When I reach the office building, I look at my phone just to make sure I’m still on time. With ten minutes to spare, I walk into the lobby, not even bothering to alert the receptionist of my arrival. I step into the elevator, thankful for missing the morning rush and having it all to myself. When the elevator doors open, Dick’s secretary sees me and rushes over.
“Easton, Mr. Price is waiting for you. Please follow me.”
We reach a corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a perfect view of the Manhattan skyline. Dick’s secretary swiftly leaves us alone, closing the door behind her to keep our conversation within these walls.
Dick just slumps in his chair, looking worse for wear. His usual immaculate appearance is nowhere in sight. His brown hair, which is normally so tidy and well-kept, is a disheveled mess, almost as if he’s been pulling on it for days on end. The dark rings under his eyes can testify to his long, sleepless nights. Even the suit he has on looks like it’s seen better days. His sleeves are rolled up to his muscular forearms while his jacket and tie are thrown on top of a white leather couch that, if I had to guess, has been his bed for more than one night.
“How is she?” he asks miserably.
I sit on the chair in front of him with my legs sprawled wide, trying to avert my gaze from his since it hurts like hell seeing a king on his knees, begging for scraps. Or, in this case, begging for news about my mother.
“Coping,” I reply.
Telling him that she’s become a ghost of herself—much the same way as he has—will only draw out more pain.
“I got these yesterday,” he says, throwing a thick envelope on top of his mahogany desk.
“What is it?”
I grab the envelope as Dick gets up from his seat, walking toward the small bar in the corner of the room to refill his glass with scotch. I don’t remind him that it’s only ten in the morning, and that strong booze is hardly the breakfast of champions. Let the man grieve as he sees fit. It would be hypocritical of me to reprimand him in any way, considering I have my own favorite vice to get me through the day.
“Divorce papers,” he croaks, after taking a full swig of his drink. “Your mom’s attorney served them to me last night.”
“Are you going to sign them?”
He lets out a long exhale and drinks the rest of his alcohol, all in one go.
“If that’s what Naomi wants,” he replies, walking back to his desk. But instead of sitting back down in his chair, he comes over and leans against the desk’s edge in front of me. “Is that what she wants, Easton?”
“I don’t know,” I answer him truthfully. “I didn’t even know she talked to a lawyer, much less this,” I add, throwing the envelope back on top of his desk.
He lets out a long exhale, crossing his arms over his chest as he takes stock of me, and asks, “Have you transferred from Richfield to NYU yet?” I shake my head as he continues to probe, “Why not?”
“I don’t know that, either,” I quip back, uncomfortable with his attention solely on me.
“Yes, you do, son. Your life is back in Asheville. Not here.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, my left leg bouncing away.
“Why did you want to see me?” I ask sternly, wanting to move this conversation along.
“You never were one to beat around the bush. Guess we have that in common.”
I scrunch my nose because the asshole is right. We are more alike than I give him credit for.
“Here,” he says, throwing me another envelope.
“Is this your idea of a good time, old man? Throwing envelopes in my face and making me guess what’s inside? Fair warning, if you pull out a box with a severed head in it, I’m out.”
When he rolls his eyes at my reference to Seven, I see an amused little smile tug at his lips. My chest begins to tighten at the sight of the first smile he’s probably had since all this shit went down.
He’s missed our banter.
Fuck.
I think I might have missed it, too.
“Just open it, smartass.”
“Fine, what’s in it?”
“My will,” he replies.
“Dick, you’re a forty-five-year-old man who looks twenty. I doubt you’ll kick the bucket any time soon,” I joke.
“Men die of broken hearts every day, East.” He shrugs.
Fuck. Ain’t that the truth.
I shift in my seat, my teasing grin no longer in view.
“Why do I need your will?”
“Because if I sign those divorce papers, I’m not sure that you won’t kick me out of your life, too.”
“I don’t understand.”
He rises from his leaning stance and walks back over to his chair.
“If I do as your mother requested and sign those papers, I’ve lost her. Forever. I know that, and I’ll have to accept her wishes even if it’s tearing me apart. There is nothing I won’t do for her. But I can’t lose you, too.”
“Dick, you’re talking gibberish.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe after this is all over and done with, I will officially lose my mind. But while I still have some sense in me, I want to make sure I do things right. So here it is. You might not like it, but when I married your mother, I also got you. And even through all our fights and disagreements, I tried to be the best dad I could, even if I didn’t have a paternal gene in me. I know I messed up as a husband, and I know I fucking messed up as a father, too. But while I can’t get your mother back, I’m hoping you won’t disregard me as easily.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying that, in your hands, is a notarized will that leaves everything I own in your name.”
“I don’t want your money,” I spit back, emotion coating my words.
“You never did, that’s why it’s all yours.”
“Are you trying to buy me?” I fist my hands to my sides.
“No, son. I’m trying my best to keep you. I lost her. Please don’t make me lose you, too.”
“But you don’t even like me. How could you?” I stammer, all of this too much to take. His fatherly words, the look of unconditional love in his eye. All of it. “How could you ever love the monster that I am? I’m the proof of another man’s cruelty.”
“Stop! Stop it right now, Easton!” He gets up, rushing to my side and placing his hands on my trembling shoulders while tears well up in his eyes. “You are not at fault for what happened to your mother. You hear me? She loves you more than life itself. You were the blessing she needed to move past that nightmare. You healed her, Easton. You were her salvation. It was never me. She would have been content in that shitty shoebox of an apartment that you two lived in all those years ago. When I came into her life, she was already happy. Because of you, son. I fell in love, not with a broken woman, but with one that had so much love and light in her. I was instantly mesmerized by how someone like her even existed. You gave her that, East. Don’t think for a minute you didn’t. I was the one who dimmed her light, not you. Never you. And I will never forgive myself for it.”