43. Zac

FORTY-THREE

zac

"LET'S GO OVER your roles for this little visit, shall we?" East turned in the front passenger seat of yet another of King's cars. "Since it's probably not wise to introduce you to my mother as ‘men I like to fuck,' considering she's met you both at school functions in a different, more professional capacity, I've given you new characters."

"Oh God." I groaned and slumped in the back seat. "I don't know what's worse, King. That we're just ‘men East likes to fuck' or that he's creating a play in his mind."

King slowed to a stop at the red light and met my eyes in the rearview mirror. "As long as we're not asked to do accents. I can't say I've ever been good at them."

"No? I bet you'd sound hot doing a Boston accent."

"Hello?" East pointed at me and then King with a stern finger. "Neither of you are doing accents. In fact, feel free not to say much at all."

"Gonna gag us with an ascot to keep us quiet?" I grinned.

"Don't tempt me," East said, and then paused. "Actually, tempt me later."

"Deal."

"Good. Now, if my mother asks, Zac, you're my friend who's with me for emotional support. King, you're coming in an advisory capacity, since obviously I'd listen to what my wise professor has to say."

"That'd be a first." King winked at East and then made the right turn the GPS indicated.

It was Friday afternoon, and we were headed to the family estate of East's mother's family in Connecticut, where she'd been staying since the news broke. When East called her to check in last night, she'd said it was important that he come for a visit as soon as he could. She didn't give him any more information than that, and when he'd hung up, he looked pale—probably thinking terrible thoughts, imagining how it could possibly get worse. Both King and I had been about to offer to go with him when East surprised us both by asking us first.

It'd been a holy shitballs moment when we realized East's walls were slowly coming down. Not that we'd ever point that out to him, because he was like a skittish animal. You had to creep up on him without his realizing, or even better, let him come to you.

If East knew I was comparing him to an animal of any kind right now, I was sure my role would change to "man I liked to fuck that I just pushed out of the car."

"Did you grow up out here?" I asked as I looked out at the new leaves on the trees passing us by, finding it difficult to imagine a young East running around outside.

"We used to have a house nearby. No need to sound so shocked."

"I mean, I'm just trying to imagine you in any setting other than the concrete city you seem to love so much."

"I can become one with nature. Or have you forgotten a certain waterfall?"

I didn't think anyone in this car would ever forget coming in that waterfall, but it was the suburban feel I was having difficulty wrapping my head around.

"It's just the quietness of it all, I guess. I always imagined young East in a tiny suit surrounded by the sparkly lights of the city. Not all this…greenery."

King chuckled. "He has a point."

"That I don't look good in green? That's the color of money. I look fabulous in green. Not that I'll likely see that shade much longer with the rate my family is going. What about you?" East asked, glancing back at me. "Did you grow up in the city?"

It was hard to believe that after all the time I'd spent with East, this was the first time we were really talking about our families. Not that you'd generally bring them up with a casual hookup. But again, that just proved whatever was happening between us was turning into a whole lot more than casual.

"Yeah, my parents have a place in Brooklyn. It's where they opened their first restaurant, and they still live there today."

"Wait. So your parents, the people who own The Cellar, live in the same house you grew up in?"

I laughed at the disbelief on East's face. It was blowing his mind that someone who owned and ran a multimillion-dollar business chose to live in a simple brownstone across the river.

"They do. They're sentimental like that. Too many memories to just up and leave."

"You can always make new memories."

"True, but you can't replace the height marker on the mudroom wall where they measured me each year."

"Your parents are wonderful people," King said. "I knew that by the son they raised, but seeing their business grow over the years only solidifies it. They're hardworking, proud people, and they care about their community."

"Oh God, and here I am with a convicted father and an apathetic mother," East said. "Guess that shows in the son they raised too."

King reached over and laid a hand on his leg. "You aren't your parents, just like Zac isn't his, and every day you're making decisions that set you apart from them, and that shows a real strength of character."

