Chapter 40 - Sullivan
SULLIVAN
“I’m raising our fee by two hundred percent. That’s fine, right? Actually, you’re listening so hard, you’re thinking three hundred sounds better, aren’t you?”
“Mm.” I grunt, staring across my desk and into the office opposite. Molly’s in there with Arabella.
She’s coloring, her face set in a scowl of concentration. My happy little girl has changed. Arabella thought it could be the ‘terrible twos’ coming late, seeing as Molly is turning three soon.
But it isn’t just the increase in tantrums. It’s the way she’s stopped sleeping through the night and has been climbing into bed with me again. And the way she’s gone back to refusing to eat all of her meals.
“I tried to make bear pancakes last week and she threw them on the floor, then cried.”
“What? Oh, I see,” Rafe says in understanding through the phone speaker. “She’ll be okay. She’s adjusting, that’s all.”
“It’s been almost three weeks. I thought kids were supposed to adjust fast.” I lean over my desk and scrub a hand around my jaw. “She won’t wear anything else except this bunny onesie. I have to sneak the thing out of her room at night to get it into the laundry.”
“You could call Tate? Maybe Molly would be happier if she speaks to her.”
“I think it’ll just confuse her,” I say.
I don’t know that for certain. But I do know I’m too fucking scared to find out. This is the way things have to be.
“How was LA?” Rafe asks, sensing my need to change the subject.
“Fine. The store is thriving. The new manager has it handled.”
“Had to go check in person, though, right?”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“Like you checked San Diego last week.”
“Exactly,” I clip back.
“And San Francisco,” Rafe adds, letting his unspoken knowledge of where I’ve really been hang in the air.
“You told your sister that you’re jerking off to videos of her best friend yet?”
“Arsehole.” Rafe chuckles. “Fine. Point taken. I won’t mention your sudden increase in airmiles again.”
“Good,” I grumble.
“Speaking of women we aren’t supposed to be speaking about…” Rafe murmurs. “My sister and Aurora just walked in. I’ve got to go.”
“Stay sitting at your desk. That way they won’t see your boner.”
“Fuck off,” he rumbles, hanging up.
I look up as my father, Sinclair, and her dog, Monty, arrive and go in to greet Molly and Arabella. I stand and make my way to the office opposite, thanking Arabella as she passes me on her way back out to her office.
“Ready for a sleepover with Grandad?” my father asks as he swoops down and pulls Molly into his arms.
She grins at him, obviously saving her recent tantrums for my personal enjoyment only.
“See baby?” she asks hopefully.
“I think we can arrange that.” He chuckles.
My father bought a home scan machine when Halliday fell pregnant. He says it’s for peace of mind. But we all know it’s because he’s excited and wants to see the baby every day.
He was never like this with our mother. Halliday’s been good for him.
“Hallie said if you’re lucky, you might even feel the baby move,” he adds.
Molly’s eyes widen in wonder, and she looks at Sinclair, who reaches out to grab her little hand and kiss her fingers.
“I’m going to come with you and Grandad. I’ve got some wedding things to talk about with Halliday. That okay?”
“It okay,” Molly replies seriously, like she’s given it great thought.
“Good.”
My sister’s gaze slides to me.
“I guess you’re busy tonight, huh? Since it’s Thursday.” The repulsion in her voice is palpable.
I bristle, straightening my shoulders. “I have plans, if that’s what you’re asking, Sis?”
“I can’t believe you still have that place.”
“I have good reason to, not that I have to explain myself.”
“Whatever.” Sinclair snorts. “I’m going to go to the bathroom before we leave.”
She spins and storms off, Monty trailing obediently behind her.
“She’ll be fine,” my father assures.
“Denver’s a saint for being her bodyguard for as long as he was,” I mutter. “How’s finding his replacement going?”
“Damn impossible,” my father says, lowering his voice as he places Molly down and tells her to collect her baby from where she’s left it strapped in a toy stroller across the room.
Not long after the girls came home from Halliday’s bachelorette, Denver handed in his notice. He’s worked as my father’s Head of Security for years. He’s like one of the family. I never thought he’d leave.
Then one day he was gone.
Just like that. Handed his notice in and left the city the same day.
“You’ll find someone. I can help you interview if you like?”
He nods and claps me between the shoulder blades. “Thanks, Son. Mal said he will too now that he’s back from Botswana for a couple of weeks. We’ll get something set up.”
“I’m sorry if she disturbs you tonight,” I say, keeping my voice low and gesturing to Molly.
“She still getting out of bed?”
“Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “Every night since Tate left.”
My father nods. I told him about Tate nannying for Molly. And he understands why she is now on the other side of the country.
I had to do it.
“Have you heard from Natasha recently?” he asks.
Just hearing her name has me grinding my teeth until my jaw throbs.
“She texted again. Same old story. Says she wants to see Molly, but all she really wants is money. She didn’t even mention Molly’s birthday. I’m not sure she even remembers it’s coming up.”
“Hmm,” my father grumbles as I crouch and hold my arms out for Molly.
“Come and give Daddy a hug before you go, Sweetheart. And I’ll see you first thing in the morning, okay?”
