bishop, or pawn went astray. We both watched our game with hawklike eyes.
It was a lesson in resilience, planning ahead, and patience. To this day, whenever Julian and I were at my parents’ house together, we’d play.
Most of the time, I’d win.
Eighty-nine percent, to be exact (and yes, I was counting).
Still, Julian always gave a good fight.
But now we weren’t close anymore, and I suspected neither he nor I was going to abide by the unwritten rules of our new game.
“Maddie, Chase, wait.” Julian clapped twice behind us like we were his servants. Madison stopped first, and I had to follow through with her foolish decision.
My parents and Katie gathered around us. Dad was holding Clementine. He adored her more than anything else in the world. At nine, Clementine was almost a preteen, and yet he still held her like she was a toddler.
That was the thing about my father, though. He had the eerie capability to be the best dad and grandfather in the world—the best husband, at least from where I was standing—and still be a mean son of a bitch when it came down to business. We had weekly hangouts consisting of drinking beer and watching football and talking smack about our competitors. Then he’d take Mom on a date night and read to her when they came back home. He’d take Booger Face to the zoo in the morning and buy-to-destroy a competitor in the evening. He really was the entire package. For a while, I’d thought I’d follow in his footsteps.
Perfect businessman.
Perfect husband.
Perfect everything.
But then something had happened to change everything I’d believed about my family. About women.
I realized I was going to bizarre, unlikely lengths to pacify my father. I wasn’t an idiot. People didn’t fake engagements outside of Ryan Reynolds’s movies. To understand my sacrifice, you had to remember—those dents you saw in families, the wear and tear of being holed up together during summer vacations and Christmas holidays and winter breaks? The tension, the underlying bitterness, the rile-you-up buttons your loved ones pressed when they wanted to make you snap? The Blacks didn’t have them. My immediate family, for the most part, remained a shiny, untouchable thing without any real indentations. No nasty arguments. No hostile baggage between siblings. No infidelities, money problems, dark pasts. I’d come to realize that almost every family in the world suffered through a lot of their relatives’ unbearable traits. Not so with mine. I didn’t tolerate my family. I worshipped them.
Well, three out of the four, anyway.
Mad turned around, looking at Julian with a patient, saintly smile. She didn’t trust him, but she didn’t want to come off as rude either. “Yes, Julian?”
“I was thinking.” He stepped toward us, swirling the thick liquid of his whiskey in his tumbler.
“An unpromising start,” I deadpanned. People snickered uncomfortably around us. I wasn’t joking, but whatever.
“We haven’t really had time to get to know you at all. On Friday, you were . . . indisposed.” He said the word like she had puked buckets on the dinner table, as opposed to tipsily slurring her words when she’d retired to the drawing room with my mother and sister. “And on Saturday, you didn’t join us on the hike or wine tasting. You’re a difficult woman to pin down, huh?” He smirked.
She opened her mouth to answer, but he soldiered through with his speech, not giving a damn about what she had to say.
“It was impossible to get ahold of you, get to know you, and you are going to be a part of the Black clan. You’ll practically be my sister-in-law.”
“Not practically.” I wrapped an arm around Madison. “We’re not brothers, a fact you seem to forget only when convenient.”
“Chase!” my mother chided at the same time my father frowned, looking between us. Julian took a step back, tutting.
“No need to be scandalized on my behalf, folks. That’s just Chase being an unruly baby brother. At any rate, Amber and I would love to invite you guys over—along with Ronan, Lori, and Katie, of course—for a festive engagement meal. Say—Friday? Unless, of course, Maddie is busy again for the next six months.”
Motherfucker.
Queen’s gambit. He’d begun our mental chess game with the classiest chess opening, by pretending to offer a pawn. In this case, Madison. She’d been disposable to me a second ago, but now, when Julian was trying to prove his point, she became the queen. The most important piece in my game.
I smiled, clapping his shoulder good-naturedly with my