6. Caleb

SIX

THE DOOR TO my parents' penthouse mocked me as I stood outside staring at the peephole. I'd lived here my whole life, first with my mom and dad and then Travis and Vera, running the halls and causing chaos. But now as I stood here I hesitated, and all because of what I knew I'd find when I stepped inside.

I was running late, which meant the whole family would likely already be here, and because the universe hated me, that "family" now included the one person in the world I would do anything not to have to sit across from at our monthly dinners.

It wasn't like I could do anything about it, though. This was the way it had been for a long time now. At least twelve excruciating dinners a year that I had to force myself to attend. I'd tried to skip it once, but was met with never-ending questions as to why. So it was just easier to suck it up and enjoy Vera's cooking, all the while pretending Travis didn't exist.

I took in a breath and unlocked the front door, mentally preparing myself for the next couple of hours ahead, and as I stepped inside, the sound of laughter drifted up the hall.

God, what would it feel like to just walk into that room and slip into whatever conversation was happening, not feel like I was the one who would suck the air right out of it? Because that always happened whenever Travis and I were in the same room. The air grew thick with whatever toxic emotions we were throwing at one another.

Tonight would be no different.

I made my way toward my dad's deep chuckle and found Vera and Travis standing at my dad's bar, where he was pouring them both a drink.

"There you are," Dad said. "We were worried you might've gotten lost."

"I mean, I was hoping." Travis spun around on his stool, his lips curving against the lip of his tumbler.

"So sorry to disappoint."

"Ignore him, honey." Vera hopped off her stool and kissed my cheek. "The train late again?"

"Again?"

"Travis was telling us how you got held up the first day of school too."

"Was he?"

"He was. It was lucky he saved you a seat."

"Saved me a seat?" I cut my eyes back to the smirking idiot.

"I'm nothing if not thoughtful like that."

What I wouldn't pay to be able to punch that grin off his smug face. "So thoughtful."

"Here you go." Dad handed me a craft beer and clapped me on the shoulder. "I had them stock the fridge for you tonight."

Travis made a gagging motion as I took a sip of the cold brew, and I couldn't help but hope he choked for real.

"Thanks, Dad, appreciate it."

"I'm curious," Travis said, nodding at the bottle I held. "Do you actually like that piss, or is it just the pretty labels that get you?"

"That's rich coming from someone who hits on anything even mildly attractive."

"That wasn't a no."

"It wasn't a yes, or did that go over your head?"

"I hope you're both hungry," Vera said, putting on a bright smile like that would defuse the situation. "I made enchilada stuffed shells."

That at least sounded promising, despite the company. If there was one good thing that came from family dinner nights, it was that Vera was actually pretty decent in the kitchen, which had surprised me when she and my dad first got together. I didn't think big-time actresses even knew how to turn an oven on.

We passed the formal dining room, where the custom marble table seated twenty, and headed into the family dining room. Tall tapered candles had already been lit along the smaller table and settings placed for the four of us. Vera strived for a cozy ambience on these occasions, from the low lighting to the sound of jazz filtering in from the record player in the corner. While our parents took their seats at the head of the table, I reluctantly took the spot across from Travis. It was enough to endure these dinners, but having no other option but to see his face every time I looked up was a lot.

"Vera, you know what would be a great centerpiece? Some of those pampas grass stems in a vase," I said.

With elegant fingers, she placed her napkin in her lap and smoothed her hands across it. "You think so?"

Travis snorted. "He wants it to block out my face."

I wanted to kick him under the table. "Would that be so bad?"

Vera sighed and then pasted her smile back on. "Pass the salad, please, Travis."

Blue eyes held mine as he handed her the bowl. If this was a staring contest, I could play that and win. Travis may be the most stubborn ass I'd ever met, but I wasn't a push-over-and-let-him-conquer type.

"Caleb?" Dad said, and when I didn't respond, he snapped his fingers. "Vera spent hours getting dinner ready for us, and the least you could do is try the stuffed shells before they get cold."

Guilt. It always worked, and that was the only reason I tore my eyes away from Travis, effectively giving him the upper hand, so I could apologize to Vera. It wasn't her fault she'd birthed a menace to society.

"Sorry, Vera," I said, and scooped a healthy amount onto my plate. "This looks great. Thank you."

She flashed me a proud smile before handing me the salad bowl. "You're very welcome. I hope you like it."

"Don't worry," Travis said, picking up the serving spoon the second I put it down. "Caleb likes almost everything."

Don't respond don't respond don't respond.

Instigator was Travis's middle name, though, and I could feel him watching me, waiting for my comeback.

Instead, I kept my head down and shoveled a forkful of the pasta into my mouth. It was just the right amount of cheesy, and the mix of chicken, enchilada sauce, and green chilis hit the spot.

"This is awesome," I said, scooping up another half a pasta shell. "Top ten for sure."

Her brows lifted. "Really? I got the recipe from a friend of mine, and I wasn't sure what you boys would think, so that's a relief."