She runs over to me, and I wrap my arms around her, stroking her back beneath the furry bunny onesie.
“I love you so much,” I tell her.
It’s the truth. But what’s also true is how badly I need tonight. I haven’t been to The Lanceford since meeting Tate.
It’s time to move on.
“Did my father send you? Or was it Sinclair?” I ask as I open the door to a tired-looking Uncle Mal on the other side.
“Neither. But they are concerned about you.”
“I could have had company.” I grunt.
He looks past me into the hotel room and raises a brow.
“I got a headache and decided to be alone,” I lie, following his gaze to the untouched bed and single glass of whiskey sitting next to a half-empty bottle on the table.
“If I were wallowing in guilt over losing someone, I’d go to the place where I can remind myself of who I once was too,” Mal murmurs, stepping past me and into the room.
He walks over to the whiskey bottle and lifts it.
“Go ahead,” I invite, pointing at a clean glass. “It’ll stop me from drinking the whole damn thing.”
“Thanks.” He sighs, pouring a generous amount into the glass.
“Dad told you Tate left, then?”
He slides one hand into his pant pockets and takes a slow drink with the other.
“He did. She’s the woman you were talking about at the cemetery? When you said you’d met someone?”
“Yeah.” I refill my glass then walk over to join him where he’s standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the city.
“I see.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. He knows why Tate had to leave. The whole family knows.
Beauforts stick together.
“I’m sorry, Sull,” he says after a few minutes.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Me too.”
“So, are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Expecting company?”
He tips his head toward the room behind us—the one with the giant bed.
The cabinet beside it is stocked with condoms, lube, and everything else I need for my stays at The Lanceford.
It’s why I had none that first time with Tate.
I don’t share the home Molly and I live in with anyone. Sex happens here. And here only.
Until Tate, of course. And I didn’t want to wear condoms with her. I wanted every damn inch of her as close to me as I could get it.
It was reckless. So fucking risky. She could have gotten pregnant; then where would we be?
I look at the room through new eyes. No wonder Sinclair hates hearing about this place. I bring women here to fuck, nothing more.
Because I don’t do feelings. I don’t do love.
I mean, I didn’t.
I shake my head, turning back to the window.
“I don’t want to be that version of myself anymore.
Molly deserves better than a father who has women approach him in front of her and he has to wrack his brains to recall if he’s had sex with them or not.
She’s going to grow up into an incredible, smart, and funny young woman.
I can’t jeopardize her belief in how she should be treated as a woman by being the prime example of the type of man she should avoid at all costs because he treats her as nothing more than an object for his own sexual gratification. ”
“Very eloquent words after half a bottle of whiskey,” Uncle Mal remarks.
I snort, taking another drink. “Yeah. Sin would be fucking proud of me if she weren’t already disgusted.”
“She’s your sister. She’ll always be savage when she doesn’t agree with you. It’s because she loves you that she cares so much.”
I exhale slowly as Uncle Mal squeezes my shoulder.
“You’re right.”
“I am.” He chuckles softly. “I know sisters.”
I turn to him and the deeply etched lines of grief pulling at his eyes make it hard to swallow. When I lost my mother, he lost his sister. The only sibling he had.
“You can’t deny your past, Sull. You can only do your best from this moment on. That’s all any of us can do.”
“What if my best isn’t good enough?”
“It will be. You’ll figure it out. And if you need help, you’ve got it right here.” He tips his head back and drains his glass. “We’ve been through hell as a family. But we stick together.”
He gives me a weighted look like he wants to say something else. But instead, he pulls me into a one-armed hug, slapping me on the back.
“You’ll be fine, boy. Just fine.”
He gives me a parting nod and deposits his empty glass on the table as he leaves.
I collapse into a seat and take my time finishing my glass of whiskey. I could drink the whole damn bottle and pass out on the bed. But with each passing second the walls of the room seem to close in on me, making it hard to breathe.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll to a number and lift it to my ear.
My empty glass falls from my hand and lands softly on the carpet. I pinch my nose and drag in a shuddery breath as I listen.
I end the call without saying anything and haul myself to my feet.
Grabbing the trash can, I rip the nightstand drawer out and turn it upside down, shaking the contents into the trash.
Then I walk into the bathroom and throw in my toothbrush and floss.
I storm around, stripping the place of every last shred of me.
I drop the trash can on the floor and catch sight of myself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes stare back at me.
“Sort yourself the fuck out,” I mutter.
I walk out of the room and let the door slam shut behind me.
The young woman on reception looks up with a bright smile as I exit the elevator and walk over.
“Mr. Beaufort. It’s good to see you again. Is everything okay with your suite?”
I press the keycard down on the counter, sliding it over to her.
“Cancel my contract, please.”
Her eyes pop wide. “You’ve been a valued guest for almost three years. We’ll be very sad to see you go.”
“Nothing lasts forever,” I grunt, the whiskey making my head too foggy for small talk.
She takes the keycard and taps into her computer. “You’re paid up until the end of next month, so it will remain yours until then, should you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” I clip, already turning away. “But thank you.”