Chapter 25 James

James helped his mother out of the car as his dad handed the car keys to the valet. Peter Alonso buttoned his blazer as he strode with his family into Mr. C, an upscale restaurant in Coconut Grove. James' mom had guilted her son into attending a family dinner tonight. For the Alonsos, family dinners were not home-cooked affairs; they involved dressing up and white tablecloths.

James didn't normally resent family dinners; he simply considered them obligations, things to survive. But today he felt fidgety. He was itching to see Liana. After cooking her a simple breakfast of fried eggs and toast, he'd said goodbye to her and gone to pickleball training. He was already dying to have sex with her again and then to cuddle with her afterward. She'd said she had a job interview early tomorrow morning, but maybe he could convince her to come over later, even if it was just to sleep. He couldn't remember sleeping as soundly as he had last night with Liana snuggled into his chest.

The sound of his father calling his name broke James out of his reverie. Shit, he would have to introduce Liana to his parents soon, wouldn't he? His parents would expect that. He had told his parents a couple of days ago that he was seeing someone, but he hadn't told them anything about Liana yet. Although he was serious about wanting to shout from the rooftops that they were together, he also wanted to guard her from them. He didn't want to subject her to their judgemental glances and his dad's passive-aggressive comments. His parents had loved Mary Grace and he knew no one else would measure up in their eyes.

Speaking of Mary Grace — were his eyes deceiving him, or was she here in this restaurant? Why was their part of Miami so small? Why couldn't she have picked a different restaurant? That was her all right, with her parents trailing behind her.

Be cool, James. Just say hi to her and her parents, and then you can just move on to your dinner with your parents.

But to James' horror, the host was leading James and his parents to a table for six. Peter kissed Mary Grace's mother on the cheek and then pulled out a chair for her at their table. What the fuck?

"I thought you said this was a family dinner." James glared at his mom, who looked utterly unapologetic.

"Be nice, James. It is a family dinner. We consider the McMahons to be a part of our family." She beamed at Mary Grace, who had the nerve to beam right back.

James had a sinking feeling in his gut. "This isn't a family dinner. It's an ambush."

"Calm down, son," said his father. "Take a seat. We have things to discuss. Isn't it nice to see Mary Grace after these past few months?"

"No," said James honestly, earning a loud bark of "James!" from both of his parents.

"It's all right, Mr. Alonso, Mrs. Alonso," said Mary Grace, patting James' mom's hand. "I thought this might be difficult for James." She turned to James. "I only want to talk. Please, after nearly nine years together, I think you owe me that much."

"Owe you?" James barked. "We broke up! You and I are not together anymore, by mutual agreement I might add!"

"Son," warned his father. "Don't make a scene."

"I'm going to the restroom," James said. He stalked through the restaurant and opened his phone, intending to pull up Uber and call for a ride home. He was distracted, however, by a text from Liana.

Liana ??: Still thinking about last night. How's your dinner?

James: Last night was amazing. Your text is the best thing that's happened at this shitshow of a dinner.

Liana ??: Uh oh. What's wrong?

James sighed. He couldn't stand to be in this restaurant for another second. Liana was his girlfriend now; maybe that meant he could ask her to extricate him from the situation?

James : Sorry to impose but is there any chance you could come pick me up? I'm at Mr. C in the grove.

Liana ??: Of course, no problem. I'm with Tori though. Should I ask her to go home?

A thought suddenly occurred to James. Was it devious? Probably. Would Liana resent him a little bit for it? Maybe. But surely James could explain everything to her afterward. He hoped she would understand.

James : Actually, bring Tori. When you get here could you both come inside the restaurant?

Liana ??: Wait and meet your parents?

James : Yes. Sorry I know it's sudden but I could really use the backup.

Liana ??: OK. I'll be there but you want Tori to come too?

James: Yea I'll explain after. Thank you so much baby ?? I owe you

James sighed, pocketed his phone, and hoped Liana trusted him.

Returning to the table, James reluctantly took the open seat next to Mary Grace.

"Hi," she said quietly. "How have you been?"

Liana is on the way , he told himself. He just had to make it through twenty minutes of this until Liana came to his rescue.

"I've been very well, Mary Grace. How have you been?"

She smiled sadly. "I don't think I've heard you call me by my full name in about a decade."

"Yeah, well. A lot has changed."

"I'm sorry, James," she said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It was for the best." He meant it.

James was eager to end this conversation with Mary Grace, which he knew their parents were listening to while pretending to be engrossed in their menus. "Mr. McMahon," said James, hoping to steer the conversation toward a safer topic. "I heard the area around the new soccer stadium is developing nicely. How's that going?" Developing the neighborhood around the planned new Inter Miami soccer stadium was a longtime pet project for Mary Grace's dad, who was, like Peter Alonso, a property developer.

