Page 44 of Fumbling for Perfection

But I’m not most sons and my parents aren’t most parents. I ring the doorbell and wait for their butler to open the door. He’s not the same one I remember from when I was a kid. I’m sure none of the help is the same.

Who the hell would want to stick around this pompous, arrogant, cold place for that long?

“May I help you?”

“Walker,” I say with an edge to my voice. It’s embarrassing that I have to introduce myself and show ID at my family home. No, not a home. It’s a fucking estate.

“Yes. This way.” I follow the damn butler through the long hallway that leads to the parlor.

The marble floor is the same cold, black flooring as I remember. The walls are white. The artwork and statues are pretentious, the chandeliers gaudy, the furniture white and uncomfortable looking.

“Margaret and your brother will be down in a moment.”

“Margaret?”

“His fiancée.”

How fucking embarrassing. I don’t even know my sister-in-law’s name. I don’t even attempt to fold my body onto the doll-house furniture and pace the room where guests wait for the lord and lady of the house to greet them.

This is so fucking stupid. I don’t have to wait here. I leave the parlor and make my way down the hall through the kitchen that’s been renovated since I was last here. Industrial sized everything in stainless steel and black granite countertops shine against the white cabinetry.

Ignoring the kitchen staff, I head to the back patio, in need of fresh air. A blonde haired woman is standing against the railing, staring out over the ocean. She’s familiar. Too familiar.

“Riley?”

She gasps and spins around, her chocolate eyes wide with surprise. “Walker? What...what are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same.” I move closer and cup her face in the palms of my hands. “You’re a welcome surprise and the only person who can make this weekend bearable.”

How she knows my family, I haven’t a clue. And right now, I really don’t care. Somehow, she always manages to erase the pain of their banishment.

“I’m supposed to play a round of golf, but I’ll gladly skip it to be with you.” I trail my hands down her arms and thread my fingers through hers.

She doesn’t normally wear jewelry, and her ring pokes my finger. I lift our joined hands and stare at the fucking diamond on her finger.

“The fuck is this, Riley?”

“You’ve been here five minutes and you’re already making a pass on Margaret.” My father’s voice is loud with disapproval behind me.

“Margaret?” Ignoring my father, I look down at Riley, waiting for her explanation. Her face is pale with shock.

“Walker. Long time no see. I see you’ve met my fiancée,” Jackson says behind me. “Excuse my brother. It’s not often he’s in the presence of such a beautiful woman.” He nudges me aside and drapes his arm over Riley’s shoulder.

“Brother?” she whispers, her eyes still locked on mine.

“Fiancée?” I growl. “Margaret?” My heart drops in the pit of my stomach. Every ache, every pain I’ve ever experienced, physical, emotional, and mental, pale in comparison to how, in a matter of seconds, my heart and soul were ripped from my chest.

“Jackson, I need another five minutes of your time before you go golfing. My office. Now. I assume you can keep your hands to yourself, Walker? Or should I have one of my men watch over you?”

“Fuck off.”

“I see you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Riley, this is Walker. My younger brother.” Jackson gives me a small smile. “We, uh, we’ll catch up on the green. Be right back.” He kisses Riley on the temple and leaves.

Riley and I stare at each other for a minute before I finally break the silence. “Margaret. That’s the first secret you kept from me. Being engaged was the second. To my brother, nonetheless. Comparing our bank accounts or our dicks? Whose is bigger?”

“Walker,” she pleads and reaches for my arm.

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