Chapter Eleven
Well, shit.
There’s no way out of this. I know West sees it roll through me—the instinct I have to do an immediate one-eighty and go back to dancing with a five-year-old as far across the room as I can get. But his eyes widen, and he does a quick, warning shake of his head. “It’s okay,” his lips say.
And I can do nothing but trust him.
Little Nixon is smarter than I expected, peeling off and running back to Lincoln just as we approach the circle of his family: Ray, Janet, Jake, and West. And with them, the two people I assume from family resemblance are Alex and Charlotte.
Like his father, Alex is shorter, with Janet’s thin, birdlike frame. Honestly, he looks almost exactly like I imagined he would. Hawkish and intense. But Charlie got the best of all of them: the thick, honey hair, full mouth, and graceful posture. Each child has inherited their father’s eyes, but like West’s, Charlie’s are warm. They’re also playful like Jake’s, and she immediately turns to me, pulling me into her arms.
“Finally!” she sings. “There is no excuse! None! I am never letting you go! Another sister!” Laughing, she pulls back and hello? I am immediately in love.
“It’s so good to meet you,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “It’s crazy that it’s been this long.”
“It must be so amazing, though! To be in medical school and go to Cambodia for a class? Your life is unreal!”
I glance at West, and he avoids my eyes, lifting his glass to his lips. “It is actually unreal, I agree!”
“I was in Thailand a couple weeks ago, and I could have come to visit you in Battambang if I’d known sooner!”
This cover story has made my palms so sweaty I’m tempted to reach up and drag them down West’s chest in retaliation. “No, no. No apologies needed.”
“I hope after the wedding we’ll see each other more?”
“We absolutely will.”
Hoping to head off any questions from Charlie about Cambodia, a place I sadly have only experienced through the LA food scene, I turn to Alex. “Hi,” I say, extending my hand. “You must be Alex. I’m Anna. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”
“Yes.” He loosely clasps my hand in his and then lets go. If Ray Weston gives a grizzly-bear handshake, Alex Weston’s is a jellyfish. He says nothing else and aims a pained smile somewhere over my shoulder.
A brick wall, interesting. I knew West and Alex didn’t get along swimmingly, but this is bigger than I imagined.
West still isn’t looking at me—he appears to be listening to a conversation between Jake and Ray, but I can feel his passive attention anyway. And there are one hundred thousand reasons why I need to up my charming game. Alex seems like a dead end, so I brave the odds that Charlie might ask me about Cambodian geography and turn back to her. “How are you? Ready for everything that’s going to happen this week?”
“I am!” She launches into a happy spiel, describing the events of the week (“The itinerary is amazing!” I agree), how excited she is to see everyone (“I’m sure!”), how I must meet her best friend coming in from New York who just finished her residency in otolaryngology (fuuuuuck me), how she can’t wait for the Old Hollywood party night and she hopes I will make it (“Of course, are you kidding?” I enthuse, because honestly what else would I be doing that night?) before she does an adorable little overwhelmed gesture and hugs me again. I catch West’s eyes over her shoulder and see it on his face, how much he loves her.
“Your hair is so pretty!” Charlie cries when she steps back. My God, this is like conversing with a flower.
Janet, who had been talking to Jake and Ray, turns to us. “Charlotte wanted to color her hair in high school. I said absolutely not.”
“Actually, Mom, you said if I got straight A’s, I could do it.”
Janet smiles tightly. “Exactly.” Welp, there it is. She turns her laser focus to me. “How do your professors react to your hair?”
I feel West’s hand settle on my lower back. “I mean,” I say self-consciously as all other conversation halts and every eye is on me now. “I’m sure they like it but are probably more impressed with my amazing doctor skills.”
West’s fingers flex against my back in response to this, and yes, Mr. Perfect, I realize that sounded idiotic. I want to stomp hard on his big, stupid foot. If he’s going to judge how I fake-doctor this, then maybe he should have given me a different job.
“How was Cambodia?” Charlie asks in a low, reverent voice. Every member of the Weston family waits for my answer.
“So humid.” I pause, and in the silence realize that this isn’t exactly what Charlie meant. “Oh, but there were also, like, a lot of broken bones?”
