CHAPTER 36
Sebastian
FUCKING NEHA.
Out of everyone we could’ve run into at bowling, we had to run into Maya’s rigid, uptight sister.
Maya had spent the past week panicking about tonight’s dinner at my parents’ house, but a strange calm enveloped me as I entered their brownstone.
In hindsight, hiding our relationship from her family had probably caused more issues than it’d prevented.
Neal, in particular, hated when people lied to him, and that included lying by omission.
Revealing that I’d secretly been dating his daughter behind his back for the past month and a half wasn’t going to win me any brownie points, but what was done was done.
Even if I could change the past—knowing we’d end up in this predicament if I didn’t—I wouldn’t have traded the past month of bliss for anything. Having Maya all to myself for those weeks was worth whatever recriminations her parents threw my way.
My only worry was how she’d handle it, but we’d deal with it together. I was also banking on her mother’s elation to calm some of her father’s inevitable anger.
However, my calm fizzled when I stepped into the dining room, where my parents were already seated.
The Singhs weren’t here yet, but something was off.
I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was a current in the air, a subtle shift in energy that made the hairs on my nape prickle and goosebumps run up and down my arms.
I hid my unease for the time being and greeted my parents.
“Sebastian!” My mother gave me a double air kiss. “I’m so happy to see you. You look wonderful.”
“Thanks, Maman.” My smile vanished when I greeted my father. “Papa.”
He inclined his head. “Sebastian.”
My mother chattered on about her upcoming spa vacation with Shilpa, Maya’s mom. They were going to some fancy new place in Switzerland.
I listened and asked the appropriate questions, but my sense of unease deepened.
It wasn’t related to our conversation or even my father, who was busy with his phone.
It was more like a warning tingle, similar to the way I could smell an impending storm or guess when a jump scare was about to pop up during a horror movie.
The Singhs arrived soon after. Maya came in behind her parents, and the knots in my gut loosened when she flashed me a quick, conspiratorial smile.
Besides Neha, everyone thought we barely tolerated each other, so we exchanged only a brief hello before we settled into our usual seating arrangement—my father and Neal at opposite ends of the table, the rest of us occupying the seats between them.
It was a smaller affair tonight, consisting of myself, Maya, our parents, and her sisters.
Her grandmother and her sister’s partners were conspicuously absent.
Maya and I had agreed to tell our families together after dinner. That meant we had two hours before the grand finale, give or take. Until then…
Maya’s foot grazed mine beneath the table. I tensed, electricity spiking in my blood. An image of her sprawled half naked on her breakfast table flashed through my mind, and I quickly took a gulp of water to hide the heat creeping over my face.
She continued eating without looking at me, but I detected a grin lurking at the corners of her mouth.
That little tease. She was going to pay for that later.
At least she seemed calmer today. She was almost playful. She must’ve come to the same conclusion I had—whatever was going to happen would happen regardless of how we felt about it. We might as well have some fun while we could.
Honestly, we should skip the rest of dinner altogether. I could grab her and kiss her right here, during the main course. How was that for an announcement? Then I could drag her back to my place and—
“Sebastian, dear, can you pass the potatoes?” my mother asked, chasing away what would’ve been a highly inappropriate fantasy for a family-and-friends dinner. She frowned at me. “Are you alright? You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine.” I passed her the bowl of scalloped potatoes. “I was just thinking about dessert. I’d love to eat some strawberries later. Maybe with some chocolate syrup and honey.”
Maya choked on her drink. I tamped down a smirk as she got her coughing under control and glared at me.
Two could play this game.
A line of puzzlement formed between my mother’s brows. “I’ll tell Evita,” she said, naming their live-in chef. “We’ll see what she can do.”
“How are you feeling, by the way?” I asked. “How’s physical therapy?”
I’d been worried she would skip her doctor-mandated PT sessions after her car accident, but she’d been going every week. After months of therapy, her slight limp was gone, though she still complained about a few aches that flared up now and again.
“Fine. Boring.” She made a face. “Next week’s my last session. I need something fun as a reward. Maybe I’ll go with your aunt to Monaco—” She stopped short.
She wasn’t going anywhere with my aunt because my aunt was dead.
I swallowed the sudden bitter taste in my throat. “I can go with you. A weekend trip, like old times.”
“No, t’inquiète.” She covered up her mistake with a stiff smile. “I already have my Switzerland trip with Shilpa coming up. I don’t need to go to Monaco.”
Maya’s mother overheard her name, and they struck up a new conversation about their plans for the trip.
I returned to my meal, but the once-delicious food tasted like soggy paper. My mother hadn’t slipped up like that in months. It wasn’t a huge deal, but I worried it was a sign she might unravel again. Or… was that me being paranoid and projecting my own neuroses onto her? I had no way of knowing.
“Seb.” Maya’s voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear her. When I looked up, she was watching me, her expression soft with worry.
Are you okay? she mouthed.
I nodded. I’d told her about my mother’s struggles after my aunt’s death, but she didn’t know the full story. It wasn’t mine to tell, and part of me was embarrassed to voice my concerns in case I was reading too much into what was likely a normal grief process.
Dinner continued as usual. Besides Neha’s pointed stares, the atmosphere was light, but my earlier unease lingered.
It wasn’t until dessert rolled around that my intuition proved prescient.
“How was the tennis tournament at Valhalla last week?” Neal asked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. My meetings in Chicago took longer than expected.”
