Page 156 of The Rebel

If I could, I would.

The thought of a dirty martini made my mouth water.

But since I couldn’t have anything stronger than a mocktail, I attempted to fill my lungs and sat beside my father, my brothers spaced out across the sectional with several cushions between them.

I glanced at my siblings. “I can’t remember the last time the four of us got together like this.”

“It’s been too long,” Ridge said.

I nodded. “I agree.”

And the thought gutted me.

That we’d gotten to this place. That Rhett’s feelings were so strong.

That things felt so broken.

“Where’s Daisy?” I asked Ridge. “I’m dying for one of her hugs.”

“With Mom,” Ridge replied.

“I asked Ridge not to bring her because the four of us need to have a serious talk,” Dad said. “It’s difficult for me to say this, but I realize I’ve made a huge mistake, and I want to apologize.”

I couldn’t recall a single time in my life when my father had apologized for anything.

His tone, his choice of words—I was shocked.

I turned my body to face him. “What are you talking about, Dad?”

“The merger,” he replied. “I gave you little to no explanation. One day, it was business as usual. The next, you’re finding out we’re partnering with a family you’ve despised your entire life.” He sighed. “That’s my fault. I’m to blame for this.”

Rhett laughed. “And you decide to say this to us now? Not then? Not when it mattered most? So, for all this time, you’ve dragged us through something none of us wanted without giving us any explanation?—”

“Yes,” my father said, cutting him off. “That’s precisely what I did, and I just apologized for it. I told you I made a mistake. I’m owning up to it.”

I put my hand on my dad’s leg. “Why don’t you tell us how it all transpired? Maybe if we understand the how and the why, we’ll deal with it better as a family.” As I spoke, I looked directly at Rhett.

He was fuming. Even his cheeks were red.

His anger was boiling, and I knew that was from his unanswered questions.

I felt it too. We just let things affect us differently.

“I’ll get to that,” my father said. “First, I want to explain my history with Walter Spade, something I’ve also never told you before.” He lifted the glass of water and took a sip. “Walter and I used to work together at a swanky Beverly Hills hotel. We were eighteen years old, alternating between bellhop and valet. If you can believe it, Walter was my very best friend.”

Rhett hissed out some air. “No, I can’t believe it.”

“Until we were twenty-one, we were practically inseparable. During our lunch and dinner breaks, we’d talk about our goal of buying a hotel together. We both lived at home, and we saved every dollar we made to get us to that goal. Except a month after my twenty-first birthday, everything changed.” When he shifted in his seat, a look came across his face that told me he was in pain.

“Archie, one of our regulars, was checking in, and I was his favorite bellhop. I was bringing up his luggage, and we got to talking, which we did every time he came to the hotel, as often as once a month. But this conversation turned more personal, and he asked what I wanted my life to look like in ten years.” He gazed toward the windows, a view that overlooked the large pool out back. “I told him I wanted to own not one, but two hotels by the time I was thirty. And he asked how I was going to make that happen.” A small grin came across his face. “So, I told him the pact I’d made with Walter, who he knew because Walter and I worked the same shifts.” Still holding the water, he returned it to the table. “He told me about his business and how it had started with a partner, a good friend of his, and how it had destroyed their friendship, and he’d eventually bought out his friend. And he warned me that this would happen with Walter.”

“I remember you mentioning Archie before,” I offered. “Isn’t he the one who left you the collection of cars when he passed, and that helped fund your second hotel?”

Dad nodded. “That’s the one.”

“I know the history of Cole International,” Ridge said, “so I know you listened to his advice. Why?”

“Why?” my father repeated, linking his fingers. “What I learned by working in those two departments is that there’s a big difference between having money and wanting money. That man had money. He’d done something right to earn it. So, when he spoke, I listened. Over the next six months, he called me regularly and became my mentor, and at some point, he offered to help me finance my first hotel.”

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