Page 189 of The Wife Situation

While we were away, I noticed something had changed inside him. Or maybe he’d been like that for a while. The day I returned from traveling for six months, I met Lexi, and she’s been my focus ever since. I feel like a shitty brother, like I haven’t been there for him as he navigates through this messy divorce.

“I’m going to try to hang out more,” I say, not wanting him to lose himself.

Over the decades, Weston has never let me spiral when things didn’t go as I had planned. My brother is always there for me; I haven’t given him the same kindness.

His face softens and he grins. “I’d like that.”

I won’t pry again until he’s ready to talk, but I know something is happening in his private life. However, he’s been guarding himself after dealing with his toxic ex. She tried to strip him of everything he was—confidence and heart. It’s one reason I was shocked he coaxed Lexi into joining him the night he had her meet me at The Garage. Feels like forever ago.

Weston dates often, but he’s been off his game since Lena.

He pretended for me. He knew Lexi was my match.

As soon as Weston and I enter the building, Taelor stops us. She notices the twinning immediately. Everyonealwaysdoes.

“Your father is searching for both of you,” she says, not meeting our eyes. “He instructed you to wait for him in his office—right now.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’m not permitted to say.”

Her words don’t give me hope.

I glance at Weston and we walk to the opposite side of the building. I’m exhausted from being away from home andtraveling, then the party last night, which I appreciated so damn much.

Afterward, I stayed up most of the night with Lexi, making love, then I held her in my arms until we fell asleep. No regrets, and the smile on my face says as much. I might be tired, but I feel like I’m on top of the world.

“Did we miss a memo?” I ask, noticing how no one glances in our direction when we make eye contact.

Weston walks beside me, just as confused.

He can also feel the vibes are off. I don’t need this during the final days of the transition.

This week, I am scheduled to spend time with my father as he ties up loose ends. Saturday, we’re supposed to throw a company party, a farewell, on his last official day.

Monday, I will be CEO, and I’m fucking ready. For over a decade I’ve followed in my father’s footsteps, assuming I’d take this position. But so has Derrick.

However, I fulfilled my contractual duties just in time. It’s proof that love conquers all.

“Maybe Dad wants to congratulate us for doing what the board wanted, butbetter,” Weston offers.

It’s a nice thought, but I know better.

“I doubt that,” I say, knowing we don’t get thank-yous.

Being Calloways, the heirs to a multibillion-dollar business, comes with the expectation of being unstoppable. Thank-yous aren’t given for doing what should’ve been done. We were sent because we could make impossible deals happen. Call it charisma, call it luck, but it comes with being a Calloway.

I allow Weston to enter first. We sit next to one another in seats in front of the famous Calloway desk. I want to run my fingers across the intricacies of the carved logo, but I don’t.

After a few more minutes pass, I glance down at my watch; it’s barely past seven.

This feels off, but I blame my tiredness. We’ve worked nonstop, and maybe that’s by design; the last test my father set up for us to see if we can handle it.

At fifteen past seven, he enters with wild hair on his head. The door slams as he rushes to his desk. My father resembles a goddamn supervillain as he interlocks his fingers, looking between us. I watch him, wondering if I’m like him—cold at times and charming when he needs to be.

The same blue eyes that Weston and I have glare back at us. He’s undeniably mad. I haven’t seen him like this in years.

“Do you know how long we have until I retire?” my father asks. He’s being stern.

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