“It was fine. Verver won. You should’ve seen the shock on everyone’s face.” My father laughed.
Neal didn’t join in. “Good to hear. What about afterward? How were your meetings?”
The Valhalla Club’s annual tennis tournament was really an excuse for members to hobnob and source intel from each other. It was more popular with the older crowd, and the “casual” drinks and dinners that people scheduled after the matches were the real draw.
My father shrugged. “They were fine. Nothing earth-shattering.”
“Really?” Neal leaned back. “So there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
A sharp current rippled through the air, and the hairs on my nape prickled again. Maya set her fork down, her eyes sliding between our fathers with consternation.
My father frowned. “Like what?”
“Like why you had dinner with Charles Whitaker.” Neal’s eyes flashed.
Charles Whitaker was the CEO of Whitaker Farms, Singh Foods’ biggest competitor.
“I had to hear about it from Greenley, of all people. You should’ve seen how delighted he was when he realized I didn’t know.
Why the fuck would you accept Whitaker’s invite, and why did you keep the meeting a secret from me? ”
The others’ conversations ground to a halt. Maya sucked in an audible breath while her sisters’ eyes widened to cartoonish proportions.
Neal rarely cursed. He considered profanity a failure of discipline, so his outburst spoke volumes about how deeply my father’s actions upset him.
My father bristled. He was the type to double down instead of show remorse, and his response was clipped. “It was one dinner. We had a casual chat. I didn’t keep it a secret from you because it wasn’t worth mentioning.”
“Come on, Michel. You’ve been in business long enough to know exactly how that meeting was going to play out.
” Neal scoffed. “It wasn’t about the conversation.
It was about the optics. You think it’s a coincidence that Whitaker asked to meet the same day I was out of town?
We’re two months out from a major product drop, one that will overshadow his own, and he’s trying to stir up doubt.
There are already whispers about why you’re meeting with my biggest competitor this close to launch.
Rumors that you’re unhappy with our partnership and that you might jump ship to Whitaker Farms for your next collaboration.
That’s what he wanted, and you played right into his hand. How can you not see that?”
“That’s ridiculous,” my father said. “Maybe Whitaker had ulterior motives, but if I’d said no, he would’ve found another way to get to me.
People whisper all the time. If I made business decisions based on potential rumors, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
I told you, it was one fucking dinner, and I don’t need your permission to say yes to any invitations.
Not everything revolves around you and your company. ”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about it?” Neal gestured at the table. “I didn’t say anything during dinner because I was waiting for you to bring it up. You didn’t. People only hide things when they feel guilty.”
I shifted in my seat, my stomach tight.
“Stop it,” Michel snapped. “I told you, it wasn’t important enough for me to mention. Now, can we enjoy our dessert in peace, or do we have to continue indulging your paranoia?”
“It’s not paranoia,” Neal snapped back. “He’s using you, and you can’t even see it!”
“Are you calling me na?ve?” My father’s voice was incredulous.
“No, I’m calling you a traitor. This is not what friends do, Michel. Remember when I canceled my company’s contract with the Belmonts? It would’ve made us millions, but I backed out because they fucked you over. That is what friends do. I had your back, but it’s clear you don’t have mine.”
“Oh, fuck off!” My father exploded. “You’ve been holding that over my head for a decade, and I’m sick of it.
If you think I’d stoop that low—if you think it’s okay to call me a traitor because of a stupid meal—then you should just leave.
I will not have anyone insulting my character in my own house, much less someone who calls himself a friend. ”
The ensuing silence was so thick, so barbed with anger, that I couldn’t breathe without it stinging my lungs.
Maya and I exchanged stricken glances. Her mother sat frozen, her face pale, while mine guzzled the rest of her wine like her life depended on it. My mother didn’t deal well with confrontation, and none of us had ever seen my father and Neal fight.
They’d been close friends for decades. They’d been each other’s best men at their respective weddings, and our families vacationed together every year. Seeing them clash like this was almost sacrilegious.
A dinner might seem like a foolish thing for them to fight over, but Neal was incredibly sensitive about Whitaker Farms’ increasing share of the market. Singh Foods had dominated the frozen foods world for decades, and he wasn’t dealing well with the prospect of being dethroned.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t call us friends anymore,” Neal said, his voice cold. He threw his napkin down and shoved his chair back. “Shilpa, girls, let’s go. We’re leaving.”
“Neal—”
“Dad—”
Maya and her mother both spoke up, but he shut them down with a steely glare.
The rest of the Singhs quietly stood and followed Neal toward the exit. Shilpa murmured a soft “thank you for dinner” to my mother, who appeared dazed by the abrupt turn of events.
“In case it wasn’t clear, there will be no more communication between our families outside work,” Neal said. His mustache bristled with barely contained fury. “Whatever personal relationship we had ends here.”
“Fine,” my father replied, his tone equally cool. If it weren’t for the flush staining his cheeks, I wouldn’t have guessed their falling out affected him at all. “Then so be it.”
Neal’s nostrils flared. The Singhs left, but not before Maya sent a panicked glance my way. I tried to look reassuring; I was sure I failed.
So much for telling our families we were dating. We’d be lucky if our fathers ever spoke to each other again.
Then she was gone, and silence reigned once more.
My father tossed his own napkin on the table and stormed out without a word. My mother motioned for another glass of wine, and I stared at Maya’s empty chair, my insides churning.
What the fuck just happened?