Page 68 of Take It Offline

So I play. “Easy, the flavors are bold and complex. Concentrated. From the left bank. It’s too focused for the right.”

The closer I get to the answer, the bigger his grin gets, and it’s as infectious now as it was when I was nine. By the time I’ve finished, I’m grinning too.

I forgot how fun this was.

“I’m going to guess Château Margaux.”

“Excellent!” He claps, drawing the attention of several people mingling near us. “Charlie, isn’t she amazing?”

“And more.” Charlie is giving me a strange look. I’d almost call it fond, if that were ever something I could imagine him feeling toward me.

“See?” Dad continues. “This is why you’d be such an asset to the foundation. With your business acumen, you could be a titan.”

“Nana did all the girlbossing this family needs, Dad.”

“And she’d be as proud as I am to see how you’re forging your own path. I know it hasn’t been easy on you, but you’ve handled it with a grace and strength few could. I wish I could take credit for it, but you’ve always been a singularly bright star.”

Speechless, I sip my wine and will myself not to cry.

This is why I do anything I can for my parents. Because they’re good people, and they’ve always tried to be good parents.

Once, we spent a whole day setting up a train set in one of the guest rooms, goading each other to see who could make the most elaborate track. Dad won (more like cheated) when he boosted his track over mine with non-traditional parts.

Of the three of us, he’s the out-of-the-box thinker.

“You continue to impress and inspire me,” Dad says.

The time we spent together was priceless. Because he didn’t work, he got to stay home and have fun with me.

He might be an odd duck, but I’m lucky to be his duckling.

A little nudge from Charlie alerts me that Logan is coming over. When I reach for his hand, he squeezes back, and the tight feeling in my chest loosens.

“Now, Charlie,” my father says, as though they’re old friends and not complete strangers. “I’ve noticed you don’t have a drink. What can I get you?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing. Why don’t you walk me to the bar and tell me more about this wine?”

Dad’s already launching into his speech before they leave.

Since I last saw him, I’ve considered that maybe I made up Logan’s reaction. Let my imagination show me what I wanted to see, that he missed me, that he too wondered what could have been.

The worry followed me all the way up the drive, into the house, and onto the terrace tonight. But the moment Charlie and my father step away, Logan is slipping in to fill the gap. The air barely has time to go cold before he’s stepping in closer than is polite and lingering at my side.

“You’re a vision,” he says.

I forgot how grandiose Logan’s compliments can be. It’s a skill we’re taught to master early, and we’re expected to always have them at the ready. If you can’t be the first to fire one off, make sure to best it. I never quite got the hang of it—too honest, too concerned with saying something genuine—but Logan is a natural.

“Aren’t you sweet,” I say, because the only thing worse in high society than not getting a compliment is actually accepting one. “Violet’s done a wonderful job with the party.”

“I heard we have your mother to thank for this,” he says.

A sharp spike of panic hits me, but I cover it quickly with a smile. It’s just a turn of phrase. Of course Violet wouldn’t openly take credit.Relax.I focus on how warm and steady Charlie’s hand felt on my back, and it’s easier to breathe.

“How—”

“Are—”

We both chuckle.

---