Page 155 of The Rebel

I took off my suit coat and rested it over the back of the couch, my arms pressed against my knees. “I want to know why you and Ray had it out for each other. What caused this wholegoddamn mess in the first place. And I want to know why, out of nowhere, you wanted the companies to merge.”

Walter crossed his legs, but never broke our stare. “Why does it matter? The past is in the past.”

“I understand that your generation isn’t the strongest communicators, but my generation doesn’t have that problem. We overshare. And as partners, we have the right to know what instigated this.” As I took a break, I scanned the room, remembering all the business chats that had gone down in this exact spot over the years. “Most importantly, when Rowan and I bring our baby into this world, we want support from both sides. I’m not confident that we’ll get that from the Coles.”

“I see.” Walter’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like congratulations are in order.”

“It is?—”

There was noise at the door, the twisting of the handle, opening just enough for Ray to walk through.

“Gentlemen,” he said as he shut the door behind him. He shook both of our hands, and he took a seat on the chair that was to the side of the couches.

I addressed him and said, “Thank you for joining us, Ray.”

His hands had a slight shake to them as they lifted off his lap and settled on the armrests. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

I stared at the man with respect, frustration, and with sympathy. “There’s a problem. I want to talk to you about it, and I want to know how you’re going to fix it.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Rowan

Icame to a halt halfway between my father’s kitchen and living room, my eyes widening, my face looking as startled as I felt.

What are they doing here?

Ridge and Rhett were plopped on the large sectional in the living room, a beer in their hands. Ridge busied himself while he looked at his phone, whereas Rhett glared right at me.

When I’d reached out to my dad last night, I’d told him that I needed to speak to him alone. This was the time he’d asked me to come over to talk.

Had he forgotten that I’d specifically said I needed to chat with him privately?

Or had he just completely ignored my request?

Regardless, there was no way I could have that talk with him now. Not with Rhett in the room. Which was another topic I’d planned to bring up once I told Dad I was pregnant.

Since that discussion wasn’t going to happen today and I wasn’t in the right mindset for what I assumed would be a volatile family reunion, I turned to head back into the kitchen tosay goodbye to Dad. Just as I did, holding the glass of water he’d previously been pouring when I came in, he walked toward me.

“I know what you wanted,” he said in a low voice, a few feet separating us. “Please understand, this is what I wanted. And it’s very important, Rowan.”

Wasn’t it important that he honored my wishes? Instead of disregarding what I’d asked for?

When I didn’t respond, he moved past me and took a seat on the couch, tapping the spot beside him. “Come sit, Rowan.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

A talk—was that what he wanted? A conversation that would only frustrate us, and we’d circle the drain until one—or all—of us left?

As much as I wanted resolution—and, my God, I did—I couldn’t handle any blowouts today.

I just didn’t have it in me.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach and said, “Dad?—”

“Please.” He set his water on the small table next to the couch. “I’ve asked your brothers here and told them I need them to listen. Now, I’m asking the same of you.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “If a drink will make you feel better, then go grab yourself one, like your brothers have.”

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