The Consequence of Falling: New York Times Bestselling Author Page 9

  “I’m not doing well,” Dad said finally. My gaze flew toward his. “Health-wise. I’m not doing well. Between the stroke, the diabetes, and my inability to quit smoking . . .” He shrugged.

  “You told me you quit.” I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the unexpected tears I felt forming. “You told me you felt fine.”

  “I feel fine enough.” He smiled sadly. “But according to my neurologist, things aren’t looking so good for my brain.”

  “What does that mean?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “My brain isn’t recovering as well as we’d hoped.” He turned his attention back to the field. “Therapy isn’t helping like it used to in the beginning. My face feels different. I feel different.”

  “That’s why you sold half the company.”

  “That’s part of it, yes.” He met my eyes again. “After the divorce, I had a hard time getting back on my feet.”

  I let that sink in. My parents divorced when I was in high school, still in that ritzy private school, doing ritzy private school-girl things. Mom’s lifestyle didn’t change much. We’d stayed in the house I’d grown up in, a mansion by most accounts, in a high-end neighborhood, attending fashion shows and galas. My life hadn’t changed at all. Dad’s had, but he’d made excuses for everything he sold and the changes he made in his life. He was living by himself so he didn’t need such a big house, and he definitely hadn’t needed more than one. He’d said he didn’t need a driver or more than one car. He’d said he didn’t need the excess of things we’d been afforded our entire lives.

  It was reasonable and easy to believe because nobody needed any of that. Those were luxuries few people were afforded. The possibility that my mom had taken him to the cleaners was not something that would have ever occurred to me or crossed my mind. Of course it wouldn’t. I was a selfish brat. I could practically hear Nathaniel saying that about me right now. If he was here, he’d probably give me the I told you so look. And hadn’t he? Hadn’t he tried to tell me that my father was having a hard time? Hadn’t he tried to get me to open my eyes? I closed them now, and wished I’d been a little kinder to the man sitting beside me. God, I was so stupid. And now I was running out of time. Now, all the years of bickering and ignored phone calls on my end seemed so petty and insignificant. I wanted to say something, to tell him I was sorry, to express so many things, but the words wouldn’t come. The blockage in my throat was too heavy, too big and painful. So instead of speaking, I laid my hand on his and squeezed. When he squeezed back, I knew words hadn’t been necessary. He knew.

  Sixteen

  The building felt desolate when I got there, only a few people had their office lights on. The entire marketing area was still empty and neat, a sign that none of them had yet been here to disrupt the space. I walked over to see if they’d left anything out by any chance and had started working on ideas for the brewery. I’d ended up naming it Hops BrewHaus, not because I loved it, but because Dad had formed an LLC and bought the domain years ago and it was the easiest name to use in such short notice.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fuck.” I jumped at the sound of Nathaniel’s voice and dropped the stapler I’d picked up to move off the table. “Damn it, Nathaniel. What is your problem?”

  “What is yours?” He switched on the lights. My eyes widened. What was he doing? He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Are you snooping?”

  “I’m not . . . I’m . . .” I blinked a few times. Damn it, I was snooping. “I was just trying to see if they’d started working on stuff for Hops.”

  He chuckled, pushing off the frame and walking toward me. “So you are snooping.”

  “Sort of.” I bit my lip, no use in denying it.

  “Did you find anything?”

  “No. Not yet anyway. You came in before I had a chance to look at whatever is underneath this cover.”

  “You don’t think you should wait until they show you?”

  “I guess.”

  “The plumbing inspector called me,” he said. “Said he’d been trying to get hold of you but couldn’t.”

  I frowned. “I don’t have any missed calls or messages from him.”

  “Must have been Friday. That’s when he called me.”

  “Oh. How’d he get your number?”

  He searched my face for a beat before saying, “They have their ways.”

  “Hm. What’d he want?”

  “He said one of the sinks wasn’t working properly.”

  “Oh fuck.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll get it fixed ASAP.”

  “You better,” he said, the amusement vanishing from his tone. “A lot depends on this opening. It’s not only about you looking good, you know?”

  “I never said it was.”

  “I’m reminding you in case you forgot. I know you have a difficult time thinking about others sometimes.”

  My mouth dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you opening up this business in time,” he said. “You hired all these people but haven’t given them an exact start date. You keep going out of town with your dad, which I respect, but you have a job to do and you can’t expect me to pick up the ball every time you drop it. I’m an investor in this company. I’m helping sort shit out here, I told you I’d help out with a few things over there, but I don’t want you to take that as me doing all of your work for you.”

  “I don’t want you to do everything for me. I’ll call the plumber and have him—”

  “I already did that. The sink is fixed. You need to call the inspector to go back and re-inspect.”

  “When did you fix it?”

  “When you were gone. I didn’t want to have one more thing pending.”

  I swallowed back my pride. “Thank you.”

  He nodded sharply. “I have a few things to take care of before I go back to my office, but I should be in the brewery later on with the drop for the boiler.”

