Page 90 of Lavish
“One day my dad was the one running things, yelling across boardrooms and hosting cigar nights with the guys. Next thing I know he’s got this blank look in his eye and he’s calling me ‘buddy’ because he doesn’t remember my name.”
I stepped closer, and he looked back at the grilled cheese in the pan.
“I used to get mad at him,” he admitted, almost in a whisper. “For forgetting. For slurring his words. For needing me. It wasn’t fair, but I did.”
“That makes you human.”
“It made me an asshole.” His throat worked. “He got diagnosed with diabetes not too long before the car wreck and all the other shit. So I had to learn how to inject insulin, clean wounds, fight with insurance, and bathe a grown man who used to scare me into silence with one look.”
I gripped the counter tighter.
“Your sandwich is ready,” he said abruptly.
He busied himself with pulling it out, and then looked at me. “Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded.
“It hasn’t been easy for you either these last few years, has it? With the company? Your mom?”
No. It wasn’t easy. I’d been so hellbent on proving myself. Trying to compete with Erik and Laurene when I knew I would never have their positions in the family. I knew I couldn’t change how King Enterprises would run.
“I got what I wanted, that’s all that matters.” I crossed my arms, watching as he stirred the tomato soup. “I knew the cost I had to pay.”
Miles paused. “Which was us.”
“I—”
“It’s the truth. You can’t lie about it,” Miles said. “I just can’t help but think maybe we’ve been running parallel lives. Tryingto save companies, help family, make sure we don’t fucking go under and never come out.”
“You think about it a lot?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
He didn’t flinch. “Every time something good happens, I’d think about telling you. Every time something goes to shit…I wonder if you’d care. We were more similar than we thought growing up.”
That cracked something in me. Something I didn’t even know was still holding on.
“I wasn’t popular.”
He made a face. “That has nothing to do with it. I meant I enjoyed kicking your ass in every competition.”
“Oh no you didn’t.” I couldn’t help but laugh and shake my head.
We competed over everything. If I finished a book, he’d start two. If I made honor roll, he’d aim for valedictorian—just to get under my skin. Spelling bees, student council elections, debate tournaments, even damn volunteer hours.
Growing up as a King, we weren’t challenged much. He brought that for me. And I loved it back then.
“I’m still better,” I sniffed, tilting my head up.
“Really?” Miles pursed his lips. “I was student of the year throughout high school.”
“You rigged that.” I leaned against the counter, and I realized I was smiling big at him.
“Sometimes I wonder,” he said, “what would’ve happened if we just…stayed. If we didn’t let all of it tear us apart.”
He handed me the steaming bowl of tomato soup, its rich aroma filling the air. Our fingers brushed.
“Open,” he commanded.
I did it without thinking, and he fed me the soup, rich and tangy, bursting with flavor. My throat tightened as I swallowed,and his eyes followed my every move. He fed me again, and I ate slowly.
