Page 2 of Drunk on You

Just before my college graduation, Mom asked him for a divorce, but he begged her to give him another chance, swearing things would be different. Of course, she agreed—because he was the only man she’d ever loved—but while they were at dinner a couple of weeks after my graduation, he proved tigers couldn’t change their stripes. I don’t know all the details, but from what he said, there was an issue that came up with work that he had to deal with. She got annoyed that he was ignoring her by texting and taking calls during their meal, and she stormed out of the restaurant.

As she stepped onto the sidewalk, a car came out of nowhere—a drunk driver who lost control and barreled right up onto the sidewalk—and hit her. Dad was behind her and saw the entire thing. He called 911 and held her in his arms, but she died before they made it there.

After losing my mom, who had also been my best friend, I took off to England, got my MBA in hospitality, and went to work for Benson Liquor, becoming one of their lead marketing analysts.

My dad and I didn’t speak for several years—not for his lack of trying—but on the third anniversary of Mom’s death, he left me a message, begging to talk. So, I gave in.

It’s been three years, and we usually talk once or twice a month. I hate the distance between us, and I know my dad isn’t the one who killed her, but a part of me can’t help but blame him.

“And how is work?” Dad asks conversationally.

“Busy,” I say back. “You know, trying to create a future for myself.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my tone.

I’m exhausted. I’ve been working sixty-plus hours a week for the past several years, hoping to work my way up the corporate ladder. I always thought I’d end up working with my dad, but after everything went down and I left, he never once asked me to come home and work for his company. Hell, he won’t even discuss business with me.

“I don’t want to mix business with family,” is what he says anytime I bring up anything business related.

Whenever anyone asks, he always says he misses me but is proud of me for spreading my wings and flying.

“Life’s too short,” he says, making me roll my eyes. “You should focus on finding happiness.”

This isn’t the first time he’s said this, but today, after I had to deal with Victoria, his words hit harder.

“Says the man who was married to his work,” I mutter.

“Exactly,” he agrees. “Which means I know what it’s like to give something your everything and lose everyone that matters because of it.”

A lump of emotion lodges in my throat at his admittance, but I manage to swallow it down. He made his decisions, and now, we all have to live with them.

“Speaking of which,” he adds when I don’t say anything in return, “Selene and I are hosting Thanksgiving this year. I know it’s quite a few months away, but I was hoping with enough notice, you could put in for time off and come visit. I can pay for your flight.”

Selene is his new wife. They met a little over a year ago, and within six months, they were married. I have nothing against her—I haven’t even met her yet—but the thought of getting to know her feels like I would be betraying my mom.

“You know I can pay for my own flight.”

I make a decent living, working at Benson—even if Victoria won’t listen to a word I have to say. But even if I didn’t, I’m worth millions, thanks to the money and assets left to me from my mom when she died and the trust my dad set up for me. But I’ve never touched the money he gave me. I feel like if I do, then I have to completely let him back in, and I’m just not ready to do that yet.

“I know,” he murmurs. “It’s just … I miss you, Anastasia. And I’d love for you to meet Selene. What if we came to you?”

“I can’t,” I choke out. “Work is busy during that time. Maybe after the first of the year. I have to go.”

Without waiting for him to respond, I click End on the call and throw my phone on the desk. Then, with my face in my hands, I let out a cathartic sob, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability before I slip my shield back on.

“So, any chance of you moving back to Texas?” Paige asks just before she snatches up a piece of sushi and pops it into her mouth.

“And why would I do that?” I ask, taking a bite of my food.

Once she’s done chewing, she washes it down with a sip of sake and then leans in. “Um, because the owner and CEO of Kingston Limited, who just so happens to be your father, has announced he’s retiring at the end of the year. I figured that was why he called you.”

Despite choosing to use my mother’s maiden name, Webb, so I wouldn’t have people thinking I was using his name to get further in the business world, I’ve allowed one person to know who I really am—Paige. It took a while before I completely let her in, but I knew she’d never tell a soul.

“He what?” I gasp, having no damn clue what she’s talking about.

“He didn’t tell you?” Her brows pinch together in confusion.

“No! Are you sure?”

The man I know would never step down. He lives and breathes Kingston Limited.

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