Every night, I held my phone, desperately wanting to call Adam to see if he was okay, but I didn’t. He needed to face his pain. He needed to face his family. And he needed to do it without me asking.
Adam hadn’t responded to anyone’s calls or messages, but we knew he was alive, because the papers told us so. After Grayson threw the latest article into the fire, I found the short piece on the internet.
NO REST FOR THE WICKED
Following the death of William Harlow II, his grandson, Adam Harlow, has thrown himself back into work. While the rest of his family grieves at a private residence, Adam has wasted no time resuming his lead role at Harlow Corp.
A private funeral will be held tomorrow in the Hamptons, but the question remains, will Adam be attending? Or is he really the cold-hearted business man we’re led to believe?
The energy in the house changed the night before Liam’s funeral. Anxiety over imminent goodbyes and resentment toward the man who hadn’t returned had everyone on edge.
“Everything ready for tomorrow?” Josie asked, standing in my doorway.
I closed my laptop after going over my to-do list one last time. “Yes, I think it is.”
“Good. Then, you can have dinner with us.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll grab something later.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. Max is preparing Gramps’ favorite meal, and you don’t want to upset Max, do you?”
“No, I don’t want to do that. I’ll see you down there.”
Max had been an incredible help over the last week. He knew Liam better than most and assisted me with everything I needed. Although his loss was evident, he transferred his sorrow into action. He had the house immaculately cleaned, the beautiful gardens tended to, and the caterers well-versed on the requirements for the wake.
Silence fell over the dinner table when the distinct sound of the front door opening and closing traveled down the hallway. Wide-eyed gazes zigzagged around the table as footsteps approached then slowed outside the double doors.
Alerted to the new arrival, Max marched across the dining room and opened the doors to find Adam standing in the hall. “Mr. Harlow, just in time. I’ll prepare a place for you at the table.”
Adam moistened his dry lips. “Thank you, Max.”
“So, you finally decided to show,” Grayson grumbled as he shoved a large piece of steak into his mouth.
“There will be none of that, William.” Caroline stood and kissed Adam’s cheek. “We’re all glad you’re back.”
Adam’s eyes met mine over her shoulder, but I tore my gaze away. I was angry at his refusal to face his emotions and feared his impulse to run when life got hard. I couldn’t have that in my life.
“Not everyone, it seems.” He released his mother to shake his father’s hand.
Grayson shook his head. “Well, it would’ve been nice if you’d stuck around to help me write the eulogy.”
“I wrote my own.”
Josie placed her hand on Grayson’s arm as his fingers turned white around his cutlery. “Leave it,” she whispered, dousing his flames.
Max seated Adam in the empty space beside me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. The room had filled with an unstable energy, and I was holding my breath, waiting for it to diffuse or erupt.
“I don’t see the problem,” Adam said, igniting the fire in his brother’s eyes.
Grayson slammed his knife and fork down. “Are you kidding me? We talked about this. We agreed to write it together.”
Josie rubbed her husband’s back. “You should’ve told him, Adam.”
“Well, I’ve been busy. Some of us have real businesses to run.”
Grayson snarled. “Fuck you.”
“Boys! That’s enough!” Caroline yelled. “You both need to calm down. Your grandfather would be disgusted.”