Chapter 15
HARRISON
Atext buzzed in. Even though it was early, I was already awake.
In fact, I’d hardly slept. How could I, when that kiss kept replaying over and over in my brain like a movie?
I’d been forced to take care of myself in the shower before bed, which should’ve been enough to clear my head and put me to sleep.
But no, my head refused to clear. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was Gwen.
I leaned over to grab my phone off the nightstand.
Wait. My father was texting me?
I sat up. Dad was old-fashioned. For anything business related, he preferred email. Texting was only for personal things, which meant he hardly ever texted me unless something was wrong.
The words swam in front of my eyes. He was in New York and wanted to hitch a ride home with me?
Rather than text him back, I opted to call. He picked up before I even heard a ring.
“Hey, son,” he answered.
Son. He only called me that when he wanted something.
“Good morning. Why are you in New York?”
No need for pleasantries.
“Oh, this and that,” he said vaguely. “Meetings. You know how it goes.”
I did, which was why I had a flight lined up to take me home. What I couldn’t figure out was why he didn’t.
“Would it be okay if I deadheaded?”
He loved using aviation industry terms on me, like he knew my business better than me, although this one didn’t quite apply to the scenario seeing as he wasn’t crew hitching a ride on a commercial flight.
I sighed. “Yeah, if you can get to the airport by nine.”
“Sure, no problem. I’m already up and at ‘em, and I assume you are as well. You’ve always been an early riser.”
I frowned at my reflection in the mirror across the room.
Why was he being so chitchatty? He’d spent his whole life working in the hospitality industry, and he could gladhand with the best of them, but he rarely brought that behavior home.
I couldn’t remember the last time my dad had bothered to make small talk with me.
Something was up.
“My, uh…” I struggled to find the right words to describe Gwen. “My new PR expert will be with us. Not sure if that matters to you.”
“Fine, fine, no problem. I assumed you’d have a flock of people traveling with you, seeing as you had that big appearance last night. Great job, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I said, shocked that he’d watched. But then, maybe he’d been concerned about the effect it could have on the stock price. “I need to run, but we’ll meet you at the hangar. We’re on a tight schedule today, so don’t be late.”
My dad was never late, but I couldn’t resist.
“Of course. See you soon.”
I disconnected the call and tried to process just how awkward the flight was going to be.
In addition to the standard-level awkwardness I was used to from every interaction with my dad—especially for hours at a stretch, in a pressurized tube where we couldn’t just avoid each other—there was the added Gwen factor.
And the Gwen’s kiss factor. I’d figured we’d spend the trip sorting out how to navigate what that kiss would impact in our working relationship. But there was no way we could have that talk in front of my dad. He didn’t belong in the same zip code as a conversation about feelings.
Oliver Ashford wasn’t a harsh man—not to me or to anyone else. In my whole life, I was pretty sure I’d never seen him be deliberately unkind to anyone. He was just…very self-contained, and intensely private about his emotions.
Maybe he’d been able to be more open with Mom, but if so, they’d kept that kind of thing behind closed doors. It honestly would have been just as weird to me to walk in on my parents having a heartfelt talk as it would have been to walk in on them having sex.
So yeah, whatever was going on between Gwen and me, we’d have to sort it out after we got back to LA. Nothing was going to get resolved during this flight.
As planned, I met Gwen in the lobby. She looked typically breathtaking even though she was dressed for travel in a blazer, jeans, and flat shoes.
I scanned her as I walked across the lobby toward her, trying to imagine what my father would think of her. He’d rarely warmed to the people I spent time with, whether it was colleagues, friends, or girlfriends.
My father constantly warned my brothers and me about our family’s “edge,” which was his code for our immense wealth. He said it set us apart and made us targets for people looking to profit from their relationship to us.
Kevin was maybe the first of my friends he’d truly accepted. He never liked Miranda, but then again, he’d been busy taking care of my mom as she and I were getting together. I’m sure his grief colored how he saw the rest of the world.
I know it had for me as well.
“Good morning,” Gwen said to me, all business. She turned to point outside. “Great weather today. Not a cloud in the sky.”
Ah, so that’s where we were now. Small talk about weather.
“Perfect flying weather,” I agreed. “And good on you for not jinxing us, I suppose. You haven’t picked up any aviation superstitions working with me, have you?”
