“I don’t know.”
“She acted like it was my fault. Like I shouldn’t be studying…in college. She told me she didn’t want to break up, but unless I could give her more time, she couldn’t see past it.”
“I’ve never met the girl, so—”
“It’s selfish.”
“It sounds it.”
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t care.”
“That’s the bitch of it, Sully. Because you can tell yourself that, but the heart knows different.”
Yeah, she’d know about that.
She’d loved his dad since she was eight.
Eight.
Forty-four years of love and he’d burned her bad, and they’d been apart forever, and there she was, sitting next to Duncan Holloway’s son, listening to his post-breakup blues.
She knew what her heart wanted.
And he wanted that.
“I want that,” he whispered.
“Sorry?”
“Nothin’.”
“What’d you say, Sul?”
“Nothin’.”
“Okay, honey.”
And she let it be.
Because she was Genny.
And because she was Genny, he said, “I want what you give to Dad.”
He knew she was looking at him even before she said, “Then that is not Aubrey. Your father could be on the moon for five years, studying rocks because that was his passion, and he’d come home to me.”
“I know,” he muttered.
She reached out. Touched his arm. Then pulled back.
“You’re young. Wait for her, Sully. She’s out there.”
And she was not Aubrey.
She guided them to her place and told him to drive up to the front and valet, “Because the garage scares me. It’s so tight. I only park down there when Bowie’s driving. Before him, I always valeted.”
Unsaid: or her ex did it.
Tom Pierce was now going to be in the mix.
He’d bowed out of Thanksgiving.
But this made Sash and Coco have to do the split (not Matt, he stayed with his mom and them up at the house).
And apparently, Pierce did not like that for his girls, or Genny, and not only because them doing the split meant them driving two hours between Thanksgiving meals.
So he was going to man up.
Sully didn’t get this, and he figured it was going to be all kinds of awkward.
But it was also cool.
His mom and dad didn’t avoid each other, but they didn’t talk to each other at all that Sul knew. They were civil but not friendly.
His mom, because she was embarrassed, maybe still loved his dad a whole lot, and it made her sad she’d fucked that up so huge.
His dad, because he was over her before he divorced her and he’d moved on, dating and now Genny.
So yeah, not super close friends.
At all.
He’d barely stopped at the swank roll through in front of her high-rise when the valet was at her door.
“Good evening, Ms. Swan.”
“Evening, Lucas,” she replied.
Sully pulled himself out and moved to the back, where he’d popped the hatch.
“Good evening, Mr. Holloway.”
He blinked at a guy who was probably older than him, but only by a few years.
“Uh, hey.”
The guy smiled.
Then they both ran into each other going for his bag.
“I got it,” Sully said.
Lucas backed off.
He started to hand him the fob, but Genny said, “They have one, Sully. That’s mine.”
So he handed it to her.
After being told to have a good evening, he followed her into a lobby that was all ritzy furniture, water features, real live plants, massive pots stuffed with poinsettias, and classy holiday decorations, including the fanciest menorah he’d ever seen sitting on the front desk.
And there were a lot of “Evening Ms. Swan, Mr. Holloway.”
They didn’t even fob themselves up.
The dude behind the desk hopped to and pressed the elevator button for them, outside and in, unlocking the security on the buttons with his own fob.
“Jesus,” he muttered when the doors closed.
“Your brother got used to it really quickly.”
At that, he looked to her and felt like a dick.
Because it was the first time he’d smiled at her since he got off the plane.
“Gage is feeling this luxury condo living,” she shared.
And at that, he started laughing.
Her hall was just as posh, clean as a pin, deadly silent and a little eerie.
She opened one side of double doors and he got blinded by the light from a massive crystal chandelier.
And that was all he was able to take in.
“Sully!” Sash screamed, racing down a wide hall to him, her long hair flying, like he’d been off to war or something.
He dropped his bag before she hit which was a good thing, or they’d both go down.
She gave him a tight hug then jumped back and shouted, “God! I’m so glad you’re here! Finally! If Bowie would just get here, we can start Christmas!”
Christmas wasn’t for four days, but he didn’t share that.
She was dragging him in.
All he caught was a lot of white, bits of black, gold and pops of bright pink, when Coco rounded a corner.
As usual, she looked right out of a fashion magazine, hair and shoes included.
Her fingers were wrapped around a martini glass that had some blue drink in it with white froth at the top, and she was smirking at him.