Oh God.
Alex frowns, decides to speak. “Bones, specifically?”
West’s hand does the flexing thing again.
“Right,” I say. “Well, I was helping in a clinic near a bridge. Without rails. A lot of people fell off.”
Janet gasps. “Dear God, that’s horrible!”
I shrug, smiling. “But good for business, I guess!”
The circle falls deathly silent. West drowns himself in his whiskey.
“Medical humor.” God, this is a train wreck. “Wrong crowd. Hey, did you hear that West—Liam—is training for a triathlon?”
At least, he looks like he is, and his physique is the first thing that popped into my head. That shower really destroyed me.
“Is that right?” Ray asks, turning his focus to his son. “We gonna race?”
Hand flex. Heavy sigh near my ear. “We—” Another sigh, and I feel a pang of victory even though I’ve clearly said something wrong. How does it feel to have to play along, Dr. Weston! “Dad, we could just run. It doesn’t have to be a—”
“Meet me at sunrise tomorrow.” Ray says, eyes like laser beams. “We can race to the black beach and back.”
West drops his hand from my back. He’s given up. “We’ll see.”
Ray laughs. “Come on. Play with the big kids this week, Liam.”
“It’s vacation, Dad, I’m not setting an alarm.”
“Look at this fucking academic!” Ray crows. “What kind of man needs to set an alarm?”
“I’ve never needed an alarm,” Alex cuts in. “Up with the sun even after a late night at the office. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Liam. You probably just need more sleep than the average man.”
West doesn’t rise to the bait, but a muscle in his jaw clenches repeatedly. I, however, am not here for the recreational dragging.
“It’s unlikely,” I say, and every head turns my way. “Everyone needs seven to nine hours of sleep a night. You can try to convince yourself you don’t need more, but over time you’ll build up a sleep debt. It probably affects your mental and physical health more than you realize, Alex.”
Thank you, Psychology Today. On newsstands six times a year.
Ray laughs, delighted, but Alex’s gaze intensifies. “Yeah, no, I think I’m good with four hours.”
I smile up at West. “Being well rested is good for your mind and body, isn’t that right?” I wiggle my eyebrows and he stares down at me, fighting a smile.
Jake snorts into his empty glass but at least Charlie is with me. “I’m going to start going to bed earlier,” she says with sweet worship. “I agree we all spend too much time talking about how busy we are and not enough time taking care of ourselves!”
“Do less, but better,” I say, raising my drink to her.
Her jaw drops and she stares at me with worship. “Less, but better! Oh my God, that’s so inspirational!”
“Jesus Christ, this generation,” Ray mumbles, and puts a hand on West’s shoulder, turning him. Ray tilts his head, indicating the rest of the room. “Has the Forbes guy found you yet?”
West frowns, and it’s clear he would rather be at the top of an active volcano than right here. “Not yet, no.”
“Make some time for him this week,” Ray says. “His name’s Ellis. Good guy. I told him I’d give him a little time every day, but let’s be real: that’s top-tier access. Some of that time you all can take for me.”
“On it,” Alex chirps.
But Ray keeps his eyes steadily on West. “Tell him about the company. The growth I created after Pops died. You know.”
West lifts his drink to his lips. He hasn’t agreed to do anything, but I don’t think Ray’s noticed.
“I could have breakfast with him tomorrow,” Alex says, wedging his shoulder between Ray’s and West’s and frowning in a way that looks like his brand of excitement. He consults the calendar on his phone like we aren’t on a private island with all the time in the world. “Around nine?”
“Am I your secretary?” Ray laughs a get-a-load-of-this-guy laugh and hooks a thumb at Alex. “Just take care of it.”
“On it,” Alex says again, furiously typing something into his phone.
Jake pulls his attention away from this and pretends to see someone across the room, wandering off. Charlie and Janet start bickering about some details of the wedding. The family dynamic is so loud, it’s thunderous.
With Alex vying for Ray’s attention, West takes the excuse to pull me aside. “Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s barely been an hour,” I say. “Are you sure that’s okay?”
He nods. “It’s perfect. You met Charlie. You met Alex. My family saw us here. Let’s go.”
