Page 113 of Daring You

29

Ben

When I puton a suit the next day and stand in front of my mirror, adjusting my basic, navy tie, I stare at the boy I would’ve been.

If I’d grown up as Ryan Delaney in a working class home, with parents grinding their fingers to the bone to provide for me, I wonder if I would’ve been the same.

Tim and Rose Delaney loved me. They cared in the way that doting parents do—I remember being fed with clean clothes, given a room with toys, Mom kissing me at bedtime, bath time, and whenever the urge struck her. Dad throwing his arm around my shoulders while we were on the couch, screaming at the TV during Sunday Night Football.

The Donahues are upper-class. Mom quit her job to raise me. I had apple slices and cookies ready every time I came home from school, making my buddies extremely jealous. I never requested apple juice. I’m wondering if maybe, I refused it.

Both sets of parents started off with one thing: love for a little boy. One set was given the gift; the other had it cruelly ripped away.

As I blink at my reflection in the mirror, locking my jaw from displaying any further emotion, I hope the Delaneys would be proud of me, and proud of the Donahues for raising me the way they did.

I blow out a breath as it hits me that I’m going to have to talk to Mom and Pops at some point about all this. And I really don’t know where to start.

“How about, I love you. Start there,” I murmur to the mirror.

My legs get jittery. I do a shuffle, exactly like I do in the locker room before a big game, shaking out my arms, my legs, dispelling the tense energy in my neck.

This is the biggest game of my life.

Astor said she’d meet me downtown, so I take a car there and once I arrive, I’m ushered through security. It’s 6 a.m. and the building is sparse, exactly what’s intended.

The arrangements occurred shortly after Astor and I’s meet yesterday. I had to cut happy hour short with Ash and East, but they didn’t seem to mind. Carter and Sophie had joined us at that point. They seemed a group ready to swig shots when I left, making it easy to duck out without raising suspicion.

Astor texted me long into the night, and kept me on the phone for a while, detailing what the next morning will bring. She also had to contact Aiden and present a formal request to interview. These people didn’t want to waste any time—at least, that’s what Astor says. And she’s my expert right now. She’s my fucking knight in shining armor.

I want to be hers.

Grunting the thought out of my consciousness, I find her waiting for me at the reception desk, in front of an intimidating glass wall.

A few people are striding back and forth on the carpeted hallway on the other side, carrying folders and mugs and shit like that.

I’m staring straight at the competitor’s playbook, Astor’s prepped me enough to know each and every move the other side’s gonna make. I should be pumped and about to explode.

“You ready?” she asks as I approach.

“Glass is see-through. I see everything going on back there. Suits scurrying around. Why’s it so intimidating when I see what’s coming?”

“You’re nervous.”

“Fucking right I am.”

She cups both sides of my face and holds me steady within her bright, bold blue eyes. “I’ve explained everything that will happen in there. There will be no surprises.”

“My whole life is a surprise.”

“Then it’s finally within your control,” she replies without a hitch.

I nod. “I’m ready.”

“Good. Follow me.”

I swamp the beanpole men that scamper out of our way as Astor leads me to where this deposition is going to happen. I assume it’s the spot where the Assistant District Attorney, Spencer Rolfe, is standing, arms folded behind him like he’s a butler or an assassin. I can’t tell which.

“Mr. Donahue,” he says, holding out his hand. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am you’ve agreed to this.”

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