East sighed and looked out the window, and I could only hope he took what King said to heart. Over the last few days, we'd seen the old East start to re-emerge, but with a newfound drive to work out a way forward from this mess. He'd been looking into possible opportunities in some of the companies King owned, and really taking an interest in asking about my family's business. It was as if a fire had been lit inside him, but the second he'd gotten the call from his mother, that flame had started to flicker. My only hope was that this visit with her today didn't snuff it out completely.

We turned onto a drive with a set of wrought-iron gates fit for a palace, and when East announced himself and they yawned open, the house that came into view nearly fit that description.

"So much for destitute. If this is in the family, can't you just…get a loan?" I said.

"This belongs to my grandparents. I haven't been here in years. Neither has my mother, for that matter."

"Family rift?"

"Let's just say they never took to my father, and it looks like their instincts were spot-on."

I glanced at the vintage Rolls-Royce parked in front of the multi-car garage. Yeah, so much for running around in the suburbs. Even though I'd grown up around money, both King and East were in an entirely different stratosphere that should've probably made me feel uncomfortable. Instead, I found myself more curious than ever, wanting to know everything about them. Their pasts, their wants, what drove them crazy in and out of the bedroom. They were both endlessly fascinating in a way I'd never expected, and one thing was for sure—I'd been kept on my toes since we came together.

When King parked at the front of the circular drive, East reached for the door handle and took in a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."

"No matter what happens, your life is just beginning," King said. "Remember that."

East didn't respond with a sarcastic comeback, only nodded, and we followed him into the estate. The parlor exuded an old-money aesthetic, with its rich velvet floor-to-ceiling curtains pulled open to let in the sun, and not one speck of dust on any of the polished surfaces. As King and I took up spots on one of the upholstered loveseats and East took the one opposite us, I nodded toward the grand piano in the corner.

"Do you play?" I asked.

East smirked at the question. "Are you implying I've got talented fingers?"

I looked back at the doorway, hoping like hell his family hadn't overheard that. It didn't exactly fit my role as "friend and emotional support."

East started to chuckle, but it died off as his mother entered the parlor and he got to his feet.

It was instantly clear where East got his flair for the dramatic. She looked like royalty with her dark hair pinned up high, gorgeous jewels hanging from her ears and neck, and her cream silk dress flowing after her as she swept inside and greeted her son with a double air kiss. Then she turned to us and held her hand out—not to shake, but to kiss.

King didn't miss a beat, lifting the back of her hand to his mouth in greeting, and I mimicked the move, even though it felt completely weird to do so. What happened to a good old-fashioned hand shake or even a hug?

"I'm so happy you're here, James," she said, perching on the end of the couch beside him and fluffing her outfit out around her. "Have you shown your guests the grounds?"

"No, we just got here. You made it sound like it was urgent for me to come, so"—he spread his hands wide—"here I am."

"Tea," she said suddenly, and rang a little bell on the coffee table between us. One of the house staff appeared almost immediately. "Provisions for my guests, please, Tara."

"Yes, Mrs. Easton."

East's mother visibly cringed at the title but then put on a tight smile for her son. "It's been a dreadful week, darling. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Are you not just devastated by what your father's done? Ruined us both." She plucked a tissue from an ornate box on the table and dabbed at nonexistent tears.

East surprised me then by covering his mother's hand with his. "We'll figure it out. We won't let that bastard win."

Her eyes widened slightly, and then Tara came back with a tray, and East's mother pulled her hand free from his.Tara prepared coffee and tea for each of us to our specifications, and then gestured for us to help ourselves to the assortment of canapes on several levels of a mini tower.

Once we'd selected a few—though East didn't touch anything—his mother rang the bell again, only this time it was a different woman, this one in a suit and carrying a briefcase, who entered.

"James, this is one of my lawyers, Marcia. She's been drawing up the divorce papers?—"

"Divorce?" he said. "You're leaving him?"

"You don't think I'd stay to further sully my name?"

I glanced at King, wondering if we should maybe remove ourselves from the conversation, but the second I shifted on the seat, East shot me a look that said, Stay .

"No. I think you're doing the right thing."

"Of course I am. He made this mess; he can be the one to clean it up." She pretended to pick at some imaginary lint on her skirt, and I thought it sweet that her and her son shared the same nervous habit.

