to drive back to school.
We were covered in mud and smelled like the inside of an old boot, but she was happy.
When she finished reading the card, she hugged me so hard.
I can still feel it. This is the best present I’ve ever been given. Thank you.
I knew her at one point. I’ve just forgotten.