Page 36 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

For a moment, he seemed lost in thought. Then he said, “Growing up, I had a friend who came from extreme wealth. He had nannies and chefs and drivers and pilots. A whole staff.”

Heat rushed up her neck, and she dropped her gaze.That’s me. He’s describing me.

But his tone held no judgment. “So, one day—I must’ve been thirteen? Fourteen? Something like that—my dad told me I couldn’t go out with my friends until I folded the laundry, and I got pissy with him. I asked why we didn’t hire someone to do our chores like Cole’s dad did. And my dad—he never got ruffled. He just spoke his truth quietly and firmly. Anyhow, he told me that while we could afford a housekeeper, he never wanted to lose touch with his own life. He wanted to make his own meals and water his own plants.”

“But if he’d hired someone to do those things, he’d have had more time to be with his family or pursue a hobby.”

He broke into a shy grin. “I played hockey, remember? Iwasmy dad’s hobby. But I get what you’re saying. He just believed the reason society was spiraling out of control—conglomerates, bad politicians, crime, entitled attitudes—was because we kept moving further from the things that matter.”

“Explain.” Because he was talking about her. She’d thought the only thing that mattered was her success. How many people downloaded her song. Whether she won the Grammy. How many people bought tickets for a show. So, chores like cleaning a toilet? Grating cheese? Who cared whether she hired someone to do it or bought a bag of shredded cheddar at the grocery store?

Her mom had trained her to believe someone else did the trivial stuff so that she could concentrate on what mattered: Success. Money.

“Okay.” He made a fist. “This is the core of your life. Fucking, eating, bathing, interacting with friends and family. If you’re doing that, you’re tethered to your essential humanity. The further away from that you get…” He made circles around the fist with his other hand, slowly moving out. “The more you’re focused on money, fame, success, fancy cars, houses, jewelry, the less tied in you are to your values and morals. You start to care less about being a good person, spouse, parent, and employee. You lose sight of the whole reason we’re put on this earth together.”

“That’s powerful.”

“You can’t really lose your essential humanity when you’re washing dishes and getting stains out of your pants. If you think you’re too good to clean a toilet, then you obviously believe the person you hire to do is somehow beneath you. And that’s just not true. If you strip it all away, we’re all human beings who fuck, eat, bathe, and create relationships with friends and family.”

“I’m the person your dad was talking about.” She made a fist. “I didn’t have any of this. The only thing I cared about was my success.” Awareness struck like a flash of light. “And that’s how the people closest to me could betray me. I’d completely lost touch with the core of my life.”

“Well, I think it’s more that it explains how they could betray you. They losttheircore. Or they were just born rotten. But anyhow, to answer your original question, I cook because it’s something my dad and I did together but also, because I want to stay grounded and attached to the things that matter.”

And yet, he wasn’t with his mom for Christmas, and he didn’t have a girlfriend or wife. “Well, as someone who’s very much not in touch with her own life, I can promise you, I’ll take your dad’s advice to heart.” She touched him again, though she needed to stop doing that. “Your dad sounds like he was a good man.”

He had an almost panicked expression. “Except, he wasn’t really my father.”

ChapterEight

The words flew outof Slick’s mouth. His eyes went wide, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

Whoa. She gave him a minute before saying, “I’m not sure I understand.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never told anyone. Well, except George.”

“George?”

“My colleague.” He waved a hand dismissively. “After my dad died, I had to handle some affairs for my mom. And while I was digging through paperwork, I found adoption papers. They were never filed, so I asked my mom about it. She said she met my dad when she was pregnant.”

“And they never told you?” That was wild.

“My dad treated me like his own from the start, so they never saw a reason to.” He poured the coffee into the mugs.

“What about the adoption papers?”

“They never saw a reason to file those, either. She said I was his son, and that was all that mattered.”

“Wow. That must’ve rocked your world.”

“Yeah, it did. My relationship with my mom hasn’t been the same since.” His shoulders sagged. “I guess that’s on me.”

It was obvious he carried a lot of guilt about that. “When did this happen?”

“A couple years ago.”

“Well… that’s big news.” She poured her milk and two teaspoons of sugar into her mug and stirred. “I don’t know how anyone would process that.”

Should she tell him about her similar experience? That she’d lived a lie most of her life thanks to her mom, her boyfriend, and her best friend? It sliced through her again, and she had to wonder if it would ever stop. Would it always feel like ripping off scabs?

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