Page 9 of Worlds Collide

Most of the properties—seriously, who the fuck needs twenty houses?—including the San Francisco house I grew up in will be sold immediately. That house is the coldest place on the planet as far as I’m concerned, so never going back there is something to celebrate, not mourn.

Everything that’s in the stock market, which amounts to a total of twenty-two billion, one hundred and sixteen thousand, eight hundred and ninety-six dollars as of July seventh of the current year—seriously can this go any slower?

Then come the cars—so many fucking cars.

The art—which will all be donated immediately to wherever Carter tells me it should go and some sculptures that will be in Sebas’ capable hands and in his gallery—which is getting a security upgrade at his insistence.

Then it’s Grandma’s jewelry—going to an auction house.

The plane—because of fucking course there’s a plane—will be sold.

Three yachts—all in different parts of the world, California, St. Johns, and Italy—that will be on the market too before the day is over.

Once it’s all said and done, Mr. Green asks if there will be anything else, and I nod at him but look over at my parents.

“You can go.”

I make sure to speak mildly, they don’t even deserve the effortof sounding cold, and I see how hard they have to work at keeping their expressions passive, but they leave without a word.

I curse myself for expecting them to saysomething. Of course they won’t say anything.

That’s what they’ve been my whole damn life—not even a hello on my birthday. I wish it didn’t make me feel anything, but I still have some pity left in me for the little kid who only wanted his parents to love him, and he still lives inside me, so I swallow quickly to get over the bout of sadness.

Carl Sounders and Mary Anne Clemson-Sounders have no use for me now. My existence only bought them twenty-eight years, so why would they pay me any more attention now than they ever have?

Why would they wish me a happy birthday when they never have?

Of course they won’t.

Duke passes Mr. Green a single sheet of paper which states that he’s done being the trustee and the Alton firm is taking over.

He signs it with a deep sigh then leaves the room, clearly resigned to losing the account—maybe he’ll finally retire.

Duke and I don’t speak as we get all the papers inside a locked briefcase and leave the firm, and I tell myself to let go of any feelings for my parents—even the bad ones.

I can’t let them cast a shadow over another second of my life because now I need to do the most important thing for myself.

The most important step.

Time to becomeCJ.

I’m waitingfor the plane to leave the gate when I finally give in. I need to hear their voices. I need to hear them tell me I’m doing the right thing and that I’m not a horrible person.

I press the phone to my ear and close my eyes while the call rings.

“How are you, son?” Peter Darnell asks me in that quintessential fatherly voice. “Diana come here,” I hear him call out from afar. He clearly pulled the phone away from his mouth.

“Hey.”Dad, I want to add, though I don’t. As much as I’ve wished for it, Peter and Diana Darnell are not my parents. Adam, Kevin, and Elliott aren’t my brothers.

They all treat me like I’m as much a part of their family as any of them are—including Peter’s extended family—and I’ll be forever grateful that they do, but I’m not really.

“CJ?” Peter asks softly. I didn’t answer his question because I don’t know. But because it’s Peter, and because I hear Diana’s footsteps, I know I can tell them.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Where are you, baby?” she asks me, and my heart melts.

“I’m on the plane already, just waiting for everyone to get in so we can take off.”

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