Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
JACKSON
“What’s the price of happiness?” Aaron asks as we line up at The Daily Brew for our morning coffee.
My brows furrow. “What?”
“If you think about it, happiness is priceless, right?”
“Yeah …” I’m not sure where he’s going with this.
A grin spreads across Aaron’s lips. “So, which is worth more, Mr. CEO? The happiness you gained after dating Isabelle or the hundred bucks you still owe me?”
I sigh as we move farther up the line. He’s never going to let this go now that Isabelle and I are together. “It was always a one-sided bet.”
“Do you know how much blood, sweat, and tears went into being the fairy godfather for you and Isabelle?” Aaron shakes his head, looking like he’s been betrayed. “Jeez. I should at least get some compensation for my efforts.”
We reach the counter, and Isabelle’s standing behind it. On some days, I’ll still stop by The Daily Brew for coffee so I get to see her during the day.
Like today, on our one-month anniversary.
I’ve planned a dinner date for tonight at a Japanese restaurant in Midtown Manhattan and then a surprise trip to Disneyland Resort for next week. Isabelle’s been working so hard on her business and upcoming fashion show, and I’m hoping it’ll be a fun little getaway before the final push.
“What’s this about?” Isabelle asks, her gaze darting between me and Aaron.
“Jackson still owes me a hundred bucks from school,” Aaron says. “So, thank you Isabelle for making Jackson no longer single.”
Isabelle laughs. “Well, someone has to keep his big ego in check, right?”
Aaron cackles. “Exactly.”
“It’s a fair trade,” I chime in. “Isabelle needed someone to make sure she stops being late to everything.”
Isabelle rolls her eyes playfully. “Touché.”
After ordering and grabbing our coffees, Aaron and I head back to Carter Marketing Solutions. Settling in my office, I bury my head in work for the next few hours.
Lunchtime rolls around, and Aaron pops his head around my door. “Wanna grab lunch together?”
“Can’t, sorry.” I gesture to the large pile of paperwork in front of me. “I have to finish going through these.”
“You sure? I was thinking we could get a chopped cheese sandwich from that bodega we went to last week again.” Aaron groans. “I’m already salivating just thinking about it.”
“Maybe next time. These papers aren’t giving me a break, unfortunately.”
Aaron cocks a brow. “You know you’re supposed to delegate, right? Not do everything yourself.”
I shrug. “It’s urgent, and I don’t want to overload the team. Everyone’s got enough on their plate already.”
Grabbing a highlighter, I flip through the first few pages of a marketing campaign I’m reviewing and making changes to. When I glance up, Aaron’s still standing at the door, a frown perched on his face as he studies me.
“Do I have something on my face?” I ask.
“No, but you look a little miserable. No offense.”
“I’m not miserable,” I say. “It’s just the stress of work.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you to it then.” Aaron doesn’t look or sound convinced, but he leaves.
I finish going through the rest of the marketing campaign and then go through my notes for an upcoming client call.
The phone in my office rings.
“Mr. Carter, your mother is here,” Clarissa says when I pick up. “Should I buzz her up?”
I check the time on my computer. Mom’s fifteen minutes early, which is no surprise—she’s generally early to everything.
“Yes, please. Let her know she’s welcome to wait in the guest lounge. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes once I finish my client call.”
“Will do.”
Just as we hang up, a new email pops up in my inbox.
Jackson,
Apologies for the late notice, but I’ve had something urgent come up. Could we shift our call to later this afternoon, perhaps around two p.m.?
Regards,
Peter Williams
Managing Director | Williams Industries
I shoot Peter a reply to let him know I’m happy to move our meeting to two p.m., and then I get up from my desk, heading for the door. At least now I won’t have to keep Mom waiting.
When I head to the guest lounge, Mom isn’t there.
I walk up to the receptionist desk, where Clarissa’s located. “Clarissa, do you know where my mom went?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not sure, sorry. I had to go to the printer, and when I came back, she was gone.”
“No problem.”
Mom probably just went to use the bathroom or something. I can grab the box of doughnuts Clarissa left in the kitchen in the meantime. I bet Mom would love them.
I head to the kitchen, grabbing the doughnuts, and then make my way back down the hallway, bypassing the open-plan desk space and several individual office rooms. Most people haven’t come back from lunch yet, so the floor’s quieter than usual.
“Jackson deserves to know the truth, Suzanne. It’s what Eric would’ve wanted.”
I freeze and stop in my tracks at Andrew’s sharp voice, eyeing the closed door to his office. I can’t make out much through the tinted windows, but it’s clear Mom’s in there.
Know what? What truth?
