Forty-Three

When we enter my condo, Dalton is sitting on the couch next to Essie and Cora, who are casually eating a batch of stress brownies I baked at three in the morning. He has a glass of something amber in his hand, and I know him well enough to assume it's not his first of the night.

"Dalton," Valeria begins when she sees him. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, but—"

He raises a shoulder, resigned. "No need to explain. I think I've figured it out. My dad's a cunt, so I assume he did something cunty."

"He did," she confirms. "But as someone whose father is also a…"

"A cunt," Dalton fills in firmly.

"Right. Well, I know it can be hard to stomach. I hope we're good." Her expression is hopeful.

"No shit," Dalton replies, no hesitation whatsoever. "You're my cornhole partner for life."

"Okay, wow. Dalton, we're going to have to talk about you publicly dropping me as your partner at another time," Everett remarks. "But right now, we're here to talk about Lander." He faces me. "Lan, it's time to let go of Stafford."

"I can," I say, nodding. "I will. If it's a choice between Stafford and Valeria, I'm picking Valeria. But if there's a way—"

"Stop," Everett interrupts, holding up his hand to silence me, and I still hate when he does that. "Even if there is a way, you can't pursue it. It's time to let go of Stafford—before it's too late."

Perplexed, I look around the room. Everyone except Valeria looks completely unsurprised by Everett's suggestion. "Wait, is this an intervention?"

"Impromptu, yes," Everett concedes. "I mean, it's the worst fucking intervention ever." He bobs his head in the direction of Essie and Cora. "Half the attendees learned what Stafford is three minutes ago."

"Go fuck your own face, Everett," Cora replies before biting into a brownie, glaring.

Everett flips her off. "Anyway, Lander, Dalton has something to tell you that might add some color to this conversation."

"Ev…" Dalton murmurs before taking a sip of his drink. He sounds exhausted. "Enough is happening already. I don't see why—"

"Tell him," Everett urges, his tone unwavering. "Or I will."

Dalton takes a deep breath before he looks at me, bracing himself. "Lander, thirteen years ago, your father's heart attack wasn't unexpected."

There it is. That fucking record scratch again.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I question faintly, glancing between Dalton and Everett. I've never seen the identical looks of pity on their faces before.

"Two years ago, I was in my father's office and I found a copy of your dad's will," Dalton explains.

"My father didn't have a will."

"He did," Dalton insists. "It was written six months before he died and was notarized—totally legit. My father was the executor."

"A forty-year-old doesn't write a will," Everett fills in, even though I already know what he's getting at, "unless…"

"Unless he thought he was going to die," I finish.

Dalton nods. "I asked my dad about it, and he swore me to secrecy. Apparently, your dad's physician warned him he needed to take time off and avoid stress. His blood pressure was some obscene level, but Stafford was in the middle of a lawsuit at the time, and he wasn't willing to step back."

"Six months later…" Everett trails off.

I swallow hard, and when I do, I realize my stomach hurts. I force out an exhale and a shrug, grateful for Valeria rubbing a gentle circle on my back. "Alright, so my dad worked himself to death. It doesn't mean—"

"No, it does mean he picked his career over you." Everett steps closer to me. "It's difficult to hear, but it's true."

Defensiveness strikes me, a long-honed gut reaction. "Fine. What do you want me to say? My dad didn't love me. Didn't give a shit about me, apparently. Why are you telling me this now? You've both obviously known for a while. Were you waiting until I drove myself into the ground to get Stafford?"

"Lander, we're doing it for her," Everett explains, flicking his chin at Valeria and shrugging as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I glance at Valeria, whose eyebrows have shot up. Over on the couch, Cora lowers her brownie. Her brow is a knot, framing a cross between shock and revelation on her face, and Everett is in her line of sight.

Everett doesn't notice though. He's too busy walking towards me and placing both his hands on my shoulders. He looks right into my eyes when he says, "It was one thing when you were the only one who had to endure the consequences, but Valeria deserves better than a guy who may wreck himself over a job he doesn't even like."

If I hadn't already thrown up today, I'd be ruining Everett's nice ass shoes right now. Valeria has questioned my love for my job before, and nearly every time, I've rejected the idea. She was right though; they're all right.

