It’s hell. Which, ironically, was exactly what I thought when I first found out she was hired for the Vanderturn NOLA design.
My oh my, how things have fucking changed.
My only saving grace is what the torture of seeing her everyday provides.
I know her work habits. I know her schedule. I know her friends. I know that she hasn’t gone out on a single date since we broke up and that she spends most of her weekends at home, in the apartment right next door to mine.
And all of that means I know that Greer hasn’t moved on.
Call me a lovesick fool all you want, but that information is like a defibrillator to my battered heart. It means there’s hope on top of the despair and light at the end of the tunnel.
But broken hearts and silver linings aside, today is a big day.
And my focus needs to be on the hotel.
We are two weeks away from the opening, and my father is currently doing his walk-through. Every floor, every room, every nook and cranny of the place my team has worked so hard on for the past nine months.
I am proud of this hotel, so fucking proud of what my team has accomplished, but I have no idea what he’s thinking as he walks through the reception and lobby area. His face remains neutral and his eyes are investigative, refusing to provide any kind of fucking reaction that would actually give me something to go on, some kind of clue as to what side of the emotional scale I need to prepare myself for.
By the time we reach the outside terrace, where Greer has artfully arranged a cozy and sophisticated outdoor space that demands people enjoy it, my nerves are buzzing like a live wire.
It’s only the sense of pride for what she’s created that distracts me from my anxiety. I can already picture it at night with the sleek fire pits going and the twinkle lights flickering off the lush landscaping and guests sitting on the cushioned couches with drinks in their hands and smiles on their lips.
But I swallow down the unwanted emotion and focus on the task at hand. Preparing myself for whatever blows my dad is probably preparing to give.
“Well, Trent,” he says and turns around to meet my eyes. “Honestly, I’m not surprised.”
Oh, here we go…
“But also, I am,” he adds and walks toward me. “This is beyond anything I imagined or expected for this hotel. You did good, son. You did real fucking good.”
Wait…what?
“You’re happy with it?” I ask, and he nods.
“I one hundred percent approve,” he says, and slowly, a smile crests his normally straight and firm lips. “And I’m proud of you.”
“You’re proud of me?” I question dumbly, but fuck, Trent Tucker Senior is never proud of his son.
Disappointed? Irritated? Riding his ass? All the fucking time.
But proud? I can’t remember the last time that happened.
“Of course I am.” His smile grows. “I know you worked hard. I know you had some serious revelations about what it takes to run a team on a project of this magnitude. But you learned and you grew during the process, and that was all I ever wanted.”
Slack-jawed, I don’t even know what to say.
But it doesn’t matter because my dad apparently has plenty of words for the both of us.
“Running Turner Properties is all I’ve ever wanted for you, Trent,” he says. “It’s been my dream since the day you were born. But I know what it takes to run a company like this, and before I could pass the torch to you, before I could finally retire and spend the rest of my days with your mother, I needed to make sure you were ready. I needed to make sure you could handle it on your own.” He pauses briefly and looks around the terrace. “This company is important to me. I’ve sacrificed a lot to get it where it is today.”
“I know you have, Dad.”
“But now, I’m confident it’s in good hands.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s time,” he says. “It’s time for me to step down and let a new, talented, and innovative generation take over. And you are more than capable of filling those shoes.”
He looks up at the hotel and then back at me.
“And by the looks of what you’ve created here, you are more capable than I am to create the kind of hotels that go with the times. The kind of hotels that will keep Turner Properties a household name with old and new generations.”
“Wow. I really don’t know what to say.”
“Besides signing the contracts my lawyer has already drawn up, you don’t need to say anything.”
“You’re serious?”
He nods and steps forward to wrap me in a manly kind of hug. The one where it’s half-hug, half-backslap, and one hundred percent my father. “I admire you, Trent, and everything you’ve created here. And I’m excited and more than ready to watch you continue on this path. But from the sidelines, preferably on a tropical beach somewhere with your mom.”