“You agreed not to tell him, Andrew.” The pleading tone in Mom’s voice hits me square in the chest. The only other time I’ve heard her sound like this was when I inadvertently overheard her in an argument with Dad when they were having marriage issues.
“That was before I got to see the amazing young man he’s grown to be.” Andrew’s voice is strained. “I can’t keep this up. I can’t.”
“We shouldn’t be talking about this here.” Frustration coils around Mom’s tone, thick and heavy.
My pulse starts accelerating so fast that I think my heart might leap right out of my chest, and I feel my body temperature abruptly drop, like an anchor sinking to the depths of the ocean.
What the hell are they talking about? What don’t they want me to know?
“Suzanne—”
“I don’t want him to hate me. I already lost Eric. I can’t lose him as well.”
“It’s not just your call!” Andrew snaps. “He’s my son, too.”
The box of doughnuts I’m holding drops to the floor with a thud, its contents spilling out.
A loud ringing torments my ears, and the room spins around me, slowly sucking me into a whirlpool of nausea. My hands shaking, I grip on to the nearest wall for support, my breaths shallow and uneven. I think I’m going to throw up.
No.
This can’t be happening.
I must’ve heard wrong. This has to be some kind of sick, twisted joke.
Maybe Mom’s planning to switch careers from accounting to acting, and she was practicing her craft with Andrew just then.
Or maybe Andrew’s the one wanting to get into acting.
Either it’s that or I’m in some kind of horrible nightmare.
Andrew’s office door swings open, and I come face-to-face with Mom, her face as pale as a sheet. Andrew trails behind her, his eyes wide.
“Oh my God, Jackson,” she breathes. “I … I thought you were in a meeting.”
“Mom, you’re joking, right?” My ears are still pounding. “Please tell me you are.”
Silence.
Mom lets out a sob, and I stare at her, feeling as though the air in my lungs has been completely sucked out.
“You cheated on Dad?” I hear myself say.
A teardrop trickles down my mother’s cheek.
She’s not denying it.
I don’t recognize her anymore. The woman who used to make my lunch every day for school when I was a kid, who used to throw me birthday parties, who was kind and caring, and who poured so much love into my upbringing.
Just a few days ago, we were having dinner together. Laughing and chatting together as a happy family.
Lies. All lies.
It turns out she’s been putting on a mask the whole time. A facade.
“How could you do that to Dad?” I ask, my voice breaking.
My suit’s too tight, like it’s about to suffocate me. I feel like the walls are slowly closing in on me, and the ground’s going to swallow me up at any second now. Even breathing hurts.
I take a step back and face Andrew. “How could you betray my dad like that? He was one of your closest friends.”
Andrew’s face sags, his shoulders slumping.
And then it hits me—the endless arguing between my parents before they got divorced, the hurt look I saw on Dad’s face so many times.
“Did he know?” I croak out, facing Mom again.
She glances down at the floor.
They say that silence speaks louder than words. I never believed it until now.
Mom sniffles. “Your dad sent you away to London because he didn’t want you to find out about the affair. Not when it was a crucial time in your schooling and when you would be preparing for college applications soon.”
I resented Dad for sending me away when he only wanted to protect me. When he was the one hurting the most.
Fuck. I was a terrible son.
Bile burns at the back of my throat. “What about Lucy?” My gaze darts desperately between Mom and Andrew.
Does Lucy know about this? Are we only half-siblings?
Mom shakes her head. “No, she doesn’t.” She swallows. “And she’s not from …” Her eyes close. “The affair …”
Her voice is distant, muffled, like she’s above the ocean while I’m drowning and underwater, brutal tidal waves pulling me deeper and deeper until there’s only darkness surrounding me. Nothingness.
Maybe I am drowning.
“I have to go,” I say, the words sounding forced.
And then I turn to leave. Start heading down the hallway because there’s nothing else to say.
“Jackson, wait!” Mom cries.
She reaches for my arm, but I shake off her grip.
“Please don’t touch me.”
Ignoring the pain filling her eyes, I keep walking ahead, hearing Andrew’s voice from behind. “Give him some time, Suzanne.”
As I head for the exit, my team members—people who’ve now come back from lunch—stare at me, wide-eyed. They probably overheard everything, and now everyone knows.
My head pounding, I brush past everyone, taking the elevator down to the lobby and heading outside the office building.
I trudge along the sidewalk, weaving my way through the hustle and bustle of the Flatiron District, directionless and lifeless, like a zombie, as Mom and Andrew’s conversation replays in my head, a broken record.
“He’s my son, too.”
Even when I bypass my favorite halal cart, the usually tempting scents of aromatic spices and sizzling meat smell like nothing.