"I couldn't agree more. But—" East stopped himself and shook his head.

His mother took a tiny sip of tea and carefully placed it on the saucer before bringing it to her lap. "You have questions. Perhaps wondering how it is we're back here."

East nodded. "We haven't exactly had family time here in years."

"Well, understandably their disdain for your father was apparent even before we married, but they tolerated him when you were young. Only because he became successful enough to provide for us, but…" She glanced at King and me and seemed to rethink her words. "Well, the cause of our drifting apart is neither here nor there. They wanted me to leave your father, and of course I wasn't going to do that."

My first instinct was that she didn't leave East's father because she didn't need her family's money if she was married to a billionaire. I wasn't sure about King, but I was utterly engrossed in her story, so much so my cucumber sandwich was still half eaten in my hand. I popped the rest of it in my mouth as she continued.

"It was unfortunate that they cut off my inheritance, as well as your own, James, but I never imagined your father would put us in such a precarious position."

"I had an inheritance through your parents? Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"Because by the time you were old enough to know what that was, it was gone."

East eyed her warily. "Are you getting to the part where you tell me how we ended up back here and what all this means?"

"Well, darling, I would've thought it was obvious. Once the divorce papers are signed, we're back in their good graces. Which means neither of us will need your father's money—well, whatever will be left of it."

"Neither of us?" His words were careful, but I could see the way East had scooted to the edge of his seat. "Are you saying?—"

"That your trust will be reinstated. You were set to receive it on your twenty-first birthday, and that's passed, so Marcia will have you sign a few things so you can access it when it becomes available."

East's lips parted. "When will that be?"

"I don't imagine your father will contest the divorce, so it should be a few weeks, but no longer than a couple of months." She gestured for Marcia to hand her the paperwork for East to look over.

"Fifty million dollars?" he said, looking at the document.

"I know it's not what you were expecting, but it should help you get started once you graduate."

Did she just imply fifty million was chump change? I almost fell off the couch, and King would've had to catch me.Shit, fifty million was probably pennies to him too. Maybe I needed to get out of the restaurant business.

As East casually flipped through the rest of the paperwork and signed what he needed to, I wondered if his mother noticed he was about to jump out of his skin. Outwardly he was so calm, so nonchalant, but this new development was one he hadn't seen coming, and I knew if she hadn't been sitting beside him, he would've been jumping up on the damn couch and whooping up a storm. The car ride home was going to be loud .

As East set his pen down and handed the documents to Marcia, he settled back on the couch and looked over at King and me. He was trying hard to bite back a grin, but when King and I couldn't help but smile at him, he lost the battle.

A dejected East just wasn't the guy I knew, and this week had been a series of lows for him. Then again, it'd given us a glimpse at the vulnerability he'd buried so deep. And getting beneath those layers had opened our eyes to the man now desperately trying to keep his emotions in check. It had given us a chance to discover that there was more to James Easton than what was on the surface. True emotions that he kept hidden away from most, but had, for reasons I was sure he wasn't quite ready to admit to yet, shared with me and King.

"Perfect." His mother clasped her hands together and leaned in for East to kiss her cheek. "Do keep in touch, James. Perhaps get yourself a new phone, since yours doesn't seem to be working."

She and Marcia rose at the same time, but before she could get far, East said, "Well, wait, since I'm here, wouldn't my grandparents like to see me?"

"Oh, they're not here. They've gone to Nantucket for the month." She smiled at King and me before sweeping her dress around her slender frame. "Lovely to meet you both, and safe travels, my darling."

I glanced at King, confused as to whether her exit meant she wasn't coming back or if that was a normal thing rich people did when they were done with company.

East wasn't the least bit affected by the ten minutes she'd graced us with her presence, bounding to his feet. He swiped a couple of canapes and bolted for the door like he was about to burst, and I could only chuckle as we followed.

It wasn't until he'd climbed into the back seat—another shock to my system—and we joined him that he let out the loudest whoop I'd ever heard.

"Hell yes, fuckers! I'm back!"