Zach Westwood Manor was too empty for my liking. Barefoot on the cold marble floor of our kitchen, I watched the sun rise over Lake Michigan, still not really used to how quiet mornings were around here these days. It had been at least a year since even Dad had moved out of the massive home, but I still sort of expected either him or one of the others to come bursting in, stealing the coffee I was making for myself or pouring the last bit of cereal into their own bowl instead of mine. I cocked my hip against the counter and waited for the coffee machine to work its magic, thinking back to what a nuthouse this place used to be at six thirty in the morning, all seven of us kids, banging around in here before school. Cereal bowls clattering and Mom cooking a mountain of eggs while Alex bickered with her about being old enough to drink coffee and Jesse hurriedly trying to finish an assignment he’d been putting off for at least three weeks. I’d always thought I’d move out as soon as I hit eighteen, but then I’d grown up and realized I didn’t care about finding a place that was newer or sleeker. This was home and I actually really liked living here. The house, an expansive, old as hell mansion on the Gold Coast, had seen us through decades of life together. It felt different these days but it was still home. At least one of my brothers was still in residence with me, and objectively, the house was way too big for only Theo and me, but for the past year, the two of us had been rattling around in it alone. Our father had taken off to enjoy his retirement in more tropical climates, places like Florida and the Maldives, where his biggest problem was the color umbrella he wanted in his drink and he never heard the words plumbing and maintenance in the same sentence. Charlotte, our sister, had moved out after she’d gotten married and was living her best life on a ranch in Texas with her husband. Will spent half the year here, and half the year in the UK. Alex and Nate, our oldest brothers, as well as Jesse, Will’s twin, were still in Chicago too, but none of them had lived in the Manor for years. I snapped out of my reverie when the machine started sputtering, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air as it filled my mug. Since it was a Saturday, I wasn’t expecting Theo to be up anytime soon, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when he suddenly spoke up from right behind me. “Is that coffee or are you just holding an emotional support mug?” I spun around to face him, surprised that he was not only awake but also showered, judging by his damp hair, and dressed. For golf, no less.
“You’re vertical,” I said slowly. “It’s not even seven yet and it looks like you actually have plans for the day. Should I be worried or proud?” He rolled his eyes and headed straight for a mug of his own. “You’re hilarious this early in the morning. Is that natural or do you train for it?” “I’ve trained. It’s a strict regimen. Years of discipline.” He snorted, slid his mug into the machine, and set it to espresso. “I thought so. You should train a bit harder. It wasn’t that funny.” “You said it was hilarious.” I feigned offense before I took a sip and watched him over the rim of my mug for a second. “So, what are you doing up? You don’t do mornings unless there’s a reason and you don’t have to work today.” Theo’s Saturdays started somewhere around noon, once he woke after another wild Friday night living it up with the women of Chicago and beyond. The fact that he was standing in front of me, coherent and apparently not only just having stumbled back into the house, suggested that something had gone terribly wrong in his routine. He glanced at me over his shoulder, his green eyes surprisingly clear. Not at all watery or red. In fact, there was no indication that he’d gone drinking last night at all. “I’m just bored,” he said. “Usually, I’m too hungover to notice or I’m waking up at some rando’s apartment halfway across the city, but that’s not true right now.” “Which brings me to my next question,” I said. “Why are you not hungover or at some rando’s apartment?” He shrugged. “I needed a break. Can I come with you guys today? I haven’t seen Colin for a while and I could use the fresh air.” My eyes widened. “You want to come with us, willingly, to play eighteen holes with one of my clients on a Saturday morning? Are you sure I shouldn’t call someone? A psychiatrist? A doctor? Dad?” He scoffed. “Dad is probably snorkeling or about to play a heated game of Bingo, but please, go ahead. Call him.” “Are you aware of the fact that we actually do play golf out there? Like, in the sun with clubs and everything. Golf clubs, not nightclubs. We don’t just get dressed as if we’re going to play and then wind up sitting at the bar all day.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “I know you and I know Colin. Obviously, I know that your idea of fun is entertaining clients over the weekend, and I can behave. I promise.” “I know you can.” Theo, for all his faults, wasn’t in capable. He knew when to switch it off and when to play the part. He’d done it before. Often enough that I didn’t have to worry about him actively sabotaging a deal. “I just don’t know why you’d want to.”