“Superstitions? What are you talking about?”
“Rule one of private aviation: never, ever discuss future weather conditions. Current skies? Fair game. But the second you start getting cocky about the forecast…” I shrugged.
“Let me guess…wisdom from personal experience?”
“I don’t do superstition, but you learn to respect the aircraft gods,” I replied. “Also…there’s been a change in our plans, though. My father is hitching a ride back with us.”
“Oh, wow,” she said. She frowned at me. “Is everything okay?”
I shrugged. “I guess? He didn’t go into detail about why he was here—or why he didn’t have his own flight already arranged. Anyway, let’s head out.”
We spent the drive to the airport rehashing the concert and checking social media posts about it to see if there’d been any mention about me being there.
Thankfully, the coverage about me was a footnote, and the comments were pretty universally positive, which meant that the storm had finally passed.
All thanks to the woman sitting beside me.
We were the first to arrive, and I was tempted to take advantage of our last moments alone to try to make sense of what had happened in the hallway the night before. But Gwen dropped into her seat and immediately opened her laptop. I did the same, even though I was having trouble focusing.
I heard Dominic greeting my father just outside the plane.
“Incoming,” I sighed.
“Good morning, fellow travelers,” Dad announced as he stepped in. He walked to Gwen with his hand outstretched. “I’m Oliver Ashford.”
She stood up. “Gwen Ackland. Wonderful to meet you!”
I took the opportunity to study him as they small talked. My father was still handsome as ever, with his cropped white hair and perfect posture, but he looked thin—and not in a healthy way. Maybe I was overreacting? There was a chance he’d talked his chef into a new calorie-restricting meal plan.
Dad thought he’d live forever if he could control every aspect of his life.
His workouts, vitamins, sleep patterns, and diet were all calibrated to keep him in peak form.
Losing my mom had jump-started a new focus on his health, and while he’d given up smoking years before, he’d only recently managed to kick his Cuban cigar habit.
Still, I didn’t love how pale he looked.
“There he is,” my dad said when he finally managed to stop chatting with Gwen. “Good to see you, son.”
I stood up and reached out my hand, our standard greeting in public, but he pulled me into a back-slapping hug. I pulled back, a little dazed.
“Where should I sit? Is here okay?”
He pointed to the chair opposite me.
“Uh, sure, wherever is comfortable.”
My dad settled into it and glanced between us. “This works.”
Perfect. Now I had to try to get things done knowing he’d be watching my every move.
“Who’s up there?” He pointed toward the cockpit.
I was reminded of my offer to Kevin. I hoped we’d both made the right decision.
“It’s Dan Fielding,” I answered.
“Okay, good,” he nodded. “I’ve flown with him before. Excellent pilot.”
Of course he had to weigh in like he’d hired the man himself.
“Mr. Ashford, what brought you to New York?” Gwen asked.
True to form, she was in discovery mode, and this time I appreciated it. Maybe he’d give her a straight answer.
“Please call me Oliver. It was just boring meetings that aren’t worthy of another thought,” he said, waving his hand through the air like he was trying to clear smoke. “I’d rather talk about you. Tell me everything, Gwen Ackland.”
So we’d be getting this side of him. The charming, cocktail party version of the man who was so different from the quiet, distant father I was used to.
Our relationship would always be awkward, like we were remote colleagues forced into the same room for the first time.
I leaned back to watch the Oliver Ashford show.
Gwen laughed. “What do you want to know?”
“I’m sure you’re all business-ed out, so tell me how you relax. What do you do to unwind when you’re not fixing the headlines about my son?”
“Oh, wait a minute, I take no credit for the shift in the narrative,” she replied, flicking her eyes to me. “I mean, sure, the concept was mine, but the execution was all Harrison. He really sold it!”
I appreciated her effort to turn the praise onto me, but I knew my dad would roll over it like a speedbump.
“Yes, it was a fantastic performance,” he said, allowing a glance in my direction. “But back to you, Gwen.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was flirting with her.
I did know better though. Mom was basically the only woman in the world to my dad.
Even now, years after she was gone. I think a lot of people had assumed he’d immediately rush into another relationship.
That after decades of marriage, he wouldn’t be comfortable being alone.
For months, there was breathless speculation in the gossip columns whenever he was seen interacting with any unmarried woman between the ages of eighteen and sixty. But nothing ever came of it, to the surprise of everyone in the world except for my brothers and me.
