Chapter 28 Gus

"Go get her," Brent orders as he enters the kitchen, his face serious.

Confused, I look up from my breakfast. I've been pushing yogurt around a bowl for the last twenty minutes, thinking about how Julia loved eating Greek yogurt in the morning. She loved it so much, I was already looking into getting cases of it shipped to the cabin weekly because they don't sell the brand she likes on this side of the country.

"What are you talking about?"

"Julia," Brent clarifies needlessly. "Go get her. Get in your big, fancy plane, fly to Paris, and go get her."

I drop my spoon into my bowl and take a deep breath. I've been trying a new thing called, "staying calm." It's going well.

"Why would I?" I ask softly, working hard to keep the annoyance off my face.

"Because you obviously want to."

"So?"

Brent takes a seat at the kitchen island across from me. "Look, I've been in Montana for a month now, and you've been despondent—even for you."

I shoot him a glare. "I may not pay you anymore," I remind him, "but I sure as shit can make you homeless, Brent."

So much for staying calm.

He sighs for what must be the millionth time this month, a placid expression on his face, something between amusement and tedium. "Do you remember how we met, boss?"

"The flat on Juniper Street."

"Right, but how we actually met," he pushes. "As in, how we actually got to know each other."

"You lived across the hall."

"And you did so much cocaine that you passed out in the hallway with a bloody nose one night," Brent reminds me. "I found you, cleaned you up, and you told me all about a woman named Constance who broke up with you because she didn't think you were enough for her. Not rich enough. Not ambitious enough. Not connected enough. But you swore to me, in your coke-addled stupor, that you were going to change the world. You promised me you were going to become rich, famous, and so powerful that people would piss themselves to know you."

"What's your point?" I grunt. Nowadays, the memory of Constance doesn't plague me with shame and embarrassment like it used to, but nobody enjoys a play-by-play recap of the time they went on a bad coke bender.

"Well, all those things you mentioned, you made happen," Brent replies. "You changed the world and became rich, famous, and so powerful that people would piss themselves to know you. Gus Winter, you make everything happen..."

I sigh and grab my coffee mug to get a refill, recognizing this conversation won't be a short one.

"…Until Julia Ridgeway came into your life."

"Oh, here we go."

"Seriously," he presses. He stands to follow me around the kitchen island. "You obviously want her, so go get her."

"Can't. Her father has as many resources as I do. He was clear: if I'm in her life, he's cutting her off."

"Yeah, but you're a billionaire. She doesn't need his money."

"But she has a father." I turn and face him again. "And two brothers. She has family traditions. Thanksgivings. Easters. Christmas parties. The works. If her father cuts her off, she loses everything. I've spent my whole life missing the family I never had. I'm not going to take her family from her."

He frowns before shaking his head. "But you had a family."

"What are you talking about? I'm an only child whose dad died and mom abandoned him when he was young. I didn't have shit."

"So all those things you did with your grandparents meant nothing? Look, maybe it's not the postcard, picture book life you would have picked, but it was your life. Your family. Families look different, Gus. Julia is always going to have a family with you, even if it's not the one she expected."

I put my mug on the counter and run my hand over my face, imagining a world where it's Julia, me, and our kids. In this fantasy, the kids are running around the backyard like maniacs while I chase them around like a werewolf or a bear or something where I can really growl and roar. While we run, Julia is taking pictures and filming us, maybe holding another baby, and she's laughing out loud. She looks so pretty surrounded by our children.

"I don't mean to snap," I tell Brent before I lower my eyes to the floor. I've been practicing putting my feelings into words with Julia's help and it gets easier every day, but it's still a muscle I need to build. I look up at Brent again. "I just…"

Brent nods supportively, his eyes locked on mine.

"I've wondered if I'm supposed to have a family. I've been on my own for so long."

"Of course you're supposed to have a family," he replies, frowning at me like I'm a bloody idiot. "Gus, this whole thing started because you wanted to leave something monumental behind. You told me you were selling FundRight because you wanted to focus on building your legacy. I know you're working on a book, but honestly…this could be your legacy."

"What, a family? You think my legacy is going to be a wife and kids?"

He nods—he's fucking nuts.

"Brent, the idea that I would give up a fifty-billion-dollar enterprise to…I don't know. Have a girlfriend. Maybe propose to her. Marry her and have five kids with her. It seems…"

My imagination runs wild again. Julia standing in this very kitchen, stirring a pot of beef bourguignon while our dog watches her every move, hoping she'll drop something he can snatch up and eat in the backyard. And maybe our daughter will sit on the other side of the kitchen island, playing with her tablet while Julia shoots me an annoyed look because I caved and let the kids do screen time too young, but I just wanted to make them happy. It"s too banal for a tech legend and a socialite who could go anywhere on earth and be treated like royalty at the drop of a hat. And yet…

"It sounds incredible," I admit as acceptance washes over me. "God, I love her. I love her and I want to marry her. Forget everything I've ever said about love and marriage. I want to spend the rest of my life tangling up my existence with hers."

"So go get her," Brent implores. "For fuck's sake, you stupid, rich idiot. Pull together your limitless resources, and go get her."

He's right.

"Yeah," I decide aloud. "I'm going to get my girl." I repeat this two more times before I hastily clean up my breakfast and start planning my next move.

"And, boss," Brent calls after me when I'm about to leave the kitchen.

I turn in the doorway.

"Even after your grandparents died, you had a family. You may have paid me a lot, but I stuck around because you're my brother."

I don't hesitate this time. I pull Brent into a hug and clutch him tightly, to the point where he's probably uncomfortable. It's a big American bear hug, the kind they only give in England if they're pleasantly drunk. Brent is stone cold sober, but if there's one thing I've learned from Julia, it's to tell someone how you feel as soon as possible.

"I love you, Brent," I murmur into the hug. "Thanks."

He pats me on the shoulder, his posture stiff and likely confused, but I don't mind. He's been my brother since day one. I never would have made it this far in life without him.

I did have a family. I do have a family. And now, I'm ready to start my own family. All I need is to find a way to be with Julia.

Luckily, I have a deal in mind. I always do.