Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Dexter
It had only taken three words—sixteen letters—to get me to this place. This café. On this day. Sixteen letters and fifteen years and now I was about to see my brother.
The email from me had been short and to the point. I had questions. I wanted answers. I named the time and place. He replied in three words—I’ll be there.
I slowed my gait and glanced into the coffee shop. I saw him a half second before my eyes landed on him. Still the same—the height, the short hair, the starched collar. But at the same time, a stranger to me. I didn’t even know if he was married.
He picked up his coffee cup and then, without taking a sip, put it down again. Was it nerves? Irritation? I pushed open the door, heading straight for the table. I wasn’t interested in coffee.
I pulled out the chair opposite him. His head shot up and he stood.
“Dexter.”
I sat quickly to avoid the shaking of hands or any other greeting that might or might not be appropriate.
“David,” I replied as he sat down. For a long time, I’d told myself I didn’t need to know anything more than I already did.
I’d buried my past along with my parents and moved on, just wanting to create a legacy that was worthy of them.
But now . . .? I blew out a breath. Why now?
What had changed? Yes, the competition and seeing so many people who knew and loved my parents had started unpicking the locks on the door I’d shut so firmly behind me, but there was something about Hollie—something about seeing my future so clearly with her that I needed to understand where I’d come from.
“I need to hear in your own words why you—” I’d told myself to stay unemotional.
I just wanted the facts. He didn’t need to hear the hurt in my voice.
Now we were both men rather than boys pretending, I wanted to hear what possible excuse he had to have betrayed me and my parents so fundamentally and completely.
“I want to understand the circumstances that led up to you selling the business to Sparkle.”
The gray suit jacket my brother was wearing seemed to deflate like a balloon with a slow puncture.
For a moment, he looked as if he’d expected me to come here and ask him how he thought Frank Lampard was doing at Chelsea.
Had he really thought I was going to offer him my hand and suggest we let bygones be bygones?
He shook his head, took a sip of his coffee and leaned back in his chair. “I was twenty-three. Our parents had just died. And then I’d found out—”
I waited for him to finish his sentence.
“You have to be sure you want to hear this,” he continued.
“Hear what?” I asked. “I’ve been quite clear in telling you what I want.”
He glanced around as if to check no one was listening in on our conversation. “Sometimes, it’s best to remember the best about something. Or someone. Sometimes it’s good not to know everything.”
What was he talking about? “I want to know everything. I’m a grown man. I want the truth.”
“I get it,” he replied, nodding. “I just—Our parents were good people. And they gave us a good life before theirs were cut short.” His voice faltered as he finished his sentence.
Ice trailed down my spine. I wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to thinking about my parents’ death, hearing the upset in my brother’s voice or the anticipation of getting to know something I’d been missing for fifteen years.
“I know that,” I said, my tone curt, trying to cover up the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.
“Primrose and the solicitor called me in for a meeting just after the funeral. They told me the business had taken on a lot of debt over the years. There was always just enough to keep everything going—to pay all the bills and cover all the staff costs, but only just.”
“What sort of debts? For the shop?”
“Yes, there were several mortgages taken out on the property on Hatton Garden, and there were also personal loans.”
“But there was plenty of stock. Dad always had a full safe.”
David nodded. “Yes, they were keeping their heads above water. Remember, Dexter, I was twenty-three. I didn’t know anything much about business at the time.”
Looking back, David had always seemed so much older than me, but it was only a few years—the kind of time that dissolves to nothing as you get older. We’d both been kids when our parents had died. We knew nothing of the world.
“Primrose and the solicitor took me through the options but really there was only one.”
My skin heated and I fisted my hands. “There’s always more than one option.”
He shrugged. “Maybe in the circles you move in,” he said. “But for a twenty-three-year-old who just found out his parents’ business wasn’t the thriving, moneymaking place he’d thought it was, it didn’t seem that way.”
I unclenched my fists. “Go on.” I needed to hear him out. It was my one chance.
“The debts were piling up—already by the funeral we’d missed a mortgage payment because the shop had closed. People’s jobs were at stake. And the business couldn’t take on another designer and cutter.”
“Primrose could have done the design,” I said, instinctively trying to find a hole in his theory.
“Maybe, but trying to find a gem cutter? And someone who could actually run the business? I know you wanted to be that person but, Dexter, you were . . .”
I was young. I knew that. But I was a fast learner.
“You were broken,” he said. It wasn’t what I’d expected. “You were inconsolable in your grief.”
“My parents had just died,” I snapped.
“Our parents, Dexter. Our parents. I lost them too.” He sighed and shook his head. “You weren’t in a position to take on a failing business and neither was I. The offer Sparkle presented paid off all the debts and gave us both a little money—”
“The money wasn’t important. I didn’t give a shit about having money.”
“I thought it would give you a start if you wanted to launch a business yourself. The last thing I wanted was you to start off in life with a concrete block chained to your legs. It would have pulled you under.”
“I’m a fighter,” I said. “You knew that.”
He sighed and nodded. “I know but then? You were drinking. You wouldn’t—couldn’t engage. You wouldn’t even talk about the funeral plans.”
I thought back to that time. It was just a dark pit of horror I thought I would drown in. If it hadn’t been for Beck. And Gabriel. And all the guys. I’d forgotten, but they’d taken shifts and stayed by my side, drunk with me, listened as I ranted. But my real blood brother hadn’t been there.