"It's covered in cheese," Travis said. "What's not to like?"

A faint blush crept into Vera's cheeks, but she waved him off. "Just eat. Richard and I have a few things to discuss with you."

"Me personally?" Travis shook his head and wiped his mouth. "Has my outfit tonight convinced you I should be the one to overhaul Caleb's closet? Flannel doesn't suit anyone."

"Will you be serious for a second?" Dad answered.

Travis grinned around his fork. "I am being serious. Have you seen his jeans?"

"We've been hearing things about the behavior of you and those friends of yours?—"

"All good things, I'm sure."

"—and we think it's time you buckle down and find some direction. Like Caleb."

Travis turned his nose up and reached for his drink. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what a lame-ass he was. Didn't even last the whole night at our par?—"

I all but choked around my mouthful of food as my dad slammed his knife down onto his plate. It was a rare day he lost his temper, but the flush on his cheeks was definitely rage-related right now.

"See, it's this kind of behavior that isn't going to win you any favors."

Travis had never taken well to being reprimanded, even when we were back in high school, and that had only intensified since his time living alone and running wild with his know-it-all friends.

"You'd be surprised. My behavior gets me a lot of favors." Travis's eyes flicked back to mine, and the heat swirling there told me the exact kind of favors he was speaking of.

"Travis, don't be so crass." Vera sighed and shook her head, probably wondering how her little boy grew up to be the devil incarnate. "Richard is just trying to help you get some?—"

"Direction, I know. So this family dinner tonight is really some kind of intervention?"

"Well, I hardly think you would've shown up if we'd told you what we wanted to talk about."

"No shit I wouldn't. It's insulting." Travis's jaw twitched, and I saw a flash of hurt flicker across his features. "I have direction."

Vera reached across the table to where Travis was white knuckling his fork and covered his hand. "I know, baby. We just think if you did a little less partying and focused more, you'd be able to narrow down your major."

A tense silence descended over the table.

"I don't like being ambushed," Travis grumbled.

"And we don't like your behavior of late." Dad's comment earned him an icy glare, and while I should've been happy that Travis's irritation wasn't directed at me, I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. "You've been arrogant, hostile, and extremely self-involved whenever we've been around, and this constant bickering between you and Caleb has to stop."

"Well, that's not just me." Travis locked his gaze with mine. "He's just as much a part of the ‘bickering' as I am."

"We know." Those two words out of my dad's mouth were probably the only thing that could've had me looking away from Travis in that moment because, what the actual fuck? "And Vera and I have decided it's time to do something about it."

I needed to speak up, and soon, or else I had a feeling I'd be sitting next to Travis at family therapy.

"I don't need any kind of help or direction. I'm doing photography. You know that."

Vera looked between the two of us before bringing her napkin up to the corner of her lips. "We do know that. But this isn't just about you two."

"Meaning?"

"After our trip to Peru, we've realized we're holding on to too much. Too many material possessions that don't matter, too much resentment for things that happened before we got together. Even the way we've contributed to environmental hardships such as eating red meat and poultry?—"

Travis scoffed and pointed at his food with his fork. "Hate to break it to you, but chicken is poultry."

"Honey, that's not chicken. That's plant-based chicken, not the real thing."

Travis's fork dropped to the plate with a clatter while Vera beamed proudly.

"See? You couldn't even tell."

The mouthful I'd been chewing suddenly became much harder to eat, and I had to force myself to swallow down the fake chicken. Even I had my limits.

"Like I was saying," she continued. "It's wasteful to hold on to things, and we're spending so much that could go to causes we care about. Like donating to a wildlife fund in your name, Caleb."

Uh…thanks?

"Paying for three places in the city is completely unnecessary, and not what we had planned when you two went off to college, so we feel it's time we downsized."

My brows popped high. Where the hell was she going with this?

"So…" She looked at Dad, who cleared his throat to take over, and when he looked directly at me, I felt a wave of uneasiness roll through my stomach. I wasn't sure if it was the hint of apology in his eyes or the fake chicken. Probably both.

"We're selling your loft."

I think I blacked out for a second, because it sounded like he just said he was selling my place, but that was impossible.

"You'll be moving in with Travis."

The entire room went dead silent except for the mournful song on the record player that fit the mood too well to be a coincidence.

Dad was joking. He had to be. He would never do something like this, not when he knew how much I loved having my own space, my own loft. My place away from the drama at Astor. Hell, he hadn't heard a nice word uttered between me and Travis for years, so there was no way he'd force us together. It was insane. Laughable. It had to be a joke.

I forced my shoulders to relax as I reached for my beer. "Nice one, Dad. You got me."

I didn't have to look up to feel the tension radiating off Travis ease a little, at least until Dad shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Caleb," he said. "But we're serious. Vera and I aren't willing to pay for you both to have your own places any longer."

The ringing in my ears grew louder as I struggled to understand the words coming out of his mouth, but it didn't make sense.

