6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
A ntonio
I let out a frustrated grunt, staring at my phone, still displaying Kendra’s number and the stark “call ended” notification. Jake had eagerly handed over her contact when I said I needed to apologize, but… she hung up on me. Not that I didn’t deserve it. A part of me hoped she'd at least let me get a word in, but I guess that was too much to ask.
"Every time she gave you that chance, all you did was yell at her ," a voice in my head snidely reminded me.
I took a deep breath, trying to organize the flood of emotions surging through me. My body was tense, and I could feel the sun beating down on my skin as I stood beside the pool at the Michaelson estate, staring at the water's surface.
On any other day, the bright sunlight and cool water would tempt me into a cannonball, splashing away the day’s stress. But not today. Today, nothing could pull me out of the fog clouding my mind, my thoughts completely stuck on Kendra.
The guilt had been eating at me ever since the incident at the diner. I had been unnecessarily hard on her, I knew that. The altercation was just as much my fault as hers—maybe even more.
I hadn’t been paying attention. My head was a mess, spinning with too many things at once, and she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kendra seemed to have that kind of luck—running into me when I was at my worst.
A heavy pang of regret settled in my chest as I thought about all the other times we’d crossed paths. I always seemed to be off-kilter around her, snapping for no good reason. Everything in my life was going wrong, and instead of dealing with it, I was using her as a punching bag for my frustrations. It wasn’t right. She didn’t deserve that. No one did.
Letting out a shaky breath, I glanced at my phone again, feeling the urge to call her, to make things right. I tapped her number again, hoping she'd answer this time. The phone rang, but after a few seconds, I was met with her voicemail, her cheerful voice asking me to leave a message.
I paused, frozen. What could I even say? I didn’t want to leave a message. I wanted to talk to her, to apologize in person, to explain myself and fix this mess.
I hung up, staring at the screen. Part of me wanted to keep calling until she answered, but that would only make things worse. I tried one more time, and this time, a robotic voice greeted me. "Your call cannot be completed as dialed."
A sharp frown tugged at my lips. She blocked me.
I paced beside the pool, my mind racing as I thought about how to fix things. I could try talking to Lily, the diner’s owner. Maybe I could convince her to give Kendra her job back. It was the least I could do after my part in what had happened. If Kendra wasn’t going to speak to me, maybe she’d listen to Lily, and then… maybe she'd let me apologize.
The thought gnawed at me. I didn’t usually care about what anyone thought of me. I wasn’t always a jerk, but I wasn’t concerned with people’s opinions, either. Yet, with Kendra… I cared. Her opinion of me mattered for reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Maybe that’s because you like this one, ” the voice in my head mocked again, pushing me further into unease.
“What? No… I just don’t want to be on bad terms with my neighbor. It’s common courtesy,” I mumbled out loud, trying to reason with myself.
The voice scoffed, “ Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Shaking off the nagging thoughts, I turned away from the pool, heading toward the house. The warmth of the sun couldn’t chase away the cold knot in my stomach. I needed to fix this before it festered any longer.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I pushed into my room, scanning for the car key I had dropped somewhere last night. My eyes darted over the dresser where the other car keys lay, and I grabbed the one for my Aston Martin, clenching it tightly in my hand like a lifeline.
I was about to head out to see Lily, but before I could make a move toward the door, there was a knock. “Antonio?” My brother Damon’s voice called out from the hallway.
“Yeah, come in,” I answered, half-expecting some minor interruption, but the look on Damon’s face when he stepped inside told me otherwise.
"Dad wants to see you in the study," he said, standing awkwardly by the door.
I raised an eyebrow, getting a sinking feeling in my gut. "What's it about?"
Damon shrugged. "No clue. I'm just the messenger.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t it something that can wait? I have somewhere important I need to be.”
He hesitated, then said, “Dad asked me to bring two glasses and a bottle of wine, so... it might be a long talk."
I groaned inwardly. Wine meant my father was in one of his reflective moods, which usually meant sitting through a conversation I didn’t want to have. But I had no choice. "Okay, thanks."
I glanced at my phone, hesitating. I needed to fix the Kendra situation before the day got away from me. Before heading downstairs, I dialed Jake’s number. It was my only option.
"Yo, T.O.!" Jake’s cheerful voice rang through the phone. "What’s up, man?"
"I need a favor," I said, cutting straight to the point.
"Uh-oh," Jake teased. "This sounds serious."
"Could you talk to Lily for me? Ask her to give Kendra her job back. Tell her it was my fault. I’ll go down to the diner later and explain things myself."
"Wait...this is about that diner thing yesterday, isn’t it? Dude, you’ve got it bad."
“How do you even know about it?”
