Page 24 of Price of Victory
I shrugged. “Should I? It’s not like I had much choice in where I was born or who my parents are.”
“But you could choose to live differently.”
“I could. But why would I want to make things harder for myself just to prove a point?”
He was quiet for a moment, considering this. “I guess I’ve never thought about it that way. For me, living like this isn’t making things harder. It’s making them simpler.”
There was something in his voice, a contentment that I envied despite myself. I’d spent my entire life accumulating advantages, using every resource available to me, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt the kind of peace that seemed to radiate from him when he talked about his simple life.
“What about parties?” I asked, changing the subject slightly. “Don’t you ever want to experience the kind of events your family could get you into?”
“You mean like charity galas where everyone spends the evening trying to network their way into better business deals?” He made a face. “I’ve been to enough of those to last a lifetime.”
“Not all of them are like that.”
“No? What are they like?”
I tried to think of a way to describe the world I’d grown up in, the exclusive events and private clubs and gatherings where fortunes were made and lost over cocktails. “They’re…educational. You learn how the world really works, how decisions get made, who has power and how they use it.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It can be. But it’s also exhilarating. There’s something addictive about being in a room where everyone understands that everything is a game and the stakes are higher than most people can imagine.”
Rhett was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read, something that might have been curiosity mixed with concern. “Is that what you want? To be part of that game?”
The question caught me off guard, partly because I’d never really thought about it in those terms. “I don’t know if it’s what I want, but it’s what I’m good at. And it’s what’s expected of me.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
“No, they’re not.”
We lapsed into silence again, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I found myself studying his face in the soft light from his desk lamp, noting the way his features had softened since we’d started talking. The sharp edges of anger and defensiveness were gone, replaced by something more open and genuine.
“Can I ask you something?” he said eventually.
“Sure.”
“Your father. What happened to him?”
I felt my entire body tense, the relaxed atmosphere in the room shifting instantly. “I’d rather discuss anything else.”
It wasn’t angry or spiteful, just a simple statement of fact. There were some topics that were off-limits, and my father’s health was definitely one of them. Not here, not with Rhett, not when things between us felt fragile and new.
Rhett nodded immediately, and I was grateful that he didn’t push. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine. Just…I’d have a better time talking about chlamydia.”
“I get it.”
And somehow, I believed that he did. There was understanding in his expression, the kind that came from having his own family dynamics to navigate.
The conversation shifted to safer topics after that. He told me about his classes, his professors, the books he was reading for pleasure rather than requirement. I found myself talking about my own academic interests, the subjects that genuinely fascinated me rather than the ones I was taking because they were practical for business school.
It was strange, this easy back-and-forth between us. We’d spent so long antagonizing each other that I’d forgotten we were both intelligent people with actual thoughts and opinions beyond our family rivalry. Rhett was funny when he wasn’t beingdefensive, with a dry sense of humor that caught me off guard. And he was curious about things, asking questions that made me think about topics I’d never really considered before.
Hours passed without either of us noticing. We talked about movies, about travel and places we wanted to see, about the future and what we might want to do after graduation. It wasn’t deep philosophical discussion, but it wasn’t superficial, either. It was the kind of conversation that happened between people who were genuinely interested in getting to know each other.
When I finally glanced at the clock on his desk, I was shocked to see it was nearly two in the morning.