"But…" I sputtered. "Why do I have to move? I didn't do anything wrong. You just said it yourself—Travis can't take anything seriously."

"Okay, Mr. Sanctimonious," Travis said. "I can take shit seriously. Not this, because this is the biggest crock of bullshit I've ever heard. But for the record, there's no way I'd leave the Towers to move into some dingy loft in Soho."

I gestured at Travis. "See? We can't even have a civil conversation."

"Then you're going to have to work on it." Dad's mouth was drawn into a firm, no-nonsense line that had my stomach sinking. Why did it feel like he'd already made up his mind on this and there'd be no changing it?

"If this is about money, just give me my trust early and I'll pay for it myself," I said.

"No."

"Then I'll get a job."

"You won't find one that'll cover your expenses," Dad said, swirling what remained of his wine. "And the why is because the Towers are closest to Astor. You won't have to worry about unreliable transportation, since you'll have Scotty for whatever you need."

"Wait a minute, aren't you guys forgetting something?" Travis said. "I already have a roommate. Preston. Remember him?"

I nodded eagerly. "That's right. You can't force him to move out."

"Oh, we didn't have to force anything." Vera smiled sweetly, as though talking to two people on the brink of a psychotic break. She wasn't far off. "In fact, it was talking to Archer that helped solidify this idea of ours. He just asked Preston to move in with him."

"The fuck he did," Travis said, his jaw hitting the table. "I think I'd know if one of my best friends was about to shack up with his man."

"Well, we asked them to keep it to themselves so we could?—"

"Ambush us?" Travis and I said at the exact same time, and that we were now on the same page was a testimony to how fucked up this entire situation was.

"We are not ambushing you," Dad said. "We are informing you of a decision we have made. It wasn't made lightly, but it has been made."

Travis slumped back in his seat. "Wow… I always knew you were a dick, but this?—"

"Travis, I will not have you talk to Richard like that," Vera said.

"Why? Because he dragged you to Peru and you got high on some woo-woo drugs that let him push you into this crazy plan?"

"How dare you." Vera shot to her feet, shoving her chair back with such force it almost fell over. "I swear, your mouth is going to get you into a world of trouble one day, Travis. You should know by now that nobody tells me what to do. If anything, it's your own outlandish behavior that pushed me into this decision."

High color spread down Travis's neck as he lowered his eyes to the plate, well and truly scolded but still not conceding.

Vera looked to me, a hopeful look in her eyes, as if I was going to agree with this asinine idea they had concocted."You understand, don't you, Caleb?"

She was joking, right? I was the one who was being asked to give up everything. How could she possibly expect me to understand? Probably because I was usually the more levelheaded one—but not about this.

In this instant, I was in full agreement with Travis. This was bullshit.

"No, sorry, I don't."

"Caleb," Dad said, and when I turned on him, he had the good grace to look pained. "We understand this means uprooting your life?—"

"Do you? Because to me it sounds like you don't really care."

"That's not true. It's because we care that we're doing this. You two"—he looked between me and Travis—"used to be best friends. What happened?"

We were not about to go into that with my dad. Hell, we couldn't even talk about it between the two of us, and the narrowed eyes boring a hole in the side of my head told me to keep my mouth shut.

As if I'd ever want to relive that particular time in my life anyway.

My dad ran a hand over his weary face and looked up the table to Vera, who'd retaken her seat, a look of exhaustion on her beautiful face.

"Fine. Keep your secrets." Dad shook his head. "But this animosity between you two, it doesn't only affect you. It causes tension between all of us, and Vera and I will not let some silly schoolboy argument come between our family. We love each other too much, and we love the both of you."

"Great way of showing it," Travis mumbled.

"It is," Vera said. "And maybe one day you'll understand that. We just want what's best for you both, and you were always happiest when you and Caleb were close."

"So you're just going to force the issue?"

"If we have to. You need to get your act together, Travis. You can't just waltz through life thinking everything will fall at your feet. You are privileged, but I didn't raise you to be a petulant brat."

"And dumping him on me"—Travis gestured in my direction—"is supposed to make me, what? Change my bratty ways?"

"Or help you grow up a little. Caleb knows what he wants?—"

Travis scoffed, and I was back to wanting to kick him under the table.

"Sure he does."

"He does. He has direction and applies himself. I'm hoping if you spend some time together that maybe he'll rub off on you."

And for the first time since our parents had launched their nuclear attack, Travis's scowl morphed into what I could only describe as a taunting sneer.

"You know what, Mom? I think that might be the first thing I agree with you on tonight."

"Exactly," she said, oblivious to what Travis really meant. But now I had something else to worry about on top of leaving my sanctuary behind. "This is going to work out, I can just feel it."

I looked to my dad one last time as though he could save me from that scheming bitch fate, but just like always, she won out.

From the day Travis and I had met, it seemed our destinies were entwined. I'd done my best over the years to untangle myself from his web, only to find myself again ensnared in it, and the worst part about it all was our parents had no idea what they'd just done.