Page 23 of The Paradise Problem

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin with that. He’s a great kid. His parents are unbearable.”

“I would imagine.”

“Kellan and Charlie met at USC. They’re great together. He works for his parents’ industrial glassware company and she’s a VP in the Weston Foods commercial group.”

“Sorry—how old is she?”

“Twenty-three.”

“And a VP?”

“Raymond Weston never met a nepo baby he didn’t like.”

“You’re—what? Thirty? Thirty-one? You’d be the head of something, too, then, right?”

“Thirty-one. And yes.” I drag a hand down my face. “As I said, my father eventually wanted me to take over the CEO role, but had I joined the company, I would have currently been the chief operations officer.”

“What’s that?”

“A COO is second in command. The role implements strategies into daily operations.” Off her blank look, I say, “I would have overseen store logistics and managed all of our tech advances.”

“Tech? But you’re an anthropologist. That seems… like not the right fit.”

I take a beat to steady my pulse and figure out how to answer this. “I grew up obsessed with computers,” I say, “and even developed some software for the family when I was younger.”

“But you aren’t doing that now?”

“I still like tinkering with programming, but my interests moved away from computers after…” I pause, amending, “In college. Now I have a joint appointment in economics and anthropology.” I’ve told her this before, but at least this time, she’s mostly sober. “My research is on sociological anthropology, specifically the ethics and behavior of people working within a corporation, but also how a good business does not encourage a one-size-fits-all approach. How microcultures within corporations can be a positive thing and contribute to the broader company culture, how they make employees feel more valued and seen.”

“So you’re definitely not being chased through the jungle, then, you little liar.”

“It’s all boring family dynasty shit,” I tell her.

“Nothing boring involves the word dynasty.”

“Here’s what my wife would know,” I say, redirecting. “She would know that I don’t like my father’s way of doing things. She would know that my grandfather was a little eccentric.”

“Eccentric. Another word only rich people use. For the rest of us, I believe the word is nutty.”

“That fits, too. But I adored him,” I continue. “My wife would know that if he were still alive and running things, I might have stayed with the family business. She would know that I don’t like to talk about what happened between my father and me. So much so that I haven’t seen my parents since around the time we got married.”

“So, something specifically happened that sent you as far away from your family as possible?”

“Yes, but she would also know to leave it alone.”

“And my husband would know that I wouldn’t marry someone who keeps enormous secrets,” she counters.

I turn, meeting her eyes. “My parents have never once talked about it, so trust me, they’ll have no problem believing that we don’t talk about it, either.” I blink away, fixing my gaze on the back of the seat in front of me.

I can feel her staring a beat longer before she turns away to hand her empty flute to the flight attendant. Anna returns her focus to me. “Okay, what else?”

“What else what?”

At this, she laughs. “What else do I need to know about you, West?”

“Just… make up whatever you want.”

“No way. If you don’t get paid, I don’t get paid. Tell me something. Some things. Hobbies? Favorite foods? Ticklish spots? Secret kinks? I should know you better than anyone if we’re married, right?” She jerks away, as if she’s just remembered something. “Oh, shit.”

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