like a strange combination of family, friends, and ex-lovers.
We all take our seats and immediately I regret the way it happens. Alistair is next to his wife. Hanna is sitting next to me, and Nash sits alone at the head of the table. There’s a clench to his jaw, and his fists are so tight around his drink they’re blanched white at the knuckles.
Zara puts her hand through Alistair’s fingers as the girls go on about Zara’s dance studio.
“How is the acquisition going?” Alistair asks me, talking aside from the women. Nash takes a drink, looking away from his father, as if he’s actively avoiding that question. As if it doesn’t bother him his father didn’t direct the question to him.
“You said no work talk,” Zara complains. She runs her hands through his hair, and I glare at her. Does she know what she’s doing? Sure, Nash is okay with them being together, but he’s still struggling with the physical touch between them. How do they not see that?
Because he puts up a wall, hides it all…just like Hanna does.
“You’re talking about work,” Alistair argues softly.
“That’s different.” Her eyes dance over to Nash, and I want to scream. The messages are all wrong. She’ll touch Alistair in front of him, but pretend she’s protecting him from the stress of talking work with his overbearing father. The boundaries are all wrong here, and it’s making me crazy.
Just then, I feel Hanna’s hand run along my back, and I stiffen, my eyes immediately bolting over to Nash to see his reaction. He seems to be too busy sipping down his vodka soda with lime to care.
“So, Ellis told me he used to work here years ago when Nash was just a kid,” Hanna says.
Zara laughs. “So, what was Nash like as a child?”
“That’s what I asked,” Hanna replies. They’re all looking at me, and I try to keep a casual expression on my face, remembering how I answered this question three days ago. I had said he’s the same spoiled brat now he was then.
But when I glance at him, I see a man in the margins. Shoved out of the only relationship he’s ever been in. No significant other, no friend, no brother. It’s enough to remind me he’s not as tough as he lets the world believe. And I feel instant regret over the way I answered the question before.
“He was a good kid,” I say with a shrug.
His eyes snap up to me, and instead of looking pleased with me, he stares daggers at me, his brow furrowed with anger.
“He was the good one,” Alistair adds, taking the attention of the table, well everyone except from Nash who is still seething with his eyes on me. It’s not so obvious everyone else will notice it, but I do.
“It was Preston who was the troublemaker.” Bringing up Nash’s late brother seems to be the only thing that draws his glare away from me. He nods his head at his father as they both share a subtle, silent moment.
Then, Zara winds her fingers in Alistair’s and when he looks at her, she leans up to plant a kiss on his lips.
“He may not have been a troublemaker when he was a kid, but he certainly is now,” Zara says as she looks over at him with a soft smile.
I know she thinks she’s being friendly with him, and with the way he smiles back at her, it’s obvious she’s buying his front. But I see what they don’t.
Nash is holding onto something. And it grates on my nerves.
“Well, being a troublemaker makes him a great CEO. I don’t think I’ve ever seen business in such good shape when I get to a job.”
Again, he glares at me because speaking kindly of him when he so clearly wants me to hate him as much as he hates me is enough to set him off. He thinks I’m fucking with him.
“He cares about his company and not in dollar signs. He loves his job because this company means everything to him,” I add.
“What Nash needs is to learn to let go of some responsibility. He has control issues. He knows that,” Alistair adds, taking a bite from his sandwich.
There’s a short moment of silence as I look around at the table, trying to bite my tongue. Trying, but failing.
“Yeah. He does. But it’s pretty clear he has trust issues.” The words slip out of my mouth, and I feel the tension land like