I don't even like my job.After everything I've sacrificed and lost, how could I?

"We're also saying this for you, obviously," Dalton chimes in. "You deserve better than a job that forces you to be someone you're not. And if that's not persuasive enough, give up Stafford for me because I need you to do something I can't do myself."

"Which is?" I ask.

"I want you to destroy my father," Dalton announces.

My jaw lowers slowly, but I don't realize it's happening until Everett reaches over and taps my chin. "Hear that, Machiavelli? Consent from the next of kin. You should destroy the fucker."

"I can't," I mutter, shaking my head without stopping. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. If anything, destroying people is what you do best." Everett smirks.

"My father is a menace who needs to be stopped, but I can't do it. If he and I are warring, it's going to kill my mom. Plus..." Dalton sighs. "You're the only person who can really hurt him. He always wished you were his son."

"Dalton, that's not true," I object.

Dalton's brows skyrocket. "He literally once said to your father, ‘I wish Lander were my son.'"

"Dalton, he's your dad. I can't break up your family."

"Yeah, he's my dad, but what's blood? You and I aren't blood, and right after my mom, there's nobody on the planet I love more than you and Ev, Lander." He faces Valeria. "And if Lander loves you, I love you too. I mean it. I've never told a woman I love her before, so I'm dead serious about this. Blood doesn't mean anything to me, and based on the track record of the people in this room, none of us should care about it."

"The feeling is mutual," Valeria replies, smiling softly.

The tight feeling in my chest is either anger or heartache. Maybe they go hand in hand. I worked for so long to honor my father, pouring everything into this precise moment in my career. Stafford was always his legacy, so it had to be mine too.

But for the first time in my life, I realize: I should have been his legacy. He should have been there for my lacrosse games. He should have seen me graduate from high school and college and fucking law school. Hell, he should have had the decency to remember to wave at me when he walked in the door.

Dalton is right. Blood doesn't mean anything. Blood has given me nothing but grief and insurmountable expectations. The realest and most unwavering love I've ever experienced is from the people in this room. There's not a drop of shared blood between us, but fuck if this isn't a family.

"I love you too, Dalton. Ev." I face Valeria. "And I love you—I love you so goddamn much."

"Likewise," she assures me needlessly. I know.

I turn to her friends. "Cora and Essie—I'll never be able to repay you for being here for Valeria for these past two years. I'll be indebted to you both forever. Oh, and I love you."

"Lander, we loved you the minute you bought Valeria a dildo," Essie replies, pretending not to see Dalton and Everett exchange a perplexed look. Cora nods along with her.

I face Valeria. "What do you think? Apparently, a little destruction is in order."

"I think you should take Stafford," she replies evenly, bobbing her chin.

I frown—but nowhere as aggressively as Everett does.

"Did you not hear what we said?" he blurts out. "Stafford is more poisonous than DDT and it's the last thing Frank has over him. He needs to stay away at all costs."

"I know," Valeria replies, unfazed. She faces me. "Which is why you need to fight for it. If you reveal you don't want it, Frank will have no leverage."

"And when Frank doesn't have leverage, he finds some," I realize aloud. "You're brilliant. This is why I need you if I'm going to destroy Frank."

Valeria's brow furrows. "Where do I come in?"

I nod, already moving chess pieces in my head, and turn towards the couch. "Essie, when you do viewer analytics, do you get any IP data?"

"Little bit," she replies, shrugging. "But I can get you more."

"Perfect. And Cora, you know human behavior. What are the chances Frank is still watching Valeria's streams?"

"A rich egomaniac who betrays his wife, has adopted his dead best friend's son as a proxy successor in lieu of his own son, and works at a multi-billion-dollar firm with his name on the building?" Cora rolls her eyes. "Odds couldn't be closer to a guarantee."

I exhale, heart racing. "This could work..."

"I'm too terrified to even speculate about what's brewing in your brain right now," Valeria mentions, but she's clearly intrigued. "What are you going to do?"

"It all comes down to us, actually." I grin and touch her chin, tilting it upwards so she's staring right into my eyes. "Baby…are you down for one more scheme?"