  I wanted to ask him about that. I wanted to know how he planned to change the game when it came to adding flavors to the beers, but I bit my tongue. I didn’t want him to think I was interested in anything he was doing. Not after his outburst. And maybe that was petty and stupid and small, but around him I felt immaterial. “I don’t want you to take that as me doing all of your work for you.” Why bother fighting? I wanted to understand the process involved and what Nathaniel thought it would add to the bottom line in the future, but I didn’t. I’d simply never measure up, so it wasn’t worth pushing against another testosterone-infused wall.

  Seventeen

  Nathaniel

  I was pissed. I’d spent my weekend at the brewery fixing shit and making sure everything was running well enough for the inspectors to sign off on it while she’d been traveling across the country with her father. I’d done it because it was in my best interest as well as Winston’s. I’d done it because I knew what it was like to depend on a paycheck, and the people we were hiring needed theirs, especially right before the holidays. None of this seemed to cross Presley’s mind though. She was always so caught up in what was happening in her own life, that she didn’t stop to think about it. I’d gone off on her because of that—because all I’d wanted was a simple acknowledgement that I was doing things she should have been doing—but the moment she thanked me and I saw the look in her eyes, I regretted being so harsh.

  Despite her poor attitude toward me, I knew she wasn’t selfish. I knew she was kindhearted and wanted to prove to her father that she was a worthy employee. She was in over her head—especially when it came to starting a business from scratch—but I wanted to fortify her not vilify her. She needed to know that I wanted her to succeed because she deserved to. Especially after what her husband put her through. I’d been right about him not being the man for her, but had no idea that union would scar her so deeply. Fuck, how many times had I wondered if I should have done more than kiss her on her wedding day? I’d never forgotten it. I’d wanted he
r then, and I knew I wanted her more than anything now, even after all of these years. As if she’d know that after my brutal attack just now. Idiot.

  I needed to simmer down on the insults if I wanted her to even entertain the idea of dating me.

  Eighteen

  “I seriously just want to be done with all of this.”

  I was in a high-rise office, sitting across from Adam and his lawyer. Beside me, was the lawyer Victor had put me in touch with, the one who’d been trying to get me to take something, anything from Adam even though I steadily refused.

  “I’m with her on this,” Adam said, looking between my attorney and me. “I want this to be as painless as possible. I’ve already put her through enough.”

  “You called the meeting.” That was my attorney.

  “Because we need to discuss the future of the foundation. Realistically, neither one of us has the time to deal with it right now.”

  “We have staff, Adam. Cut the bullshit. You want to keep it solely under your name.” I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to deny that.

  “I do.”

  I took a deep breath. Fuck. I knew it would come to this. We’d discussed it before and agreed I’d stay on the board, but I hadn’t really thought about completely handing it over. It was what I worked on the most during our marriage, building relationships with different after-school programs for underprivileged kids. It was a non-for-profit and right now there was absolutely no profit being made by either of us. The foundation hadn’t recovered any of the money we’d invested in it and it probably wouldn’t for a couple of years even though we both knew once it did, it would blossom fully and beautifully. Someday soon, it would be worth a lot of money. My attorney cleared his throat beside me. I knew what he was thinking. How much is this worth to you? Let’s take it. I thought about my father and the way he’d lost so much—his marriage, living under the same roof with his family. Everything flipped for him in the blink of an eye in such similar circumstances. We’d both been cheated on, taken advantage of, and yet we held no ill will toward the person responsible. Under different circumstances, maybe I would’ve fought for the foundation, but I already had so many things I needed to right in my life. I needed time with my dad. I needed to build this brewery and make it the best I could, for him. For me. For our family name. I looked up at Adam.

  “You can have it.”

  “Mrs. Delaney—” my attorney started.

  “Miss Rose.” I cut him off with a glare. “Like I’ve said a million times, I want to be done with this.”

  We finished the meeting and signed the last of the agreement. Apparently that was all politicians needed to do in order to get a divorce because our attorneys congratulated us on getting it done and announced us divorced. I didn’t thank them. It felt weird to go that far. I walked out of the room and left the three men behind me. Normally, I called Jamie in a time like this, but she was out of town. Most of our other friends were married with babies, so I couldn’t exactly ask them to meet me at a bar. I had too much work to do to stop for a drink anyway, so I headed to the brewery instead. Hopefully within those walls there would be solace and peace. Besides, at least there I’m needed.

  Nineteen

  I was on the phone with my mother when I got to the brewery and saw Nathaniel’s sports car in the parking lot.

  “Mom, I have to let you go. I just got here.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Call me when you get a chance. Even better, come visit me. I know you promised your dad this year, but I want to spend time with you too.”

  “You’re like a twelve-hour plane ride, Mom. Not exactly a hop, skip, and a jump.”

  “Well, it’ll be worth it. There are a lot of cute boys here who are dying to meet you. Constantine’s nephew has been staying with us the last few weeks. He’s so handsome and I just know you’d hit it off.”

