Page 36 of Paradise in Progress
As I wait for the doors to open on the penthouse floor, I undo the top few buttons of my dress shirt to cool down. There’s nothing I needmore than a drink, which is exactly what I do as soon as the car arrives. In the corner of the living room is a black bar cart lined with crystal glasses and expensive liquors. Pulling the cork on the bourbon, I pour the amber liquid into a rock glass before I carry it over to the oversized couch.
Legs spread and shirt halfway open, I rest and bring the bourbon to my lips. The urge to shoot it back is high, but good bourbon should never be shot. I know that much.
Sitting in the quiet space, I stare at the blank TV and run over not just the phone call I had with my dad but everything in my life.
The relationship between my dad and me has always been rocky. Xander was the favorite, since he was the firstborn son. He’s been destined to follow in my father’s footsteps since birth. Nelson Signature Hotels & Resorts is his whenever my father decides it’s time for him to step down from CEO.
Xander has reveled in the firstborn duties for as long as I can remember. Throughout our years in school, he took his grades seriously. Not only was he the top student in his graduating class, but when he wasn’t in school, Xander was on the green with my dad, honing his golfing skills. Dad always said that business is made on the course and not in a boardroom. He believed that it was important to harness a strong relationship on the golf course, rather than behind desks in sterile office spaces. Since Xander was next in line, the two of them would take off every Saturday morning to golf eighteen holes.
No matter how many times I asked, I was always left behind. Dad would promise we’d spend time together, but we never did. We never did a lot of things. It affected my relationship with him, but it affected my relationship with Xander even more. When I graduatedfrom NYU, I bought a penthouse overlooking Manhattan and offered Xander one of the spare rooms. When he took it, I thought that would be the olive branch we needed to develop a brotherly relationship. The two of us have, to some degree, but it’s not a relationship like most brothers.
Then there’s my father’s relationship with Victoria. I love my sister. Seriously, I do. We both give each other a lot of shit, but we have the closest bond. But when it comes to my father, Vi can do no wrong. As the baby of the family and the only daughter, she’s been wrapped around his finger since she was born. And I know that her relationship with my father hasn’t been sunshine and rainbows. He’s pushed her to be the best in more ways than one, but at the end of the day, she’s still his little girl.
And I’m stuck in the middle. The company will never be mine, and I’m okay with that. Honestly, I am. My dad and, some days, my brother, think I can’t handle the responsibility that comes with being a Nelson. But they’re wrong. Sure, I made mistakes in high school and even in college. But I’m wired differently than they are.
Making money is great, but not if that’s the only thing you’re known for. I wanted to experience life outside of New York and outside of the business. I wanted to do the typical backpacking in Europe to gain some true independence and have a taste of freedom. I wanted to live for a few years before I was chained to the company. It was never my dream to work for Nelson Signature, but I knew I never had a choice in the matter.
Dad had kids to run his company. To carry on the Nelson legacy, whatever that means.
Bringing the glass to my lips, I suck in a heavy sip and let the oakiness and vanilla burn my throat. I rest my neck on the back of the couch and take a deep breath. The elevator doors chime open as I’m exhaling, and in walks Kennedy. Copper frizz lines the outside of her red-tinged face. The humidity isn’t helping her thick hair.
She pauses just inside the penthouse and eyes me. I feel her gaze lick heat down my face and over my exposed chest, where I couldn’t be bothered to remove my shirt, opting to have it opened in a deep V. The way her eyes widen and darken to a new shade of green as she gives me a once-over. Her skin is balmy from the humidity, dark circles line her under eyes, and her shoulders are slouched. She looks nothing like her typical confident self. Instead, exhaustion and frustration radiate from her. Of course, she still looks beautiful. When doesn’t she?
Shaking her head, she marches over to the front of the U-shaped couch, where she tosses her work bag onto a cushion. But she doesn’t stop there. No, she marches straight over to where I’m sitting in the corner of the couch until she’s standing between my spread legs. I want to reach out and pull her into my lap and kiss her perfect pouty lips. But I don’t even move as I stare up at her.
Reaching forward, I think she’s going to grab a hold of me, only she bypasses my arm, going straight to the crystal tumbler in my hand. Bringing my glass to her lips, she takes a sip of the amber liquid, and I watch in amusement as her throat bobs from her swallow and she sits down on the cushion next to me. Her feet fly up to the coffee table as she toes off her sandals.
“Fuck this day,” she says with a drawn-out huff, and I can’t help but chuckle. Kennedy’s head whips in my direction, and she quirks a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “My misery brings you joy?”
“Of course not. I was just sitting here in my own misery, thinking the same damn thing.”
She lifts the glass to her lips again for another sip. I’ve never wanted to be a glass more than I do right now.
Silence falls over the room as both of us stare into space as we work through the frustrations of our days.
“Call a truce?” I ask, shocking myself.
A truce? What am I, a child?But maybe this could be the chance to have a reprieve from the tension between us. Hell, we’re stuck here in the same room. Neither one of us has our friends here to go have drinks with and bitch to.
Her head lulls in my direction as our eyes lock. “A truce?”
“Yeah. We’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future, so might as well call a truce and vent to each other.”
She shrugs. “My boss is an asshole.”
My eyes widen. “What the hell did I do to you today?”
A warm smile curves at the ends of her lips. “I like how you immediately assume it’s you. But no, I mean your lovely father.”
“What’d he do?” I ask with more of a bite than intended, sitting up taller. I swear he better not have gotten off the phone with me and called her directly.
“He called me as I was arriving back at the resort. He informed me that I need to get the permits approved by tomorrow or I can find myself a new job.”
What the fuck?
“He didn’t.”
“Oh, he did.”
