Chapter 18 Daddy Issues #2
The first thing I notice when I step out of the bathroom is the silence.
It’s deafening against the patter of my footsteps on the shining tile floors.
The second thing I notice, as I round the corner, is that Carlisle Graves has arrived.
He’s standing between his wife and son, whose expression is mixed between anger and disgust. The man matches Noah’s good looks, but there is an edge to him.
He stands tall, and even in a room with his enchanting wife, pulls the attention with his sharp manners.
He holds a glass of bourbon in one hand, the other waving casually with his words.
“Oh, hello. You must be my son’s colleague from that little wellness startup he ran off to run.” His voice is syrupy and turns my stomach over again.
Ignoring his off-putting introduction and condescending description of Noah’s work, I smile. “Yes. I work at Flourish.”
Noah stands, rounds on the couch and settles in at my side, placing his hand on the small of my back. After two days at the Barker’s I should be used to his proximity and his touch, but this is different. This is protective.
His father stalks forward, extending his hand in greeting. “Carlisle Graves.”
Noah stiffens beside me as I reach out to take it. “Charlotte Wilde. It’s a pleasure.”
“I’m sure,” he says, dropping my hand and sipping on his drink.
Vivian stands, and claps in a way that reminds me of Cheryl. “Perfect. We’re all here. Let’s eat!”
Her invitation is jumpy, as if she’s actively avoiding something. Noah prompts me forward and we follow his parents into the dining room. Once settled into our seats, we load our plates in silence.
“Tell me, Charlotte,” Carlisle muses. “Are things up north really as charming as my son seems to think they are?”
I take a sip of water and offer Noah a smile. “I think so. But Portland has always been home for me.”
“And your parents are proud of the work you’re doing?”
I open my mouth to answer but Vivian saves me the trouble. “Surely we can let the poor girl eat before pestering her with questions. She’s been entertaining me tirelessly, dear.”
Carlisle relents and takes another bite.
“Noah then. How’s business?”
“Fine.”
Carlisle sucks in a sharp breath. “Fine is a death sentence, son. Surely you know that better than anyone.”
I frown, staring at the chopped salad I’ve been pushing around my plate.
“There are worse things,” Noah says, his words wrapped so tight around the discomfort.
Carlisle scoffs. “All that time you could have been learning from—”
“I’d rather not bore us with talk of work. We’re not here on business.”
I flinch at Noah’s sharp response, the way it cuts his father’s off with two swift slices. Everything in the room is glass; one wrong touch and it will all come shattering down around us.
“Ha!” Carlisle’s laugh is anything but amused. “I’m asking about your life. This passion project of yours was enough to pull you from everything you once held dear. I simply want to make sure it’s serving you.”
Noah’s voice is low and tense as he stays firm in his resolve.
“As we’ve previously discussed, Flourish is more than a passion project.
Whether you deem it worthy of your time is irrelevant.
It’s not yours to ruin. If you have genuine questions about my life, or even Charlotte’s, I think we can offer the polite conversation appropriate for this lunch. If not, we will excuse ourselves.”
Carlisle raises his brow and sits back, folding his arms across his chest as though he’s appraising the validity of Noah’s threat. Then, his attention shifts back to me.
He leans forward, his elbows on the table. “Tell me dear, what does your loyalty cost?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much for the trade secret that will crumble this little project of my son’s and bring him home where he belongs? Name your price, and I will pay it.”
Noah shoves back from the table and stands, his fists clenched. “That’s enough,” he bites.
“Noah,” Vivian says, her tone sounding like she’s used it too many times to soothe the wounds he’s nursing.
“No,” he says, turning to face her. His features soften. “I won’t do this.”
He turns without another word, and I nearly fall out of my chair moving to follow. At the door, I pause to address the woman who, only an hour ago, welcomed me with open arms.
“You have a beautiful home. Thank you for the invitation.”
Vivian nods as Carlisle shakes his head and gulps down the rest of the bourbon in his glass while I slip out without another word.
Noah is pacing in the driveway when I break from the house. He turns to face me with a look that would break the stoniest of hearts and I adjust my bag on my shoulder as I approach.
“Give me the keys.”
“I’m fine.”
“Give me the keys. You’re worked up and in no shape to drive.”
He digs the keys out of his pocket and tosses them to me. Catching them out of the air, I walk backwards towards the car and jerk my head.
“Come on, you look like you could use something stronger than iced tea.”