Chapter One
Weston
Present
I sat next to Mom in Uncle Edmond’s office with two empty chairs on the other side of me. I assumed the seats were for Claude Junior and Claudia. Dad’s funeral had been the previous week, and Mom had been a wreck since.
A few days ago, Dad’s first wife and my mother sat on opposite sides of the open grave because we couldn’t be sure one wouldn’t push the other into the hole before the coffin was lowered inside.
The death glares between them would have killed mere mortals, but I supposed with their history, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.
My father had cheated on wife number one with wife number two, or rather, “his gold-digging whore,” as wife number one called my mother at the funeral. There was no lost love between Dad’s two families.
Restless. I was getting restless. It was at least thirty minutes since we had arrived at Edmond’s office. “I guess we’re waiting for CJ and Claudia?”
Uncle Edmond nodded as he stapled papers together. We’d been called in for the reading of Dad’s will that would divide his assets among his two families. I just wanted the whole mess to be over.
After a short and intense illness, Dad had died in his sleep at sixty-eight. Mom was gutted at the loss. I did my best to be strong for her, but I wasn’t sure I was as supportive as Dad would have wanted me to be.
Early on, when I came out, my father supported me, even during my wildly rebellious years. I couldn’t say he didn’t support me anymore, but it was different after grad school. The guilt I pushed down would eat me alive one day. Part of me hoped it was soon.
My father didn’t always show his affection—and his reaction to my outrageous behavior sometimes came across as utter hatred—but Dad had pushed me to be a better man than him. I hoped I’d live up to his expectations someday, though I wasn’t always sure what they might be.
After the funeral, I’d had a brief conversation with Claudia before her husband insisted she round up their three brats so they could go home. Claude Junior—CJ—didn’t speak to me at all. I was fine with that.
Uncle Edmond’s phone buzzed on his desk, and he picked it up instead of putting it on speaker. “Yes, Jean. Oh, uh, that’s okay. Send them in. Thank you.”
Edmond glanced at Mom. “CJ and Claudia have arrived. I’ll warn you both,” he looked between Mom and me. “They’ve brought Elise with them.”
Mom stiffened, and I took her hand. “It’ll be fine.”
Elise Aames was my father’s ex-wife and from everything I’d learned about her, she was an evil viper. During his marriage to Elise, Dad had an affair with my mother—she worked for him at Aames Investments—and he was that boss. He fell in love with his assistant.
When Mom got pregnant with me, Dad divorced Elise to marry Mom because he refused to have a child out of wedlock. What a fucking cliché we all were.
Dad must have paid Elise a hefty sum to get out of the marriage in record time before he and Mom flew to Vegas to get married six weeks before I was born. With a backstory like mine, how could I be anything less than a fuck up?
The door flew open and banged against the spring stopper, which made Uncle Edmond grit his teeth. Elise Aames waltzed in as if she were the Queen of Manhattan with CJ and Claudia following behind her, their noses in the air as though they were her royal heirs.
“Elise, I’m not sure why you’re here. You’re not a party to the reading of Claude’s will, though you are mentioned once, and it’s not for any pertinent reason. You got as much as you’ll ever get from Claude when the two of you divorced.”
My mother stiffened next to me. Regardless of how she landed Dad, she wasn’t a typical trophy wife. She was kind and loving to a fault, which made her a target for every charity with a mailing list, thanks to Elise.
“I’m here to ensure my children don’t get cheated out of their rightful inheritance. These two gutter rats shouldn’t receive one red cent from Claude’s estate. They,” Elise pointed to Mom and me, “are a stain on the Aames family name.”
I’d been called a lot of names over the years, but a stain was new. “You can go square to—”
Mom clamped down on my arm. “Don’t dignify her comment by getting in the gutter with her. Your father’s memory deserves better.”
Mom wasn’t wrong. God knew I’d done enough to embarrass him over the years.
After my last run-in with the law during grad school in Albany, my driver’s license had been permanently revoked in New York.
Since returning to Manhattan, I’d been pedaling all over the city on my trusty bike, which suited me better anyway.
Parking in Manhattan was a pain in the ass I didn’t need.
“We’re just waiting for one more person.” Uncle Edmond glanced at each of us, stopping at Elise and pointing. “Elise, if you say one cross word during the reading of Claude’s will, I’ll have security escort you out.” Uncle Edmond was a real hard ass, and I loved it.
