Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Weston
I hated public speaking, which was ironic since I spent my days presenting to investors, negotiating deals, and leading board meetings.
But having to give a speech on the fifty-yard line at a public high school with the stands packed with people was different.
It wasn’t about business. It was personal.
I stood in the background while the school principal introduced me.
Walking out onto the field, I waved and plastered on the smile I’d perfected over the years.
The one that convinced everyone I had everything under control.
Applause erupted from the stands as I stood in front of the microphone.
That’s when I saw her standing in the front row of the stands with her arms crossed.
Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she wore a navy blue Manhattan Heights sweatshirt and jeans.
She looked as beautiful as ever, which made my heart ache even more.
The look on her face told me she didn’t want me here.
That was fair. I wouldn’t want me here either if I were her.
I cleared my throat as I pulled the microphone from its stand.
“Good evening, everyone.” The crowd cheered, which made me uncomfortable.
I was a man who didn’t deserve to be cheered.
I began to give the speech Kylie wrote. I talked about opportunity.
The community and investing in the future.
I talked about the importance of education.
And when I talked about the value of excellent teachers, my eyes diverted back to Sam, who, instead of listening, was talking to Greta, who stood next to her. That’s when I veered off course.
“Looking back, I’ve realized success isn’t measured by what you build or how much money you make.
” I glanced at Kylie, who stood on the sidelines, with a horrified look on her face.
I swore I could see her eye twitching. “Success is measured by the people who challenge you to be better. By the people who remind you that accomplishments don’t mean much if you have no one to share them with.
So tonight, I’m honored to announce that Castile Properties will fully fund a brand new art center and technology center.
In addition, Castile Properties will also fund the Manhattan Heights sports programs for as long as the school is still standing. ”
The crowd cheered. Kylie’s jaw dropped. And the principal’s eyes widened.
The marching band started to play, and the principal walked over and shook my hand.
Cameras flashed as our picture was taken.
I looked back at the stands, and Sam was gone.
For the first time, closing a multi-million-dollar deal didn’t feel like winning. It felt like losing.
I walked off the field, and Kylie chased after me.
“What did you do?” she spat. “And why?”
“The school needs funds. Castile Properties can provide those funds.”
“But a new art and technology center? That was never even discussed, Wes.”
“It will be now. We’re going to rebuild Manhattan Heights, and you’re going to like it,” I smirked.
I walked around and looked for Sam. I couldn’t find her anywhere. The press stopped me and asked some questions about the school. I answered them and prayed they didn’t ask about Sam, which they didn’t. Finn found me and clasped my shoulder.
“I can’t believe what you did out there,” he said. “Your grandmother is going to kill you.”
“Let her. I don’t care. I’m doing what’s right. We spend our days taking things away from people. We make deals that benefit us and us only. It’s time Castile Properties gave back to the community.”
He stared at me with furrowed brows. “This has to do with Sam, doesn’t it?”
“Actually, it does. She opened my eyes to things I’d never have seen if it weren’t for her.”
When I arrived home, I poured a scotch and took it out to the terrace.
If I hadn’t been such a dick, Sam would be here with me, celebrating.
But she wasn’t, and I had no one to blame but myself.
After finishing my drink, I headed upstairs and went into the bathroom.
Opening one of the drawers to grab my toothbrush, I picked up the one Sam had left here and held it in my hand.
Gripping the marble sink, I stared at myself in the mirror.
I was tired. Tired of hurting and feeling the constant ache of loneliness that resided inside me.
I thought back to when my parents were alive.
The smiles they gave each other. The kisses they shared when they thought I wasn’t looking.
The dances they’d share in the living room to my father’s favorite song.
The flowers that my father would have delivered to the house while he was at the office because he missed her.
It was a winter evening. The snow was falling heavily outside, and the temperatures had plummeted.
My parents had already tucked me into bed, but I was thirsty.
I went downstairs and saw my mother in the kitchen making hot chocolate.
My father walked up from behind, wrapped his arm around her, and pressed his lips against the side of her neck.
She laughed, turned, and their lips met.
I stood in the doorway. My father turned and saw me.
“Can’t sleep, buddy?” he asked.
I shook my head, and he extended his hand. “Come here.”
I walked over to him, and he lifted me onto the counter while my mother handed me a mug of hot chocolate with tiny white marshmallows on top.
“You’re making him soft.” My father smiled at my mother.
“No. I’m teaching him what love looks like.” She smiled. “And I want our son to be as happy as we are when he grows up and finds someone special.”
Then suddenly, I was standing in the foyer saying goodbye to them the day of the crash. My mother hugged me tightly.
“We’ll be back before you know it, my sweet boy.” She kissed the top of my head.
“I’ll make sure to bring you back something special from our trip.” My father smiled as he gripped my shoulder.
“Like what?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet. But you’ll love it.” He smiled.
He turned to my mother and kissed her forehead. “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?”
“I am.”
He gripped her hand as they walked out of the house and held it all the way to the car, only letting go when he opened the car door for her.
My eyes flew open as my heart raced, and realization set in. I was my father’s son. Deep down, buried beneath the rubble my grandfather left behind. Beneath all the fear and beneath the pain of losing my parents.