Mr. McMahon looked pleased that James had asked. "It's coming along, James. Thanks for asking. We got a big win from the city council last week, which allowed us to build six inches closer to the sidewalk than we'd previously been permitted to do." Mr. McMahon droned on, and James pretended to be paying attention, nodding along and inserting, "Ah!" and "Is that right?" at the appropriate moments. Internally, he was counting down the seconds until he could leave this dinner.

"... and the mayor will be there for the ribbon-cutting in June," Mr. McMahon continued. "The condos are selling like hotcakes, James. You won't believe it. I promise, you will have no problem selling every unit in the whole building before we even open our doors."

That caught James' attention. Surely Mr. McMahon was using the word "you" generically? "I'm sorry. You said I won't have a problem selling… what condos are we talking about?"

"The building just down the street from here. The one that Don has been building for years," James' dad said in a reprimanding tone. "The Arbor at The Grove? Surely you've been listening."

"That's right," said Mr. McMahon. "The Arbor. 48 luxury units. Well, 46 for sale, since I've already reserved two of the 10th-floor units for my daughters." Mr. McMahon winked at Mary Grace, who beamed. "Like I said, son, I expect you to have no trouble with the sales for the 40 remaining units that haven't sold yet. You should be able to get a nice commission check within a few months."

James had a sinking feeling in his gut. "You said I will be the one selling these units?"

Mr. McMahon glanced at James' dad, confused.

"Don't worry, Don," Peter rushed to reassure. "I haven't gone through all of the details with James just yet. I wanted you to be the one to present the plan to him, since you'll be his new boss."

"Ah, yes," said Don, clearly pleased, as a horrifying realization dawned on James. "Of course, Peter. Now, James, I know there's the small matter of getting your real estate license before you can officially start selling. I understand from your father that you've already studied for the real estate sales exam quite a bit, so it'll be no trouble."

James' anger grew. Yes, James had indeed studied for a real estate license at his parents' encouragement while he was in the hospital a couple of years ago, recovering from his shoulder surgery. He'd been disconsolate about the end of his tennis career, and his parents had convinced him that a real estate sales license would be valuable, especially if he wanted to work for his dad's company in the future. James had agreed, he suspected, while still under the influence of morphine. While he'd prepared for the license exam, he'd never actually taken it, unsure if he wanted to commit to what he surmised was a lifetime sentence working for his father.

James had recently considered taking the exam but wasn't ready to commit yet. He wasn't necessarily opposed to working in real estate, but like hell would he ever work for Mary Grace's father, or, he realized now, for his own.

"Mr. McMahon, that's a generous offer. Truly, I'm so grateful. Unfortunately, I will have to decline."

Mr. McMahon looked ready to speak, but Mary Grace patted her father's arm. "Allow me, Dad. James, I'm sorry that we broke up. And I'm sorry for the months before that, for distancing myself from you. It's just that, you were a bit lost, and obviously being a pickleballer, or whatever it's called, wasn't exactly what you or I had in mind for your career."

"You mean, you left me when you realized that being with a pickleball player wouldn't get you on any private jets? That it wouldn't get you invited to party with Brock Templeton anymore?"

"James!" gasped his mom, reddening.

"I still party with Brock Templeton, you'll be pleased to know. No thanks to you," Mary Grace barrelled on, undeterred by James' outburst. "But, back to the point. This is good news, babe. My dad is offering you a job. A good job. An amazing job! I know it wasn't what we dreamed of when you played Wimbledon, but this will be a great career. A lucrative one. One that will let us still live the life we wanted. You should be falling to your knees thanking me and my family. And I'm about to start at Barker Wealth Management once I finish my MBA. We'll be the power couple again."

"Correction. We'll be nothing, seeing as we're no longer a couple. Don't call me babe."

"I told you," she pleaded. "I made a mistake. Please don't throw away all of our years together. You and I are meant to be. You know that."

"Ha!" James barked a laugh. "That's fucking rich, Mary Grace. I should have known something like this was coming."

"Language," cautioned James' mom, her lips pursed.

James turned on her. "I'm twenty-six years old, Mom. I'm an adult, and I'll speak however the hell I want to other adults. Speaking of which, who goes behind their adult son's back to arrange an ambush? Who blindsides their son with a job he doesn't want, with his ex- girlfriend whom he clearly has no interest in speaking to? Seriously, is this a fucking soap opera or something?"

"Don't speak to your mother like that," Peter snapped.

"You're right, Dad. I should be speaking to you. How dare you arrange this without asking me. This is not the 1800s, and you don't get to arrange my betrothal. You don't get to move me around like a pawn on a chess board just because I don't fit inside your tiny box of who you want your son to be. I will not be pressured into some sort of fucked-up arranged marriage. I'm leaving."

He stood up, seeing red. And that's when a vision cut through his haze: two women, their mouths open in shock. The most beautiful woman in the world, and her best friend.