Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ASLAN
A s Tim drives away with Keaton, I wonder what the fuck happened today?
I don’t want her to leave me.
Why can’t she stay for a few more hours—or the night?
It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to be around a woman, and now I’m questioning every moment I’ve spent with her since she came to work for Spearman LP.
She’s the only one of my employees who’s in my office at least a third of the day.
She helps me make decisions, but I also enjoy her company.
I admire her work ethic, her intelligence, and her drive.
She’s an integral part of my company, but in just a few hours I’ve come to the realization that she’s not just any employee.
I care a lot about her. Even when I don’t know her family background, I know a lot about her. Including her gestures and her favorite food.
She’s not only Keaton Nealy.
She’s my Keaton.
But can I have something meaningful with her without affecting our working relationship?
It’s the first time in years that I want more than just a sexual release. What I feel for her goes soul deep, and I don’t understand how that happened.
Is it possible to surrender myself to her?
Will she accept me?
It doesn’t take long for Gatsby and Lysander to flank me.
Where the fuck did they come from?
It’s as if they were waiting for the exact moment when Keaton left to… “What do you want?”
“I told you she was the best candidate,” Lysander says, as I stare at the red lights of the back of the car. “Everyone ate the entire thing up.”
“You two are idiots. This is going to end in tragedy,” Gatsby claims.
Isn’t he supposed to be out of town until next week? “When did you get back from New York?”
“A couple of hours ago. I was landing when my phone blew up with hundreds of messages about you and Keaton. I called Lysander, who kindly gave me the SparkNotes—with the unofficial version.” He sighs, crossing his arms. His look reminds me of Dad’s.
It’s the same he gave us when he was disappointed in our behavior.
“When did you lose your last working neuron?”
Lysander slaps him on the back of his head. “They’re called brain cells, and…oops, I just killed one of yours. Are you feeling more human, or are you still an android?”
“You’re an idiot.” Gatsby sighs.
“Sure, but you’re bitter because he listened to my wise advice and not yours.”
And the fun part about having these two assholes is that sometimes, we still fight as if we were ten.
“You know what would’ve been easier?” Gatsby asks as we go inside the building.
I glare at him. “Don’t say confront our mother, or I might punch you.”
We step into the elevator, and he pokes the button to the roof a few times.
I’m guessing that we’ll spend some time in what we like to call our man cave.
Not that it’s a cave, but that’s where we hang out during our free time—not that we have much.
It has a patio, a grill, a covered cantina with a wine fridge, and everything we need to spend an evening drinking and sometimes playing around.
Gatsby gives me a frustrated glance. “I don’t understand why you’re so afraid of her.”
“I’m not…listen. I choose not to argue with her. I don’t understand why you can’t go with my plan and let me be.”
“That’s why she’s always telling you what to do and how to feel,” he answers as if he has a degree in Mother’s behavior.
“Well, it’s done. Can you pretend to be supportive?”
He snorts. “So, I’m guessing you’re going to Hawaii.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Of course I’m going. I wouldn’t want to deal with Mom’s wrath,” he answers, walking toward the covered cantina.
“You’re telling me that I’m in the wrong, but not even you confront Mom,” I protest, turning on the fire pit. “No one does. I don’t understand why you judge me.”
“I do,” Lysander argues.
“You get him?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean I understand his logic. I mean I’ve confronted Mom.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Really, when was that? Twenty-seven years ago, when you didn’t want to share a party with us? You wanted to have your own birthday and be unique.” I draw air quotes.
“No. I do every time she insists I go back to live in the guesthouse, and I tell her that being here makes more sense for the business.”
Gatz and I laugh.
“That doesn’t count. You’re still avoiding her.”
He pours a couple fingers of Macallan in a tumbler.
“You’d be wrong, my friendly apes. I’m keeping my personal life away from her.
Do you know what it’s like to live close to her?
It was a nightmare. She checked on me whenever I left and when I arrived home.
If I brought a guest…the last time she prepared breakfast for my one-night stand. I had to leave.”
“Idiot. You don’t bring home your one-night stand,” Gatsby chides him.
I frown and cross my arms. “I’m confused.”
He stares at me for a couple of seconds before asking, “About?”
“You’re almost a monk, but you know the one-night stand protocol. Is that something you study in Sex for Dummies 101?”
Lysander and I high-five each other.
Gatsby smirks. “What makes you think I’m a monk?”
“I’ve never seen you with anyone.”
Lysander nods in agreement. He went to Georgia Tech for college, while Lysander and I stayed at Stanford—it was closer to home. I knew there was some girl he liked there but never heard much about it after he quit school and came back home. Since then, he’s never mentioned anyone.
“Because I’m discreet with my personal life. The last thing I need is bad PR, more so when I’m trying to grow my company.”
“He’s so fucking boring.” Lysander rolls his eyes. “This is why Mom is trying to marry off Aslan. She needs grandchildren—or a hobby.”
“Well, the other day, Fern was talking about adopting a child. Maybe she can be the one who’ll give Mom all the grandchildren to keep her occupied and away from everyone else,” Gatsby says.
My blood freezes. Oh, Ferny. “I was joking when I told her to do that.”
“Well, you had her wondering about it. What if she just did it?” He gives me a disapproving look. “If she does something stupid, I’ll blame you. I just don’t understand why she won’t fall in love and try to do it the traditional way?”