“What do I like to do?” Gwen repeated. “I bake. Bread, cakes, cookies, pies…you name it. In fact, my sourdough starter will be ready this weekend, so I’ll be up to my ears in bread. Want some?”
Oliver chuckled. “What I wouldn’t do for some warm sourdough! Unfortunately, I gave up bread a while back, so enjoy it for me. Maybe this guy will take some?” He pointed at me. “I’ve never seen him refuse food.”
He laughed at the ongoing family joke that had never been funny.
For whatever reason, a single episode of me eating an entire pizza when I was in high school had turned into the narrative that I was the biggest eater of the three sons.
It didn’t matter that I worked out even more than my brothers did.
They still never missed the chance to kid about me being a glutton.
Gwen glanced at me with soft eyes, like she could see the insult through the jokey tone. “I’d be happy to give you some.”
I nodded and refocused on my laptop. “Thanks.”
“What do you like to do when you’re not running an empire?” Gwen asked my father.
“Oh, I’m plenty busy with my charities my wife used to volunteer with.
I’m doing my best to carry on her legacy.
I regret that I wasn’t able to be more involved with them while she was still with us.
” He paused and stared into the distance.
“I have quite a few regrets, actually. So many trips not taken. So many important events, missed.” He sighed. “The curse of hindsight.”
It was a rare moment of candor, and with the way he was watching me, I had a feeling it was for my benefit.
“I was lucky enough to visit the puppy wing named for Alicia at the shelter,” Gwen expertly maneuvered out of the confessional space.
Perfect, because I didn’t want to hear it. My father had made choices, and now he had to live with them.
Oliver nodded. “She loved dogs. Always wanted one. This guy too,” he pointed at me. “The two of them used to tag team me, trying to get me to cave and let them have one.”
“Why didn’t you?” Gwen asked.
I stopped working to watch my father’s face as he answered, wondering how honest he’d be.
“We came close once,” he said. “Our gardener’s dog had an accidental litter before they were able to get her spayed, and he brought the two puppies over one afternoon, so the boys could see them. Well, let me tell you, I don’t know who begged harder, this one or his mother.”
He chuckled at what was a painful memory for me. I still remember my mom going to bat for me—for us, really, because it had been obvious that she wanted the sweet little pup too. My mom and I were usually of the same mind on things.
“What happened?” Gwen wondered.
“They were going to be big dogs,” my dad continued.
“The mom was a hound, and the dad was some sort of collie. Big and busy, and our lifestyle didn’t really allow for that sort of upheaval.
I mean, it’s not like you can load up a seventy-pound dog when you head to ski in Gstaad, am I right?
And our daily life was crazy too. Alicia with her committees and events, and the boys had sports. ”
“You could’ve hired a dog walker,” Gwen pointed out.
I loved that she wasn’t afraid to push him. Anyone else would’ve been bowled over in the presence of the primary Ashford.
“Too much hassle,” he answered. “We were more nimble without dogs. And hey, this guy could adopt a house full of them, and he still hasn’t, so I guess my decision was solid. Right, Harrison?”
I refused to give him the pleasure of agreeing. “I get my fix at the shelter.”
“Tell me about your parents, Gwen,” Oliver said. He’d spread out in his seat like we were guests on his jet.
“Well, my dad played professional baseball, and now he owns a baseball-themed restaurant.”
“Professional baseball? And you said your name was Gwen Ackland? Oh my, would that mean your father is Dale Ackland?”
“Yeah, that’s Dad,” she said lightly, but when I looked up from my laptop, I saw a tense expression on her face, like she was bracing herself for what my father might say next.
“How’s he doing these days?” Dad asked, his voice surprisingly gentle. “If I remember right, he had some…rough years after he left baseball.”
What was Dad talking about? I made a note to myself to look Dale Ackland up later.
“He’s good now,” Gwen said, her smile turning warmer. “Really good.” She held up her phone. “I actually just got a text from him before we took off this morning, bragging about guessing today’s Wordle on the first try. We talk pretty much every day.”
“Oh,” Dad said, sounding…strange. Almost wistful. “That sounds really nice.”
A father who was close to his kid? Yeah, that did sound nice. Too bad that wasn’t the Ashford way.