We walk to the bar, grabbing cocktails to take back to our bungalow, and then duck out a side exit.
The stone path is smooth under my bare feet as we walk in silence. A look at the water shows the tide coming in, the waves frothy in the moonlight. Phthalo Blue, Cadmium Yellow Light, and a touch of Titanium White, I think, still pondering over the right mix of colors. A little Burnt Umber to capture the way the water moves in the moonlight.
“Charlie is a delight,” I say, and do a quick hopscotch once we hit the sand. “I feel like I’ve had a personality shower.”
“She’s great. A little sheltered…” A pause, and he amends, “A lot sheltered, in fact, but she has a good heart. Charlie is a pure soul living in a very plush bubble.”
West’s tone is flat and detached, incongruous with the gentle words. I glance up at him. His jaw is tight, eyes narrow and focused on the steps ahead of him. “On the other end of the spectrum,” I say, hoping I’m reading him right, “your dad sure is something.”
“Mm-hmm.” The jaw clenches tighter.
I know it’s not fair to compare our fathers. They come from completely different worlds, have led starkly different lives, but all I can think as we walk is David Green would NEVER. “A dad like that casts quite a shadow, I imagine.”
It’s a good five-second pause, but then we both burst out laughing. “I wasn’t making a short joke,” I say, still laughing, “but now that I said it, I mean, it’s odd! I expected him to be tall, too!”
“The height is from my mom’s side. You’ll notice she never wears a heeled shoe.”
“I would say we love a short king, but in your dad’s case, I’m not sure we do.”
West laughs again. “We do not.”
“And what’s the deal with Alex? Based on the way you talked about him on the plane, I expected you two to jovially poke at each other, but that was like dragging a proverbial sword through each other with your eyeballs.”
“It’s always been like that between us.”
“But why?”
“Well, mostly because he’s an asshole. But also, kids growing up in a normal family get to be themselves, whoever that may be. But in families like ours, one where everything basically revolves around keeping a single person happy—my dad—everybody has a role. My therapist used to refer to Alex as a flying monkey.”
I laugh, sure I’ve heard this wrong. “A what?”
“Like in The Wizard of Oz? Alex was my dad’s willing henchman, doing everything he said, kissing his ass, stirring up shit just to turn us all in, then sit back and look like the good guy. He’s never grown out of it.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“And for all of Alex’s ass-kissing, Dad is probably the hardest on him.”
“So if Alex was the ass-kisser growing up, what were you?”
“If you asked Alex, he’d say I was the golden boy.”
“And if I asked you?”
“I’d say I worked hard so I didn’t embarrass my father.”
This sends a tiny spear of pain through my side. “And Jake?”
“As soon as Jake could, he just stayed away from home. I mean, like when he was ten, eleven. Jake was the invisible son. He does whatever he needs to do to fly under the radar. Work for Dad? Sure. Crack a well-timed joke to defuse tension? Sure. Avoid Dad at all social functions so he’s never in the spotlight but also doesn’t risk doing something wrong? That’s Jake. It’s one of the reasons Alex thinks Jake doesn’t deserve his current title. He thinks Jake didn’t put in the time learning from Dad and walking in his shadow, and he’s probably right. But in my opinion Alex spent too much time doing that. Dad wants us to listen to him and do what he says, but the irony is he doesn’t respect a yes-man. To Dad, Alex’s drive looks like desperation instead of ambition.” West runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. “I tell you what, Alex is not going to be happy if he thinks I’m back in the picture.”
“So you’re saying Alex wouldn’t mind if you lost your inheritance.”
He hesitates long enough for me to notice. “I think as long as I don’t get in his way, he’ll leave me alone. The issue is that even if I try to stay out of his way, Dad might drag me back into it.”
“Is Alex smart enough to take you down?”
This question seems to throw him for a beat. “I don’t know. If he was truly smart, he would already know enough to not try.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. If Alex knew enough, he wouldn’t try to take West down? Is this about the mysterious loophole in the trust?
West doesn’t answer for a few long seconds. And I realize he’s not going to. Whatever. Money is so messy.