He slid his mug out of the slot when his coffee was done but didn’t lift it to his mouth, waiting for it to cool. Instead, he turned to face me, leaning back against the counter and looking at me with an expression that was all easy confidence and sincerity. “I told you. I need a break. I’m not even hungover. I don’t know what to do with myself.” While this was unexpected, the last few months had been a lot. Even by our standards. I still wasn’t sure why he’d want the sudden change, but I couldn’t deny that he probably needed it. Sunshine, fresh air, and tagging along on my standing tee time with our brother-in-law. Colin Thayer and I had gone to school together. We’d been friends for a long time, but we’d become family when Alex had married Jane, his sister. For the last few months, it had become a tradition for us to hit the course on a Saturday morning, with or without a client. Finally, I nodded and sw ept up my mug again. “Fine, but if you embarrass me, I’m leaving you there.” “I’ll find my own way home if you do,” he said without skipping a beat. “I’ll probably get back with better stories too.” I groaned. “You’re really not helping your case. I’m leaving at seven sharp. Be ready.” He grinned and took a pointed look at my bare feet. “I’m readier than you are. At least I’ve got shoes on.” I rolled my eyes and took my coffee to my bedroom, then met him back downstairs precisely twenty minutes later. We st epped out into the crisp, spring air together and headed for my car, a Jaguar XKE, sitting in the drive. Out of all the cars I owned, this was my favorite. A fact Theo still couldn’t acc ept. According to him, it wasn’t nearly flashy enough—and much too old. He slid into the passenger seat and buckled up, sighing like he couldn’t believe I was putting him through this kind of torture. “I’m just putting this out there, but they have made cars in this century. Really cool little electrics and hybrids. All sorts, really.” I started the engine, the low purr of it settling in my chest. “You didn’t have to come and I like what I like.” “You could like more.” “I could, but I don’t.” Few people understood that about me, and Theo was no exc eption. We’d been born into a clear path for our lives—private schools, college, and immediate entry into the executive track at Westwood and Sons, our family company. While I worked there, I didn’t want a fancier title or a seat at the top next to Alex, our CEO, Nate, our CFO, and Jesse, our COO. I’d always been proud of the fact that I’d resisted the pressure from the family to move up. For me, being an Acquisitions Executive was more than enough. I k ept a smaller client list, but it was a calculated move that allowed me to seek out deals with higher stakes, cleaner wins, and greater challenges, and I was really good at it.
It was an atypical nine to five, with some days at the office and some at home, but my weekends were actually weekends and my quarterly bonus checks made even my eyes water. I didn’t need an illustrious position of power to love my job. In fact, I loved it exactly because I didn’t have the pressure that came along with those titles. “Just try not to say anything offensive in the first five minutes, okay?” I pulled out of the driveway and into the street. Theo scoffed. “I’m offended you think I would.” “I don’t think so. I know it.” I glanced at him. “We’re playing with Roark Wright this morning. He’s a banker who’s done exc eptionally well for himself and he’s interested in parting with half of his commercial portfolio.” “Do you have no faith in me?” “None.” He laughed. “Oh, you’re on. I’m going to seduce this old man into letting you acquire his portfolio so hard.” I winced. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. We’re not even there yet and you’re talking about seducing an old man so hard.” “What’s wrong with that? It’s exactly what we’re going there to do.” “Yeah, but we don’t need to put it like that.” “Stop being a prude.” “Stop being you.” “Why? Old people love me.” He pumped his eyebrows but settled in for the drive without any more inappropriate commentary. By the time we reached the country club just outside the city, Colin and Roark were already there. Our tee time was at seven forty-five, but Colin was already cutting up with the guy, pretending to be a lot more social than he actually was. He was as good at this as I was though, seducing the client over long days on the course. It was a very technical game, playing the characters we had to be to seal the deal, and Colin had had my back more than once over the last year or so. Roark was laughing at something Colin had said when we climbed out of the car, the sound carrying across the parking lot, loud enough to let me know we were off to a good start. “Showtime,” Theo murmured. “Remember, you’re on your best behavior today.” “Always.” I practically saw him shifting gears into the character he needed to play while I did the same. This was why I’d relented and let him come. At heart, Theo was a good guy and a great player—of both golf and corporate ass- kissing. Three holes in, however, I’d sort of forgotten that we’d come to kiss Roark’s ass into trusting us. The guy was actually pretty fun to talk to, making the whole thing feel social instead of transactional. Until he brought up the last name I’d expected to hear today. “I had lunch with Clark Morris, Jr. last week,” he said as he lined up his putt. “Do you know him?” I didn’t look up from adjusting my glove, but my insides turned cold. “I know of him.”
