āWhat about Willow?ā I asked. Another dip of his chin.
āRight.ā Iād forgotten how difficult it was to hold a conversation with someone who refused to speak. He didnāt seem inclined to express any further thoughts, so I gave him a quick summary of my revised plans for the club and an update on the opening party. It felt strange, talking business when weād almost died the last time we saw each other, but Vuk didnāt strike me as the type who liked discussing emotions or past traumas (or much of anything, really).
He made a noise of approval when I finished and scribbled something on a sheet of paper.
Whoās on the guest list for the opening?
Interesting. Of everything Iād said, that was the part I least expected him to focus on.
āIām finalizing the invites this week,ā I said. āIāll email you a full list once Iām done.ā
I wasnāt confident about pulling off the club by my birthday, but I was confident in my ability to throw a kick-ass party. Even if people were dubious about my business acumen, theyād show up to see me sink or swim and have a damn good time in the process. āIf thereās anyone you want me to include, just let me know,ā
I added.
Iād asked out of courtesy. Vuk didnāt date, didnāt have a close social circle, and didnāt care about public appearances, so I didnāt expect him to have anyone in mind.
However, he proved me wrong when he wrote something else on a fresh sheet of paper.
It contained only one wordāspecifically, one name.
Ayana.
The same Ayana whoād just gotten engaged.
My gaze snapped up to Vukās stoic one. He didnāt offer an explanation for the name, and I didnāt ask.
āSheās already on the list, but Iāll triple check,ā I said, rearranging my own expression into one of neutrality.
He nodded, I left, and that was that. It was the quickest, easiest meeting Iād had since I came up with the idea for the Vault.
Honestly, it couldāve been a virtual meeting, but Iād wanted to check on Vuk in person and make sure he was doing okay after the fire. Obviously, he was.
I exited the mansion and flashed back to the sight of Ayanaās name written in bold, black strokes. Heād pressed the pen so hard itād punctured a tiny hole in the paper.
Then again, maybe he wasnāt okay, but that was none of my business.
I had enough on my plate without taking on otherās troubles, so I put Vukās strange interest in the supermodel aside and simply made a note to myself to ensure Ayana attended the grand opening, no matter what.
Being in love was strange.
The overall rhythm of my day to day stayed consistentāI still went to work, hung out with my friends, and dealt with wild client demandsābut the details had changed. They were softer, more fluid, like moonlight slipping between the rigid blinds of my life.
I was quicker to smile and slower to anger. The air smelled fresher, and my steps were lighter. Everything seemed more tolerable with the knowledge that, no matter what happened, there was someone out there who called me his and who I called mine.
Some mornings, I lazed in bed with Xavier instead of waking up early for yoga; some nights, at his suggestion, I dipped my toe into horror films (hilariousāhorror protagonists were almost uniformly dense) and slapstick comedy (not for me). Afternoons were either spent eating at my desk (on particularly busy workdays) or at a string of increasingly adorable bistros that Xavier found.
Routine became suggestion, and every suggestion became a touch more magical when Xavier was involved.
I was disgustingly happy, but even so, there were still a few rough patches of my life that needed smoothing over.
One of them was the situation with Pen and Rhea.
Two weeks after I ran into Caroline at Le Boudoir, I received a curt email requesting I meet her at my familyās penthouse. Xavier had gone to see Vuk, so I showed up alone, my heart giving a little twist at the sight of the building Iād called home for half my life.
It looked exactly the same as the last time I was here, down to the hunter green awning and potted plants by the entrance.
āMiss Sloane!ā The doorman greeted me with a surprised smile. āItās nice to see you again. Itās been a long time.ā
āHi, Clarence.ā I smiled back, oddly touched that heād remembered me after all these years. He used to sneak me little pieces of candy every time I came home from school. My father had forbidden me from eating too many sweets, and heād been furious when he found some of the wrappers in my room. Iād lied and told him Iād gotten the candy at school. āIt has been a long time. Howās Nicole doing?ā
āSheās great.ā He beamed brighter at the mention of his daughter. āSheās in her first year at Northwestern. Journalism.ā
We chatted for a few more minutes before another resident came down, asking for a cab. I said goodbye to Clarence and took the elevator straight up to the penthouse. I didnāt recognize the housekeeper who answered the door, but when I followed her through the halls, I had to battle a surprising bout of nostalgia.
The oil paintings. The cream marble floors. The scent of calla lilies. It was like someone had preserved my childhood home in a gilded time capsule, and while I didnāt miss living here, I missed the happy moments I did have growing up.
Of course, there hadnāt been many of them, and theyād been overshadowed by my father or sister in one way or another.
That was all it took to bring me back to reality.
I shook my head and brushed off the last bits of understandable but unwelcome sentimentality before I entered the living room, where my father and Caroline waited for me.
Obviously, Caroline had talked to him as promised, but neither looked too happy to see me. That was fine; I wasnāt thrilled to see them either, though I was a bit surprised to see my father at home on a weekday afternoon. I supposed that was a perk of running your own company.
I sat on the couch across from them and arched a cool brow. I was dying to ask a thousand and one questions about Pen, but I wouldnāt give them the upper hand by speaking first.
Tension dripped around us for several minutes before Caroline caved.
āIāve discussed Penelopeās situation with George,ā she said without preamble. āHeās agreed that itās untenable. Therefore, weāve decided that, despite the original terms of your departure from this family, it would beā¦beneficial for all parties involved if you resumed your correspondence with Penelope.ā Caroline sounded like someone was peeling strips of her skin off with each word.
āBut let us be clear. This isnāt a free pass for you to worm your way back into this family.ā My fatherās eyes blazed beneath thick, gray brows. āYou disrespected us, embarrassed us, and ignored us when we gave you an opportunity to make amends. Howeverā¦ā His glower deepened when Caroline glared at him. āPenelope is clearly attached to you, so for her sake, weāre willing to give you some leeway provided you act appropriately.ā
āI have no intention of worming my way back into this family,ā I said coolly. The very idea was laughable. āIām doing perfectly fine on my own, so let me be clear. The only reason Iām here is because of Pen. Sheās the only Kensington I want anything to do with, and I have zero interest in drudging up the past. You betrayed me, I embarrassed youā¦I donāt care. Now, letās get to the real reason why weāre here, shall we?ā
I wasnāt worried about them kicking me out. Theyād swallowed a massive amount of pride just by asking me to come, and they wouldnāt throw that away before they said what they wanted to say. My fatherās face turned a fascinating shade of purple. Heād thrown me off-balance at the hospital, but I hadnāt planned on seeing or confronting him then. This time, I was prepared, but I no longer cared enough to engage more than I had to.
Sometime between Penās hospitalization and now, Iād healed enough to not let him get to me by the mere fact of his existence.
āWeāre willing to let you see Penelope on our terms,ā Caroline said stiffly, drawing my attention back to her. I bristled at her choice of words, but I kept my mouth shut until she finished. āSpecifically, once a month at a predetermined time, date, and location of our choosing.ā
āOnce a week, at a predetermined time and date of our choosing.ā I shook my head when she opened her mouth to argue. āPen is nine. Sheās homeschooled, which means she doesnāt get many opportunities to interact with kids her age. You and George are rarely home, and youāve fired the only person in this household who treats her like a normal person. The least you can do is let her have some say in her own life.ā
Silence engulfed the room.
Caroline glanced at George. A telltale vein throbbed in his forehead, but he gritted out an acquiescence.