“We can order in,” he says, reading my mind.
“Just not steak,” I add.
“Okay, not steak,” he chuckles.
I don’t think I’ll be able to look at a steak or a frying pan for at least a month, maybe more.
Chapter Twenty
Trent
After an eventful first night at home, I decide it’s a better idea if we just lay low and do nothing on Sunday.
Brooke’s dad calls, and surprise, surprise he can’t talk long with her, just letting her know he’s been called away on work and might not be back until midweek. Maybe even later.
It’s a relief for Brooke, and for me to I guess. At least a few more days to ourselves without her fretting over what he’ll do or say.
The more time we spend together though, it’s pretty clear Brooke isn’t planning on going home. It’ll be an awkward thing when her dad finds out about us, but I’m actually looking forward to it.
Anything to make her happier, less worried is fine by me.
Monday rolls around too quickly. Once Sunday turns into breakfast lunch and then dinner in bed, I feel like I want this weekend to last forever.
And it can.
It will, I just have to make it so.
Early Monday, I let Brooke sleep in and call a meeting with my accountant and lawyer, asking them to come straight over.
The place is plenty big enough, and using one of the conference rooms on the floor below, I tell them both how I want things set up. How I want things to run from now on.
Parker, my lawyer is older. More cautious about change, whereas Nick Jones, my accountant manager is younger, more open-minded.
But even he raises his brows when I spell things out.
My instructions are met with a wall of silence from both of them.
“It’s pretty simple,” I explain, frustrated by them both already. “I want everything divided equally between Brooke and myself. If anything goes wrong god forbid, she won’t be left without security and if anything really goes wrong, the remainder of my estate goes to the college, as a scholarship fund.”
They smile silently and nod, letting my words echo back to me from the walls of the largely empty space we’re in.
Taking my seat, I wait for them to say something. To say anything.
I know it’s a bold move, and I know Parker would say it’s reckless. But it’s my business to deal with as I like.
“It’s rather sudden,” is all Parker says, mopping his brow and making Nick shift uneasily in his seat when I retort that I’d like to see a financial report and a list of all my holdings within twenty-four hours.
“You sure you feel okay, Trent?” Nick finally says, leaning forward, his elbows on the conference table.
I ignore his question, I want Brooke to have her own account, with money and cars, whatever she needs.
“And she’ll be partner or employee, whichever works out best for tax and all that sort of thing,” I add, waving my hand dismissively.
I figure this is what these guys get paid for, they should be nodding and taking notes by now, but they both sit there, looking like zombies.
It’s an older and seemingly wiser Parker who breaks the ice.
“Trent. I hear you, and I’ll do as you wish, but you need to appreciate… The legal contracts, leases, and mortgages, not to mention the numerous assets, shares, and cash holdings you have in your name. These aren’t just things that can be ‘divvied up’ overnight,” he says somberly.
I thought as much, but I won’t back down on my idea.
Nick agrees, reminding me that the cost in time, as well as possible tax headaches, could “…outweigh any real benefit you hope to transfer to… Brooke,” he adds, raising his brows again.
Both men are divorcees, and I can tell what they’re thinking as well as if they’d scratched it into the table in front of me.
Trent’s mid-life crisis. We knew it would come one day. Why doesn’t he just buy a yacht like everyone else, maybe get some Botox, and move on?
I sigh heavily, not wanting to play my next card but I mean every word of what I’ve said so far.
“How long have you guys worked with me?” I ask, answering for them both, “Over ten years. Ten years and I let you take your cut, trusting you’re doing the right thing by me. Trusting you with a lot of responsibilities, not just my money,” I remind them both.
They both look down, suddenly unable to meet my intense gaze.
“If you can’t or won’t do as I’ve asked, then I have to say thank you for your help up until now and wish you both all the best.
They both look up in unison, Parker starting to swell and puff up in disbelief.
“This is ridiculous, Trent. Listen to yourself! All I’m saying is give this some time. A week maybe a month at least,” he says firmly, trying to sound like a well-meaning old friend than my lawyer but it’s wasted on me.