“This is some serious K-drama shit,” I mumble.
“You’ll get no argument from me. Everything is so much better when we’re not all together, but…” He gestures around us, and I must assume he means he couldn’t exactly miss his sister’s wedding.
“This is so icky. I always saw the Weston commercials and thought it was, like, this sweet family company.”
“I’ll pass your compliments on to Jake’s marketing team,” he says with a laugh.
I like his voice. I like his laugh, too. And my filter is fried after all the hard work tonight; the words tumble out of me: “You have a nice laugh.”
He sobers, glancing at me and then quickly away. “Thanks.”
What a sudden change in his demeanor. I can’t help but call him out on it. “Such a flirt, too.”
“We don’t have to flirt when we’re alone.”
Something flies overhead and I remember the conservation material saying we might see fox bats at night, and to simply leave them alone if we do. I blink up at the sky, hoping to see one. “Maybe if we did, it would feel more convincing that we’re married.”
Frowning, West concedes, “True.”
We reach the entrance to our bungalow, and I follow him inside as he sheds his sport coat. I don’t know how he managed to keep it on. I’m practically naked in this dress and sweating in the humidity.
A glance around the room shows that housekeeping has been here. The bed is turned down, the gauzy curtains drawn. More importantly, the cookie jar has been refilled.
West sits on the bench and pulls a shoe off. I set my clutch down on a shelf in the open closet. “I’m thinking Alex will take a keen interest in exactly how happy we seem.” I narrow my eyes, staring into the distance. “West… this assignment is no longer just ‘show up and wear a wedding ring.’?”
West is still holding the shoe he took off, and he stares down at it in his hand. “I think you’re right. I was hoping it would be enough to show up, but it’s going to take more than that.”
“This is actually kind of fun!” I walk over to him, taking the shoe and then his other one, and setting them near the wall. “I realize incomprehensible sums of money are at stake here, but for me, it’s like a murder mystery party.”
Finally, he blinks out of his trance, looking up at me in silent question.
“You know,” I say, waving my hand forward. “Being suspicious of everyone. Wearing costumes. Getting progressively drunker as the party goes on.” I walk to the bathroom area. “Don’t peek.” I sip my drink. “Or do peek. What do I care?” I peel off the itchy cocktail dress and reach for one of the fluffy bathrobes, muttering, “These robes are the shit.”
“They are really soft,” he agrees.
Bending to wash my face, I say, “You going to be okay sharing a bed?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
I scrub the soap into a lather. “Sure. I basically fall asleep and don’t move an inch all night, so it doesn’t matter to me where you are.”
Patting my face dry, I walk behind the half wall to where our clothes have so helpfully been put away, pull out a pair of very silky, very skimpy pajamas Vivi packed for me, and hold them up. “Fuck me.”
“What?” he asks from the other side.
“I let Vivi shop for this trip and she got me slutty pj’s.”
“You’ll be under the covers,” he says.
“With you,” I say with false misery, and he laughs that low, seductive sound.
“You just assured me you’ll stay on your side of the bed.”
“True. Will you?”
His laugh is confident. “Yes.”
I slip out of the robe and pull on the tiny shorts and tiny tank, and then brush my teeth. It’s only ten, but I’m wiped.
I don’t meet his eyes as I walk to the bed and climb in, and I’m not sure whether I love or hate that he doesn’t seem to look at me at all as he gets up to go get ready for bed. A handful of minutes later, West shuts off the lights, climbing in beside me.
My brain screams: WHAT IS HE WEARING?
Clearing my throat, I say, “No hands or feet or boners on my side, sir.”
Another laugh. I really like that sound. “If my boner could reach that side, I think you’d be intrigued.”
I ponder this. “I would be. You’re right.”
The thing is… half of his family sucks, but this, right here, isn’t all bad. I like hanging out with West Weston.
The ocean stretches outside, the waves falling back before rushing forward again. The calming reflection of water dances along the ceiling. I listen to him breathe along with the waves. A person could get used to this, I think, my eyes growing heavy.
“Good night, Anna.”
“Night, West.”
He sighs. “Liam.”
I roll over, laughing. “Night, Liam.”