Chapter 29 #3
O followed Dante into the kitchen. The dark wood, charcoal stone, and matte black metal were as personal as a hotel suite. Actually the Crane penthouse had felt more personal. He chose a bottle from the wine refrigerator and grabbed a wine key.
Behind him, his father rifled through the cabinets and came out with a pair of crystal red wine glasses Dante had forgotten he owned.
“Dusty.”
“Towel.” Dante pointed at a drawer.
His father silently shined up the glasses. Dante silently poured.
They sipped Malbec in sync. It wasn’t half bad.
“Sorry, son.”
Dante nearly choked on the wine in his mouth. Octavius Crane had never sincerely apologized to him. Ever. He drank the remaining liquid before refilling his glass.
“Look, I know I can be a dick. Ask your Uncle Alex. I can be selfish and focused only on my needs. But I love my children. Always have.”
“Some more than others?” Dante couldn’t help asking.
“No. But I am closer with some than others. That’s on me.”
Dante nodded, unsure what to do with that.
“I should have fixed things between us sooner, but I can’t turn back the clock.
Maybe we can start again. I can stop trying to make you into a model of me, like I did Brody, and let you be who you are.
Which is obviously the CEO of your grandfather’s foundation here in LA. You made your choice. I respect it.”
“I stepped down from the foundation. About ten minutes ago.”
For once in his life, Octavius Crane had nothing to say. Then, quietly, “What brought that on? Hopefully not me. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for caring, son. It’s your best quality. That loyalty. That sense of duty.”
Dante absorbed the compliment before smiling sadly. “I hate to say this, but you were right. I was focused on the wrong priority.”
“Ah.” He nodded. When he spoke, it was like the bravado had been replaced with a more raw, more real version of him.
“I wasn’t there enough for you. When you were growing up.
You never needed me—that was what I told myself.
” He spun the glass by its stem. “You became a man with every quality I didn’t have.
Loyal to a fault. There when others needed him.
You didn’t inherit that from me. I’m proud of you. ”
There it was. Dante had waited his entire life to hear that from his father.
“Honesty…” Dante debated sharing, but then did anyway. “I love her. I never should have left her. Not then, not now.”
His father offered a sad smile. “Got your sense of self-preservation from me, though. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. You helped me understand what I didn’t want. And sometimes that’s as important as knowing what you do.”
O nodded and smiled. “Want to watch the sunset?”
“Sure.” Dante opened the glass doors leading out to the patio. The sun was low in the sky, the palm trees black silhouettes on the horizon. His massive patio, pool, and hot tub were as still as a tomb. Appropriate, since he didn’t feel alive here.
“So, what now?” his dad asked as he looked into the pool.
“I’m flying back tomorrow. Then…I don’t know what.”
O laid a heavy hand on Dante’s shoulder and squeezed.
“That’s how it’s done. No sense in making a pros and cons list. Fast decisions are rewarded by the universe.
As for tonight, wine and pizza on me. That is, if you can find a decent pie in this state.
” He turned to walk inside. “I’m going to use one of your eight bathrooms. Be right back. ”
“There are nine,” Dante called, smiling when his father’s laughter echoed off the walls.
His father was proud of him. And they were going to hang out and eat pizza and drink wine.
Dante was going to have to sit with that for a second—or maybe the rest of the evening.
O was right about a few things: his wariness of LA pizza and the fast-decision thing.
The decision to step down, to leave this life behind, rang tuning-fork strong in Dante’s gut.
Even though it scared the shit out of him.
He could only hope he wasn’t too late.
Inside, he splashed more wine into his glass. His eye caught the envelope on the counter. He tore it open and pulled out what was inside—a copy of North Shore Style magazine—a photo of him and Honesty on the cover. He removed the sticky note that read “From Jaylyn.”
In the photo, Honesty was laughing, her cheeks rosy, her eyes twinkling.
Her dark hair was draped over his arm. And his expression— Jesus.
How had he ever convinced himself Honesty could be temporary?
The love he felt for her was written on his face.
He’d seen a look like that before—on Brody’s face when he married Reagan.
On Zander’s face when he introduced Chloe.
And on O’s face when he talked about his children.
All of them. Dante included. Hope welled up within him, strong and true.
His father exited the first-floor bathroom. “Find that pizza?”
“Not yet. Chinese takeout might be the better bet.”
“Lucky for you, I am a betting man. Order one of everything. I’ll buy.” Octavius grabbed his glass and the wine bottle. Dante followed.
Then they sipped wine, shot the shit, and watched the sun disappear behind the LA skyline.