CJ, Claudia, and Elise all perked up. “Who? Who’s coming? Don’t tell me Claude was cheating on Miss Prim-and-Proper over there. Did he father another bastard child?”
Uncle Edmond rolled his eyes just as the phone buzzed. He picked up the receiver. “Yes, Jean. Send him in. Thank you.”
The door opened, and I caught my breath at the sight. The son of Dad’s best friend strolled into the office in all of his laid-back glory. “Bridges!” Elise gasped.
My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Bridges Eaton was the son of Daryl Eaton, the chief financial officer and a board member of Aames Investments. Daryl and Dad went to college together, and Daryl helped Dad start the investment firm. The two of them grew the firm together.
Years ago, Dad made a personal investment in Bridges’ custom bike venture, and Dad told me he’d received a hell of a return on his investment.
Bridges built custom bicycles for oodles of biking enthusiasts, including Tour de France competitors and Iron Man participants around the world.
Hell, he made the ten speed I still rode today.
Bridges looked amazing in a pair of flat-front khaki pants and a navy sweater. The man pulled off the sexy salt-and-pepper look like a model. I’d had a crush on Bridges since I was twelve.
“Hey, everyone. I’m sorry I missed the memorial. I was in Abu Dhabi for... It doesn’t matter why. I’m sorry I missed it. I spoke to Claude before I left, and he told me goodbye.” Bridges choked up and stopped speaking.
The guy was pure class, making his way around the room, hugging each of us and offering his whispered condolences to everyone, including me. “I’m sorry for your loss, Weston. Your father meant the world to me. I hope you’ll reach out if there’s anything I can do for you.” It was very sweet.
Of course, Elise couldn’t keep her pie hole shut. “Where’s Scott?”
Scott, the husband. Of course, she had to bring up that asshole.
Elise had known Bridges longer than Mom and me, so of course she knew his husband. That man was a lucky motherfucker. He was an uppity prick, but he was lucky to have won Bridges’ heart when he did.
“Oh, Elise, I guess you haven’t heard. Scott and I divorced a year ago. We kept things civil until the house sold, but it turned out we had different goals for the future. I wanted to expand Eaton Cycles and Scott wanted to expand his sexual encounters to include a tailor and a flight steward.”
I covered my mouth, wanting to laugh so hysterically that my chest hurt from holding it in. Elise’s fake charm morphed into anger that she wasn’t the first person to know about Bridges’ divorce. She prided herself on knowing all the gossip, all the time.
Mom stood and walked over to him. “I’m so glad you’re here, Bridges.
We understand why you couldn’t attend the service, but I appreciate the flowers you sent to the house.
Thank you for coming. Claude told me about your divorce, and I’m so sorry.
I should have had you over to the house for dinner, but that was around the time when Claude was diagnosed. How are you doing, dear?”
My father died from an aggressive form of cancer that had metastasized into his bones, lungs, and brain. He tried to be strong for as long as he could, but he was diagnosed in January and died in early May. It was a difficult time for Mom and me.
“I’ve stayed busy with work. I’ve taken on another engineer I met when I was at Penn State for grad school.
She’s going to be a big help with designing bikes and expanding the website.
Her name is Alexis Costa. She’s a stickler for details and has helped streamline my creative process.
With her assistance, I’ve been able to take on twice as many clients, which is fantastic, but we need an administrator to take care of the crap we’re not good at handling.
We’re the creatives, not the process gurus. ”
Bridges turned to Uncle Ed. “Hi, Edmond. You didn’t mention why you needed me here. What can I do?”
Uncle Ed glanced toward me and grinned. “Do you mind letting Bridges have your seat? You can sit on the windowsill.” He pointed to the large window that offered a view of Times Square.
Bridges protested. “That’s not necessary, Edmond. I can stand.” Bridges winked at me, and my heart raced in my chest. If my mother hadn’t been sitting there, I might have come a little.
Uncle Ed sighed. “Okay, everyone. Let’s get started.
Uh, Bridges, Claude named you as the executor of his Last Will and Testament.
He’s allotted a stipend for you because he wanted you to know he respected that your time was as important as his.
None of the assets named in the will can be distributed for one year except the East Hampton house.
Everything else stays in trust for a year until the fate of Aames Investments is decided. ”