Page 118 of False God

“Fine. The house is listing on tomorrow. Realtor expects it will move fast.”

“Good. And the investors?”

“Nothing solid,” I admit.

I narrowed the options down to three before leaving for France. Before making a final decision, I’d like to get Louis Haywood’s opinion. I know he’s familiar with at least one of the companies.

Gran sniffs. “You need to start considering alternatives, Charles.”

“Whatalternatives?”

“You’re the Duke of Manchester. There isn’t a woman in the country who would turn down a proposal. Find a wealthy one, and this unfortunate situation will be a worry of the past.”

I exhale, studying my clasped palms.

Her suggestion isn’t a surprise. Even forgetting the urgency of the financial situation, I’ve always known I’d need to have kids to pass the title to. Something I don’t really care about, honestly, but Gran sure does. My dad did too. And no matter how mad I am at my father—about a long list of things—I’ve never been able to fully shake the compulsion to take his opinion into consideration.

“I’m not ready to get married.”

Seven years. I was supposed to have seven years of freedom left, same as my father.

“Are you ready to declare bankruptcy? To loseeverything?”

I flinch, but they’re fair shots.

In the fifteen months since my father died, I’ve failed to find any lasting solution. I’m not a businessman who understands strategy and investments and market shares. I was supposed to be a doctor.

“Charlie, the doctor’s here.”

Blythe walks into the room, a white coat–clad man right behind her. He introduces himself as Dr. Wallace, then tells Gran they’d like to take her down for an electrocardiogram to assess any heart problems that might have led to her stroke.

She’s wheeled out a few minutes later, leaving me and Blythe alone in the sterile room that smells like antiseptic.

“You okay?” Blythe tilts her head as she studies me.

For the first time, it feels like my little sister is older than me. She looks poised while I feel like I’m falling apart.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

She nods, and we sit in silence, waiting for Gran to come back.

28

“There’s my girl!” Dad exclaims as soon as the door swings open.

“Hey, Dad.” My voice comes out muffled since he’s already pulled me into a tight hug and my face is now smooshed against his chest.

I got lunch with my mom two days ago, but this is the first time I’ve seen my dad since I got back to New York. Based on his reaction, you’d think we’d been separated for months.

He kisses the top of my head and then releases me. “How are you? Mom said you had a good trip?”

“I’m good. And, yeah, the trip was great. Did she show you the photos I sent?”

“She sure did,” Dad confirms. “Made me miss Europe. We’ve been talking about taking a trip to Italy. This fall, once football season has started? Will you be around?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply. “I’m still figuring out my next project.”

Dad nods. “Well, keep it in mind. Your mom is in the living room.”

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