Chapter 2
Derek POV
My father stood when I walked into his study.
That was new.
Usually, I got a glance over whatever he was reading and a question about why I was late.
“Derek.” He came around the desk and shook my hand, his other hand closing briefly over my shoulder. “Good to have you back.”
“You could’ve said that on the phone. Saved me a flight.”
“And missed the chance to have you in my office without a time difference to blame?”
I laughed and took the chair across from his desk.
I’d stopped at Frontier Capital’s Boston office after landing. What should’ve been a quick visit had turned into two hours of introductions, questions, and people wanting five minutes. By the time I reached my parents’ house, I’d loosened my tie and given up on getting any sleep before dinner.
Dad picked up a report from his desk.
“I went through your London numbers.”
“All of them?”
“Enough.”
I waited for the part where he pointed out what I should’ve done differently.
Instead, he put the report down.
“You’ve done well.”
I looked at him.
“Try not to sound so surprised,” he said.
“You’re making it difficult.”
“I mean it. Building a firm is one thing. Keeping it growing when the easy money dries up takes judgment. You’ve shown you have it.”
I leaned back, working my thumb along the arm of the chair.
For more than two years, I’d made decisions without checking what my father thought of them. I’d hired my own people, taken my own risks, and dealt with the consequences.
Apparently, I still wanted to hear him say I’d got something right.
“Thanks,” I said.
He nodded, accepting the word without making me sit in it.
“Now I’d like to see what you do here. You know this market. You have the experience you didn’t have when you left. Make something of it.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Good. And if you need an introduction, ask. You don’t have to turn down every advantage just to prove you can.”
“Depends on the introduction.”
His mouth twitched. “Still difficult, then.”
“You invited me back.”
A knock interrupted us before he could answer.
My mother opened the door, took one look at us, and sighed.
“You’ve barely been home twenty minutes.”
“He started it,” I said.
“Of course he did.” She crossed the room and kissed my cheek. “Let me look at you.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“You look tired.”
“I was on a plane.”
“Then come sit somewhere that doesn’t have a desk.”
She took my arm, and Dad let us go.
In the sitting room, she asked about the flight, my apartment in London, and whether I was eating properly. I answered most of it while she poured coffee I didn’t need.
“You should stay for dinner,” she said.
Before I could answer, my phone started ringing.
Thomas.
I declined the call.
It rang again.
Mom glanced at the screen. “I take it you already have plans.”
“Apparently.”
I answered. “What?”
“You’re welcome,” Thomas said.
“For?”
“Organizing your evening. Seven thirty. I’m feeding you, so don’t eat first.”
“I didn’t ask you to organize anything.”
“That’s what makes me such a good friend.”
Thomas had booked a private room at a restaurant, which would’ve been a reasonable choice if he’d remembered how many people he’d invited.
“Move,” Daniel told him as I came in. “You’ve got the only empty chair buried under your coat.”
“That’s Derek’s seat.”
“Then where’s Derek supposed to put his ass?”
I picked up the coat, dropped it into Thomas’s lap, and sat down.
“There. Solved it. How do you two get through a day without me?”
“Poorly,” Thomas said, handing me a drink. “You should’ve seen him trying to order wine.”
Daniel pushed a menu toward me. “He asked the waiter which bottle looked most expensive.”
“And we got an excellent recommendation.”
I took a sip and felt myself start to relax.
There were a few more handshakes, a couple of complaints about how long I’d been gone, and an argument about whether I’d developed an accent. By the time the food arrived, Thomas had made me say three different words for comparison.
“Disappointing,” he decided. “I was hoping we could make fun of you.”
“You seem to be managing.”
“I’m working with very little here.”
For a while, it was easy.
No one needed a decision from me. No one was watching my face to see how a meeting had gone. I ate, listened, and caught up on everything that apparently couldn’t be explained in a text.
Halfway through dinner, someone asked about Frontier’s plans for Boston. We talked business until Thomas threatened to charge consulting fees, then moved on.
I checked my phone once when it vibrated.
An email from London.
I put it facedown beside my plate.
“Absolutely not,” Thomas said.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“I know that look. You’re about to say you need to take one quick call, and then we won’t see you for another two years.”
“It’s an email.”
“Even worse. Those breed.”
I left the phone where it was.
By nine thirty, the conversation had got louder and I was starting to feel the flight. Thomas was trying to order more drinks when I pushed my chair back.
“I’m done.”
“You’ve barely started.”
“You’re going to have to survive the rest of the night.”
Daniel took one look at me and moved his glass out of Thomas’s reach. “Let him go. He looks like he could sleep standing up.”
Thomas complained, but he got up to walk me out.
At the door, he handed me my coat.
“We’re doing this again when you’re less useless.”
“Put it in writing. I’ll have someone review the terms.”
He shoved my shoulder. “Get out.”
“Beacon Hill?” my driver asked.
I paused with one hand on the open car door.
I could go back to my parents’ house. My mother would be pleased, and there’d be a bed ready before I got there.
But I had a house of my own.
“Yes.”
I got in and loosened my tie.
Eleanor would be there.
I hadn’t called her. Between the office and my parents and dinner, I’d let the day go by without deciding what to say.
Now I was on my way to her, and I still hadn’t decided.
We’d never been good at the casual parts of being married. A phone call without a reason. A conversation that didn’t get awkward the moment there was nothing practical left to discuss.
Distance had made it easier. I could work. She could live her life. Neither of us had to keep trying to make an arrangement feel like something else.
That was what I’d told myself when I left.
I looked down at my wedding ring and turned it once with my thumb.
The three years were almost up.
At some point, we were going to have to talk about that.
Just not tonight. I was tired, I’d had a couple of drinks, and there was no reason to turn my first night back into a conversation neither of us would enjoy.
The car slowed outside the townhouse.
A light was on upstairs.
I thanked the driver, took my bag, and let myself in.
The hallway light was on too. Eleanor’s bag sat on the console table, her coat hanging nearby.
I set my keys beside hers.
For a second, I stood there looking at the two sets together. Then I picked up my bag and went upstairs.
The bedroom door was closed.
I turned the handle and pushed it open.
The bedside lamp was on, the covers folded back on one side. Beyond the bed, light spilled through the open bathroom doorway.
The shower was running.
I stopped with my hand still on the bedroom door.
Through the steam-clouded glass, I could see Eleanor standing under the water, her arms raised as she pushed her wet hair back.
