Chapter 30
ZACH
Thirty feels like a beginning.
My life feels like everything is starting to line up perfectly, like a trail of dominoes. Am I waiting for something to break and set the chain of destruction off?
No. I tell myself that everything is good, that the stars have aligned just for me and Maya and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Stella is turning a corner. We’re having some small early wins, numbers moving in the right direction, momentum I can feel building.
Music plays across the deck, and the city glitters before us like it was made just for us, for tonight.
With Maya by my side, I feel invincible, like I can conquer anything and everything.
My hand skims the small of her back. I introduce her to everyone and I’m immensely proud and happy to have her on my arm.
She’s not a trust fund babe. She’s not a connection I need just to have a good time.
She and I have history. Maya comes from my past; she knew me when I was sad and lonely. She was there for me, and she was my friend and anchor.
And now?
She’s not a secret or an afterthought.
She’s mine.
Time slips by in a blur of introductions. She’s surprisingly confident and friendly, taking it all in her stride as she easily makes conversations with people.
With my father away, everyone is more relaxed. Even Jett. I was surprised by the way he greeted Maya. Warmer than I thought he’d be. Not because he’s a snob or anything, just that Jett is more restrained and guarded than me or Dex.
We’ve eaten, the champagne is still flowing, and Maya and I wander around, often slipping away to some discreet corner to be alone, but people keep finding us and we end up back on the deck again.
I love watching her. She’s so easy with Dani, and they laugh softly. Raquel joins them, sharp-eyed, like a hawk, never missing a thing. That’s the lawyer in her. She assesses, with a smile. There isn’t an ounce of maliciousness between these women.
Cari drifts over to join them, with Brooke, who easily claims Maya’s attention, pointing to her earrings.
Maya instantly bends down giving Brooke a better look, and my cute niece touches an earring, her eyes filled with curiosity.
I chuckle when I see her tattered toy elephant dangling from her other hand.
That sweet child still takes it with her everywhere.
Watching Maya with Brooke, listening to her like nothing else exists, does something dangerous to my chest. A crazy thought runs through my mind.
A thought I’ve never had before, and I catch myself wondering what it would be like to have a child of my own. Mine and Maya’s.
Crazy. Crazy. Crazy thought.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
I tell myself to relax, and enjoy this evening. Take everything in its stride. As if grounding me to reality, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I check it distractedly.
Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make it, but hope you have a good day.
Dad remembered?
A mix of relief and disappointment surges through me. Typical Dad. Always hovering on the edges. Always half present. He didn’t even make it to Brooke’s last birthday party, so who am I to expect him to come to mine?
I slip my phone away and turn my thoughts back to the night. The music turns louder, and the beat speeds up. There’s a ripple of excitement as a familiar tune spills across the deck. Maya comes back to me and I slide my arm protectively around her waist. I love the way she leans closer.
This feels easy, and right. Just perfect.
People start dancing. Dani, Raquel, and Cari pull Maya from my side, and she goes without any hesitation. I like that they include her, and that she seems at ease with them when she barely knows them.
Jett appears and watches the women dancing. “She’s fit right in,” he remarks. I don’t know what to make of that, but my muscles tense anyway, instinctively bracing.
“She’s the reason behind the Stella stake?” he asks mildly.
Hell. Why’s he even going there? The last thing I want to do tonight is talk business. “She’s not the reason. Not the main one,” I shoot back, careful to keep my voice even. “Stella needed help, and I knew I could make a difference.”
Jett nods slowly. “That’s not what I heard.”
I glance at him, wary.
“We were talking over a business dinner last week,” he continues. “Someone mentioned the operational reset you pushed through. Cost controls. Supply renegotiations. Early signs are good.” He finally looks at me. “You did what you said you would.”
I blink, caught off guard. Praise from Jett is rare enough that it lands harder than criticism ever does. Maybe—just maybe—my older brother isn’t here to make my life difficult tonight after all.
Dex approaches, rubbing his hands together mischievously. “You ready for the cake, brother?”
Fear lances through me because I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. I pray he’s not uncouth enough to do something stupid like hire a stripper to jump out of the birthday cake. I wouldn’t put it past him.
“I don’t want any tricks,” I caution, because I know what a trickster he can be at times.
“Tricks? No tricks, I promise.”
I believe him. Cake, now? Why not? “Sure, go ahead.” The music lowers, and the women all come back.
“What’s going on?” Maya asks. I reach for her hand, and intertwine our fingers together. “We’re about to cut the cake, apparently.”
“Exciting!”
Dex waves to the crew who are standing by.
They disappear, before coming out again, pushing one of the biggest cakes I’ve ever seen.