“The funeral wasn’t important,” I replied. “Their business, their legacy was important.”
“I agree,” he replied. “But what was their business? It was their work ethic, their love for what they did, their talent.” He paused and glanced out of the window. “You’re their legacy.”
His words were like a sucker punch to my gut. All I’d wanted my entire life was to be the son they would have wanted me to be. To have the business they should have had. I’d wanted to honor them. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it? You could have told me about the debts and—”
“I tried, Dexter. You were just . . . you were grieving. And you didn’t want to hear about the possibility of selling the business.”
“Of course I didn’t. Mum and Dad were gone. I didn’t want to lose their business as well.”
“Which is completely understandable. Neither did I. You think I didn’t want you to run that business?
To carry on their name? To do what you’d always dreamed of?
Of course I did. But it was impossible. The business was teetering on the brink, and without Mum and Dad it would have gone under.
There was no doubt about that. I had to think of the jobs that would have been lost when the business collapsed.
Sparkle agreed to keep everyone on. And I had to think about you.
How would you have felt if I’d let you go into that business and it had failed?
How much guilt would you have felt? I know you’re angry, but I wanted you to have a good life—not one marred by a huge failure right at the outset.
And the way you were consumed by your grief—I was afraid.
Afraid for you. Afraid of the consequences of whatever decision I made. ”
What he was saying sounded completely . .
. right. Not just true or accurate, but right, like finding the perfect uncut stone after seeing hundreds and hundreds of not-quite-perfect alternatives.
My instinct always knew instantly that it was just right.
I’d created explanations for David’s behavior that never felt like an exact fit.
But what he was telling me now was the entire truth.
I’d felt angry at my brother for so long, I didn’t know how to feel any other way.
But the anger was no longer directed at him.
Instead, as he spoke, I turned that anger around and pointed it back at myself.
There was no wild conspiracy to cheat me of my legacy, no selfish, quick decision that made life easy for David.
Why had I thought so badly of him for so long? I’d held on to so much futile fury. So much bitterness. For too many wasted years.
I swallowed, trying to clear the regret from my throat. “Why Sparkle?” I asked. “Of all the people.”
“That was . . . tough. I asked the solicitor to see if anyone else was interested. But realistically, Sparkle was willing to pay far more than the business was worth. They were guaranteeing the jobs of the people who had worked for Mum and Dad. And it left some money for you to use to start again. I asked myself time and time again what our parents would have wanted me to do, and to this day I still think they would have told me to take the money.”
It was as if someone had wrapped a belt around my chest and was pulling it tighter and tighter. My brother had done everything he could. He’d made the best decision—the decision I would have made if I’d been brave enough or cognizant enough to have been involved.
“And you got to start your own business. I know they would have been so proud of you.”
“I still miss them,” I said, wincing at the constriction around my chest. “All these years later, the pain is still there.”
“I don’t think it will ever go away,” he replied.
He had it too—we both shared their loss. Over the years I’d been able to convince myself that my pain was deeper, stronger, harder somehow. I thought the fact that I’d been denied their legacy meant I loved them more. But that wasn’t true.
“I blamed you,” I said. “For a lot of years.” The wall of rancor I’d placed between me and my brother slowly crumbled as I looked at him through fresh eyes.
“I blamed myself. I still do.”
“You did nothing wrong.” All these years I’d pushed him away when I’d needed him. He’d just been trying to do his best.
“I wanted to save the business so badly,” he said. “For you. For us. For them. I wanted to keep them close.”
“It wouldn’t have worked,” I said. “Nothing would have brought them back.” By hating my brother, I’d just punished myself even more.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I failed you when you needed me most.”
“Don’t say that. If I hadn’t been so bloody minded. So blinkered.” I paused, trying to take it all in. Hollie had been right. “If I’d just remembered who you were, I would never have assumed the worst of you.”
“I should have made you see somehow. Made you listen to me.”
I managed to let out a small laugh. “No one other than Mum and Dad ever made me do anything I didn’t want to.”
He grinned at me. “I guess that’s true.” He sighed. “But I wish over the years I had tried more. I thought if I gave you a little space, you might come around.”
“I guess I did. But it shouldn’t have taken so long. I’m sorry, brother.” I took a steadying breath. “They would hate that we haven’t spoken in so long.”
He nodded, his glassy eyes giving way to tears. He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose, clearing away the signs of grief. “I think that’s why I pushed for the bank to sponsor the competition.”
“That’s why you were on the list of attendees at the launch?” I’d thought he was there with Sparkle. Again, I’d made assumptions I had no right to.
“I heard you were entering and I got the bank to sponsor. I wanted . . . some kind of connection. I didn’t dare to hope we’d talk, but I just wanted to be a part of your life in some small way.
I couldn’t face attending in the end. Didn’t want to risk coming face-to-face with you and it going badly. ”
I’d spent the last fifteen years thinking David had been plotting against me. All that futile anger I’d felt toward him. All that pointless fury.
Too much time had been wasted.
Too much lost that neither of us would get back.
We had to make things right.
Most importantly, I had to learn my lesson. I had to seize opportunities. I had to make the most of everything and everybody in my life.