Page 133 of False God

Lili’s father nods, stopping beside me to take in the same limited view. “I’m looking forward to winter. Been a little while since I experienced one here.” He glances at me. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

“I’m Charles Marlborough. We met at the Fourth of July party in the Hamptons.”

“That’s it.” Crew snaps his fingers. “Nice to see you again. Had to be a bit awkward for you.”

I stare at him, totally taken aback. If Lili told her father what I said about her, there’s no way he’d be aiming a friendly smile toward me right now.

“Because you’re British,” Crew clarifies.

I must look confused.

“Oh,” I realize.

“Sorry. Dad joke.” He sips from the glass tumbler he’s holding. “What do you do, Charles?”

I decide to be honest. “Right now, I’m trying to figure out how much I care about doing exactly what my father wanted me to do.”

“Ah, parental expectations.” Crew smiles. “Been there. Your old man used to pulling all the strings?”

“He was.”

“Was? Is he …”

I nod. “He died last year.”

“Very sorry to hear that. Sounds like he left you with a lot.”

“In some senses.”

A lot of stress? Guilt? Uncertainty? Expectations? All yeses.

Money? Advice? Support? Love? Not really on any of that.

“My father manipulated me and my brother for years. Pitted us against each other. Made everything a competition and changed the rules whenever he felt like it. At one point, I left.Turned my back on most of what he’d wanted for me and walked away, just to prove I could.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No. But I’m not sure I’d do it the same way all over again.” He looks down, swishing amber liquid around in his glass. The huge cube of ice clinks against the side. “Leaving didn’t make me care any less about what he thought. Didn’t make us any closer or me any freer from his expectations. Or keep my father from making his opinions about my choices known.”

“At least I don’t have to worry about that last part,” I say.

Crew chuckles. “True.”

“Charles! You made it!” Asher Cotes is strolling toward us, the wide smile on his face evidence of the perpetual cheer I’ve come to associate with him. “And good, you’ve met Crew.”

“We’ve met before,” Crew says. “At Josephine’s celebration of his countrymen no longer running this place.”

I smile wryly.

Lili might look like her mother, but she shares her dad’s sense of humor.

“Way to be a terrible host, Crew,” Asher says. “Ask about soc—I mean, football instead.”

“You follow football?” Crew asks me.

“Only Premier League,” I tell him. “You should have bought part of Man U rather than AC Milan.”

Crew smiles. “Who told you I own part of AC Milan?”

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