Holy shit. It’s five tiers. A towering white creation that looks more like architectural model than something that’s about to get sliced and eaten.
A circle of candles on the topmost tier flickers in the breeze.
“That’s humongous!” I cry, in shock.
“Wow!” Maya gasps.
Brooke squeals. “Is that Lego?”
It is too damn big, and too damn ostentatious. I turn to Dex. “Who are you feeding? A thousand people?”
“Relax, bro.” Dex slaps a hand on my shoulder.
“There aren’t a thousand people here,” Rio remarks casually.
“Why not go out with a splash?” Enzo appears suddenly.
“He’s not dying,” Matteo retorts.
Guests gather around us, glasses raised. Phones come out, tiny lights blinking as people start filming. I feel serenely happy. Holding hands with Maya while my brothers and their girlfriends flank me. For a moment, I feel so ridiculously blessed.
The cake hasn’t been cut yet—it’s too big for that.
This is the ceremonial moment. Candles first. Photos.
Applause. The actual slicing will come later, down below, handled by the crew.
Someone starts singing. Then everyone joins in, voices growing louder, slightly off-key, the familiar chant rolling across the deck.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear—”
The energy changes. It’s subtle at first. A ripple. A hesitation. Words trail away slowly, and voices drop out one by one. The singing falters, before stopping altogether.
What’s going on?
No one is looking at me anymore. Or at the cake. Their attention has swung toward the gangway, heads turning in unison. I follow their gaze just as the crowd parts and someone steps aboard. I turn to see what they’re staring at and then I see him.
My father.
Time crawls. Everything moves in slow motion. I feel like I’m sinking to the bottom of the ocean. This can’t be real, but Dad keeps walking towards me, impeccably dressed, with his expression as smooth and as unreadable as ever. Conversation stops completely. The music cuts off.
Dex swears under his breath.
Rio laughs, incredulous. “I don’t fucking believe it.”
Raquel hisses at him to be quiet.
“You said he was abroad,” Jett says, his tone accusatory.
I thought he was abroad, too. Maya’s hand in mine stiffens. She gasps loudly, and then her hand goes slack in mine.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” someone says, maybe Matteo. “How the hell did this happen?”
Enzo turns to face me. “Are you okay? Did you know?”
I shake my head. “Had no fucking idea.”
Even the crowd can feel it. I snap out of it and straighten instinctively, trying to recapture the moment. I recompose myself quickly, because it’s so obvious that the mood has turned sour. I don’t want my father to feel bad for making the effort to come to my party.
This isn’t too bad, I tell myself. But it feels like a lie. The truth is, my father has killed everything—the atmosphere, the buzz, the excitement. Every feel-good emotion that was floating around the balmy summer air has vanished.
His presence chills the night like a wave of subzero cold. I feel torn, like I always did as a child. Stuck between my brothers and my father. Where does my loyalty lie? Where does my honesty go? He’s ill, and he made an effort to come tonight. I should feel happy.
I should.
“Hey, Dad.” I step forward. Maya lets go of my hand.
“Happy birthday,” he says.
No hug. No warmth. Just a cold, clipped handshake. Like we’re signing another business deal. Like we’re in a boardroom, and not at my fucking birthday party with guests watching.
“Glad you made it.”
“Couldn’t stay away,” he says. “Thought I should be here.”
I force a smile. Maya stands behind me, quiet as a mouse.
So very still that I toss a glance at her over my shoulder.
I’m puzzled by the sudden tension in her posture and by the tightness in her expression.
And how she’s moved away to be behind me.
Cari’s eyes flick to Maya, then to my father.
Her brow creases, like she’s noticed something I haven’t.
“Can we have a glass of champagne?” I summon a server, needing to break the sullen mood.
Brooke hugs her elephant tighter, sinking back against Jett’s legs.
I glance at Maya again but she feels so far away.
Too far away for me to say anything. I want to tell her it’s fine.
I want to whisper in her ear that he won’t stay long, but she’s not with me.
She’s looking away like she wants to disappear into the darkness.
I turn back to Dad, determined to keep things smooth.
Should I introduce him to Maya?
A strange unease coils in my gut and tells me, ‘no.’ The way she looks right now, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. The air feels thicker, and something unseen lurks in the shadows.
“Well.” Dad raises his glass and addresses the guests. “How about we sing properly this time?”
That’s the right cue because people start singing again. Louder. With forced enthusiasm. My brothers, too, join in and sing with renewed vigor. I instinctively reach for Maya’s hand, but she’s clasped hers together, in front of her, and I can’t get to hold her hand. She’s moved away from the table.
I gesture for her to come back to me, but she shakes her head, and suddenly my thirtieth birthday feels like an ending.