“Because you’re not as stone-hearted as you think you are. Plus, you’ve been talking about Kendra non-stop.”
I rolled my eyes. "Just do it, Jake. And tell Lily I’ll take full responsibility for what happened."
“Okay, okay,” Jake sighed dramatically. “But first, you gotta admit something to me.”
I groaned, already knowing where this was going. “What?”
“You like Kendra, don’t you?”
“Oh my Gosh! Are we seriously doing this right now?”
“Yep! Admit it, T.O. You’re totally into her. Why else would you care so much?”
“There’s nothing to admit, Jake,” I snapped. “I just feel bad, okay? I don’t like leaving things messy.”
"Uh-huh. Sure. Just make sure I’m invited to the wedding," Jake cackled, and before I could respond, he added, “I’ll take care of Lily for you. Good luck, lover boy!”
I hung up, exasperated, trying to shake off the mix of emotions stirring inside me.
Sliding my car key into the pocket of my jeans, I hurried downstairs toward my father’s study, mentally preparing for whatever conversation awaited me. After knocking lightly, I heard my father’s familiar voice call out, "Antonio, come in."
Stepping inside, I was immediately met with the scent of fine leather and old books, a room that hadn’t changed since I was a kid sneaking in to read his historical volumes. My father sat in his usual spot, sipping wine from a crystal glass, a thoughtful expression on his face as he closed the book he was reading and gestured for me to sit.
“Took you long enough,” he said mildly.
“Sorry, Dad,” I replied, still standing near the door. “Damon said you wanted to talk?”
“Dad, if it’s about your ex-wife and what she proposed, I have already said my piece. And I really don’t want to discuss anything pertaining to that woman any further.”
My tone was almost flat, except for the hint of anger in it. The call I had received at the bar that was responsible for my foul mood and the incident with Kendra had been about her – my mother… although I refused to address her, as that.
This woman who abandoned her husband and child and almost milked them broke, only to come back years later asking to be forgiven and let back into our lives just because she had hit rock bottom was no mother of mine.
“It is not about your mother,” he replied dryly, sipping his wine.
My father poured himself another glass of wine before motioning to the seat across from him. "Sit, Antonio. We need to have a serious conversation."
I hesitated but eventually sank into one of the plush armchairs, feeling the softness envelop me. "What's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.
He steepled his fingers and studied me for a long moment before speaking. "I've been hearing rumors, Antonio. Rumors that concern me."
I frowned, feeling a flicker of annoyance. "What rumors?"
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Rumors that you're... uninterested in women, that you have other inclinations." His voice dropped on the last word, heavy with implication.
I stared at him, completely thrown. "What? Where did you even hear that?"
My father’s expression didn’t waver. "Does it matter? The point is, I need to know if there's any truth to these claims."
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. It was ridiculous. "No, Dad, there’s no truth to that. I just don’t see the point in getting wrapped up in shallow relationships. That’s all."
He regarded me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing my words. "So, you don’t plan on settling down anytime soon?"
"Marriage?" I snorted. "Come on, Dad. I’m not about to let some woman tie me down just because she’s after my money."
"Not all women are like that, Antonio," he said quietly.
“Sure, Dad. Your first marriage wasn’t about money at all,” I replied, my voice hard.
His eyes flickered with hurt, but he didn’t argue. “That’s not the point.”
“I’m just saying, why would I get involved in something so messy? Look at your second marriage, too. I wouldn’t sleep with both eyes closed if I were you.” The words spilled out, unchecked, fueled by the long history of resentment that sat between us.
“Antonio, watch your tone,” he warned, a sharp edge entering his voice.
But I didn’t back down. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that marriage hasn’t made you more paranoid than ever. Or that you're actually happy."
My father’s face tightened, the lines on his forehead deepening. For a long moment, he just stared at me, his eyes hard and unreadable. Finally, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Happiness isn’t as straightforward as you seem to think."
I folded my arms, refusing to let him deflect. "It should be. You make it sound like misery is part of the deal."
"Life isn’t a fairytale, Antonio. Love isn’t some cure-all that makes everything perfect."
"I’m not asking for perfection, Dad. I’m just saying I don’t see the point of marriage if it’s only going to make things worse."
He sighed again, a deep, weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world. "You think you know everything now, but one day... you’ll understand that life is more complicated than the rules you’ve set for yourself."
I shook my head. "I doubt it. I’m not like you."
“No, you're not,” he said quietly. “You have your mother’s stubbornness and a heart that's still closed off. You’ll learn the hard way if you don’t change.”
The conversation ended in silence, the tension hanging heavy between us as I stood to leave. But his final words followed me out of the room like a shadow.