Technically, that was true. The Morris company was an international powerhouse who owned half the world in some way, shape, or form. Everyone knew of Clark Morris, Senior, the eighty-five-year-old patriarch of the Morris family, but I happened to know a little more about his children and grandchildren than most. Clark Morris, Jr., for example, was the uncle of my ex, Adeline Morris, who I really didn’t want to think about right now. Roark tapped the ball. “He’s a good man. One of the four sons of Clark Morris himself. Junior and I went to college together back in the day and we’ve been friends ever since.” “Is that so?” Colin said, effortlessly st epping in for me when words failed. “Clark, Jr. went into politics instead of business, didn’t he? I think he’s a senator now or something?” “He is,” Roark said with just a hint of pride in his voice. “Most of his sons followed him into it too. All exc ept his youngest, who decided to become an attorney.” “That sounds like it was a fun discussion around the dinner table,” Theo muttered. Roark laughed. “You have no idea. They weren’t happy with the kid, but you guys have firsthand knowledge of how it goes in these old-money families. You’re from some of the oldest there is. Clark’s son just didn’t want politics or business. They tried threatening him, but he wouldn’t budge.” “Sure,” Colin said. “I actually think I’ve heard of his firm. Morris and Associates, right? They’ve been one of the top firms in the city for a long time.” Roark nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. Anyway, Clark has long since gotten over his son’s decision. It’s his brother’s kid who’s worrying them now, not his own.” My eyelids slid shut for a long moment, but I k ept my head down and hoped Roark wouldn’t notice. Colin and Theo definitely would, but right now, that old, familiar ache was starting up in my chest and it was all I could do not to snap at Roark to shut the fuck up about the Morrises. “Clark’s youngest brother passed a few years ago,” he said, oblivious to the fact that the man he was talking about now could’ve been my father-in- law if life had worked out a little differently. “It was a messy situation. He blew through a fortune most people couldn’t spend in three lifetimes on a series of bad investments and worse decisions.” Colin hummed but didn’t interrupt. Even Theo didn’t offer any remarks, both of them too aware of my past with the family. Roark, however, took our silence as an invitation to carry on. “The brother, Gregory, left behind a daughter. Adeline. Apparently, she lived here in Chicago for a bit after graduating from college and now she’s back to ride out a real bad divorce. Clark isn’t her father, but he and his brothers are rather upset about the whole thing. Horrible business. Horrible.”
My grip tightened around the club, but I forced myself to look up and follow the line of the green like I was calculating distance instead of recalibrating my entire being. Thankfully, Colin picked up the slack when I still couldn’t bring myself to say a word. “Divorce is always tough,” he said lightly. “It must be hard on your friend, knowing his niece is going through a rough time and not really being able to help.” Roark grimaced. “Yeah, but it’s even tougher for her. I’m not sure if it works the same way in your families, but in some cases, these old money types still marry like they’re kings and queens of old, using marriage to expand their power rather than doing it for love. The Weatherby family that Adeline married into was new money, and they turned out to be the worst of the worst for the poor girl.” Immediately, I felt sick to my stomach, really not wanting to hear more of this conversation. Colin was stuck in it, but Theo leaned in slightly while Roark was still focused on explaining to Colin how these things worked. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Now might be a perfect time for me to begin seducing him to change the subject.” “I’m fine.” He didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t push it, both of us simply turning back to the game. I finally took the shot and my swing was clean but my mind was miles away. Theo had been far too young at the time to understand what I went through with Adeline, but while the details of that year we’d spent together had blurred together over time, I could never forget the conversation we’d had when she’d ended things with me, thinking she was doing the right thing for her family. Roark moved on eventually, talking about markets, travel, and a deal in London that had gone sideways, but I k ept thinking about what he’d said. Adeline is in Chicago. It didn’t feel real. I couldn’t focus for the rest of the game. Once we were done, Roark and I planned a lunch to discuss the finer details of the acquisition, but thoughts of Adeline k ept churning in my head. After Theo and I got home, I showered and he took off—hopefully not to do something illegal—and I drifted around trying to distract myself for a while, but nothing really worked. Eventually, I gave up and climbed the stairs to the attic. It stretched out around me, a massive space filled with dusty boxes, old sports gear, and memories of all the lives we’d lived in this house. I moved through it without thinking, scanning until I found the boxes with my name on them. Sinking to my ass right there on the floor, I searched through one box and then another until I found what I was looking for. My old yearbooks from high school. Normally, it would break my heart seeing a picture of Adeline and me together, but I deliberately looked for one photograph in particular now.
It was of me, thirteen years younger, with my arm around the shoulders of a shorter, beautiful girl who was smiling like she’d never stop. Her blonde hair had caught the light that day and those blue eyes were the brightest I’d ever seen. I waited for that internal hit I always felt, the sharp edge of pain when my heart broke all over again as I looked at her. Tonight, it didn’t come. All I felt was an overwhelming sense of nothing. Just a heavy stone where my heart used to be.