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“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.
Chapter 29: Julia
I’m so vastly under-qualified for my job, it’s not even funny. Well, it is funny. The funny part is how ridiculously good I am. Seriously. Profits have gone up in the Swedish, French, and German branches of my father’s empire since I joined the company three months ago.
However, I can now confidently say I’m not meant to have an office job…but I’ll never actually say it aloud because it would prove my father right.
This shit is so boring though.
Sighing, I scroll through the massive Excel file one of my colleagues just sent to me. It’s linked in an email with a single word: Thoughts?
My respect for Davis has multiplied exponentially over the last six weeks. Calcifying at a desk and reviewing financials and emailing about meetings that should have just been emails in the first place is truly one of the circles of hell. When my father shipped me out to Paris, I thought he wanted to protect me. I now realize he wanted to torture me.
Rolling my eyes, I respond to my colleague’s email with, Interesting. I think we should add this to the agenda for tomorrow.
Almost immediately, he tells me he agrees completely.