  “That sounds a little incestual, Mom.” I laughed as I pulled the door to the brewery open.

  “Oh, nonsense. I’m going to send you a photo.”

  “Mom.”

  “Check your phone in five minutes. I love you, sweetie. Talk to you soon.”

  “Love you too.” I hung up the phone and sighed heavily.

  “Long day?”

  I jumped and turned to face Nathaniel, who was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that looked like it could’ve been white once upon a time, but was now as filthy as his large hands.

  “What in the world have you been doing?”

  “Working.” He raised an eyebrow. “What have you been doing? Obviously not working.”

  “I was in a meeting. Last I checked, I can totally work in this outfit though.” I looked down at the lacy black dress I was wearing. Okay, so it was too short and flowy for work, but my entire chest was covered. I met his eyes again. “It was hot today and I hadn’t been able to wear this since I got it off the summer clearance rack.”

  “You buy things off the clearance racks?”

  “You don’t have to look so shocked.” I rolled my eyes. He didn’t need to know that it was off the clearance rack of a high-end boutique. “I am in the middle of a divorce, you know?”

  “I took you as the petty type,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes that made it difficult to measure whether or not he was totally kidding. “You know, the type to go to max out your husband’s credit cards right before you leave him.”

  “Well, I’m not, but it’s nice to know you still think so highly of me.” I turned around and walked toward the back of the brew house.

  It seemed like there was still so much to do. As I reached the large wood door that led to the coppers, I focused on the questions I had for Ezra, the head brewer. The main one was, when will the first four beers be ready to drink and how many glasses of it would we be able to fill? I was hoping the answer was now and a lot. Pulling open the door, I instantly smelled the malty aroma that the brew process provided.

  Even after all these years, if you made me take a test to name all the steps in brewing, I’d probably fail. I recognized the large kettles and the mash tuns nearby, and knew that the lauter tun was used to separate the wort from the solids of the mash like a giant sieve. Where most breweries had large stainless steel vessels, we had the classic copper. Dad was willing to compromise on a lot—cheaper floors than he would’ve liked, more affordable alternatives for the taps and bar area—but the coppers were where he drew the line. I finally spotted Ezra with a tiny clear cup in his hand near one of the coppers.

  “Drinking on the job?” I joked.

  “I have to walk the walk.” He laughed. “Can’t be selling beers we don’t appreciate ourselves.”

  “Definitely not.” I smiled, giving him a hug when I finally reached him.

  I’d known Ezra since I was a little girl. He was probably a little younger than me when he started working for Dad in the main brewery. In the past few years, he’d scaled back on his hours, but when he heard I was opening this place up right by his house, he asked if he could work here. We would’ve been stupid to turn him down. He knew every recipe for every beer to the point that if you blindfolded him and let him compare two different brands, I’d bet he’d name them correctly.

  “How’s this one?” I asked, pulling away from him.

  “I’ll let you decide.” He turned around, picked up a cup and poured me some. I took a sip and felt my face light up.

  “This is the guava?”

  “This is the guava.” He smiled wide. “Your creation is going to be a hit.”

  “Oh my God, I hope so.” I laughed and drank the remainder of my cup in one large gulp. “I can’t believe it tastes so good.”

  “It still needs to brew another week, but I think it’s safe to say it’ll be great.”

  “Thank you for trying it.”

  “Of course, my girl.” He took the empty glass from my hand and tossed it into the recycling. “What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted an update on the beers. We’re supposed to open by the end of the mon
th, but nothing is ready and I hadn’t even considered how much it would suck if the actual beers weren’t ready either.”

  “They’ll be ready.” He looked around, bringing his hand up to stroke his long, red beard. “The only one that may not be ready is the Deutsche brew, but the October will be, the guava, the lager, White Oak. You’ll be fine.”

  I closed my eyes and relished the relief that came with those words: You’ll be fine. I sampled another beer and waved him goodbye as he closed up and left through the back of the building. I’d completely forgotten about Nathaniel until I started making my way back to the dining hall. He’d probably left and I hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask him what he’d done today. I walked behind the bar and reached down for a glass and the bottle of whiskey I’d stashed there. Once I poured myself a good amount, I walked around the bar and sipped as I headed outside to examine the light situation. It was a gorgeous day, conflicting with the rest of the days this week.

  With no sign of Nathaniel, I plopped down on the two-seater cocoon swing outside and closed my eyes. I was no longer Mrs. Delaney. I was officially Miss Rose again. The thought hurt a little, but not as much as I thought it would. Maybe it was because we’d been living such separate lives for so long, sleeping on polar ends of our California king, not touching in any way that mattered, not discussing anything other than his politics.

  “You look like a picture, princess.”

  I jolted, spilling some of my drink on my exposed knee. “Damn you, Nathaniel. Look what you made me do.”

  He chuckled, his eyes clocking the liquid I was currently brushing off my leg. “I would apologize, but that was the best thing I’ve seen all week.”