I press my lips together, and after a couple of seconds, answer. “She’s afraid she’ll never be able to find what our parents had. What’s the point of falling when you’ll never replicate it? Also, she only finds a bunch of losers who feel threatened by her success.”
“Well, Aunt Ari and Uncle James have it too,” Gatz reminds us. “All our cousins from that side are happily married.”
“You can mention all the people who’ve had it, but maybe that’s your problem. You search for the impossible. A perfect relationship,” Lysander swirls all the liquor in his glass and then stares into the horizon.
Is he okay? I prefer not to ask. He might push me off the roof.
“We’re pathetic,” I say, pouring myself more scotch.
Lysander looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “You had Margie. Sure, she cheated, and her existence makes us all uncomfortable, but…you loved her.”
After a long pause, I finally say, “Sometimes I wonder if that was love. We know she loved the idea of becoming a Spearman and having access to my checking account. I…she was hot, and I was a shallow kid. In high school it was lust. During college it was convenient to be with her and just come home every weekend to see her.”
I don’t know what I feel for Keaton, but it’s a lot more than I ever felt for Margie. I never felt protective of her. We didn’t understand each other. Being with her was just a habit. I proposed because she pressured me. Did I see myself married to her? I don’t remember.
The resentment I carry isn’t because I lost the love of my life, but because she betrayed me when Dad died. “She probably did us both a favor by fucking our cousin. That wasn’t love.”
Gatsby frowns. “And you know what love looks like?”
Is it what I feel for Keaton?
I don’t even want to think about it.
Because I don’t want to discuss Keaton with them, I bring back some of Dad’s advice.
“The summer before I got engaged, when Margie was pressuring me, Dad said, ‘When you’re in love, you’ll want to be around her all the time.
The sun rises with her. You’ll love her beautiful scars and all her flaws.
You’ll want to protect her, but you’ll admire her for her courage and determination as she fights her own battles. ’”
Gatsby stares at me in awe. “He never told me that.”
“You never stayed up at night and waited until he was in the living room, looking at the stars,” I remind him.
“I regret never doing that,” he says, finishing his drink and pouring himself more. “I swore you were crazy. Lysander thought the same.”
Lysander nods. “I miss him.”
We lift our glasses, toasting. “To the best father in the world,” I say.
“May we become half the man that he was.” Gatsby takes a big gulp. He’s going to end up drunk.I’m halfway there.
“You should try,” Lysander says, pointing toward the bridge.
I stare at him, almost scared. When he’s drunk, he tends to do stupid things. “Try what?” Does he want me to dive from the bridge? Jump off the roof…what now?
“With Keaton,” he mumbles.
I frown, trying to understand him. “What are we talking about?”
“I know it’s a fake relationship, but you have a thing for her,” Gatsby is the one who speaks. “I agree with Lysander. You should at least see if things between the two of you could…”
Have I thought about kissing her? So many times, I lost count. I might want to cross the line between professional and personal while we’re in Hawaii, away from our real lives. That’d be as far as this could get.
“She’s leaving soon,” I blurt out, and I’m not sure if I’m telling them or reminding myself.
“Then don’t let her go,” Lysander suggests.
“I won’t stop her growth because I?—”
“You can make it work. I have a company in New York, yet I live here. It’s called compromising,” Gatsby says as if he’s doing the same with someone.
Is he dating and hasn’t told anyone?
I stare at him for a few seconds and let it go. If he were with someone, we’d know. During college, he had a big crush on a classmate. I’m pretty sure he was in love, but Dad died, and now…well, I doubt he’s felt for anyone else the way he did her.
Before asking him about his dating life, Lysander opens his big fucking mouth. “He compromises with his A.I. girlfriend. You could create a girlfriend for her and have hot threesomes.”
“You’re an idiot with the maturity of a thirteen-year-old boy,” Gatsby growls.
“That I am, and I’ll never change, but can we focus on Aslan and his?—”
The elevator’s bell chimes, announcing someone arrived, and seconds later, Heath steps out carrying bags. Huxley is right behind him.
“No one mentions Keaton,” I mumble before our other brothers can hear us.
“One of these days, you have to stop using me as your delivery boy. I’m a doctor, not your butler,” Heath complains.
Hux glares at Lysander. “I’m a bartender, but yeah, why am I bringing shit all the way from Paradise Bay?”
“It seemed like a good time to get together,” Lysander claims. “A.I. Boy landed, Aslan finally confessed that he’s with Keaton…”
Fuck, didn’t I just tell him not to mention her? I’m going to strangle him.
“Where’s Keaton?” Hux scans the roof.
“Who is Keaton?” Heath, who’s always the last one to learn what’s happening, asks.
“His girlfriend and the hot VP of Operations,” Lysander points at me.
“I bet these two have known for a long time,” Hux rolls his eyes.
Gatsby opens one of the takeout containers. “It’s the beauty of being a triplet.”
“Don’t you share the same brain with Cory? There has to be a twin connection there,” Heath asks Huxley.
“No, thank fuck,” Hux answers. “Are you jealous because you don’t have a partner in crime?”
“Not at all. I never had to share my room, my birthday, or my car. I was special—unlike you four. Five, if we count Cory. So, what are we celebrating?”
“That it’s Wednesday, and we’re all alive,” I say, and silently I think that we should celebrate surviving fourteen years without Dad.
Oh, how I wish he were here to guide me through the labyrinth I’m getting into. I look at the dark sky, hoping that he’s up there, ready to hold my hand while I try to figure out my future.
Is Keaton my future?