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Frasier joined his son, dressed in his finest dark three-piece suit. He patted Tristan on the back in a placating manner. No genuine affection was involved. “I hear you and your mother had a disagreement.”
Tristan laughed sardonically. “No disagreement. I meant what I said. If either of you do anything to get Calista fired, you can find yourself a new CEO.”
“You don’t mean that,” Frasier disagreed.
Tristan turned toward him, his eyes boring into his father’s so he would know just how serious he was. “I’m not bluffing.”
“Son, what is this girl to you? Don’t you remember all the problems she caused? Hell, she got you arrested.”
Tristan clenched his fists. “First, she’s not a girl. She’s an intelligent and compassionate woman. A doctor. And you know damn well I willingly accepted the fall for the puppy mill thing.”
“You would have never been in that position if it weren’t for her.”
“She didn’t make me do anything. Besides, you made it all go away, so it’s a moot point.”
“Are you dating her again?”
Tristan heard the plea in his father’s voice. It ticked him off even more. “No. But even if I were, it’s none of your business.”
“It is if she hurts the company.”
“I’m sure you meant to say me, right?”
Frasier cleared his throat. “That’s a given.”
“Is it?” Tristan questioned.
“Where is all this coming from? You were fine until she came back into town.”
Tristan shook his head, amazed his parents were so blind. Either that or they just didn’t care about him. Maybe it was his own fault for keeping his feelings hidden all these years. “No, Dad, I haven’t been fine. My jerk of a brother just died, leaving behind a brokenhearted daughter and a wreck of a wife. All the while, we’re having a dinner party, eating ridiculously overpriced food, pretending like it never happened. Most families are giving thanks today, remembering why they love each other. And I’m questioning if you or Mother ever loved me at all.”
Frasier’s jaw dropped. “Of course we love you.”
“If that’s the case, Calista is off limits. Do you understand?”
His father’s tan-lined face turned fifty shades of red. “She’s no good for you.”
“You’re wrong. But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Good,” Frasier huffed.
“I mean it, Dad. Don’t harm her. If not for me, think about Quinn. It would devastate her if Calista left.”
Frasier still wasn’t sold on the idea. “She has Stella.”
“News flash: Stella’s a mess. How could she not be, after what Jonathon did to her?”
Frasier waved his hand around, not wanting to hear it.
Heaven forbid his parents face the truth that their youngest was a douchebag.
Tristan pushed off the rail. “Believe what you want. But know I’m serious about walking away from the company and this family if necessary. I’m tired of these games, and I can live off my investments if needed. Hell, I could start my own company if I had to,” he threatened. It’s not like he had never thought about it. Like he said before, he liked the game. And maybe it was time to make his own and set the rules.
Frasier’s brow got lost in his receding hairline. “You would do that to this family?”
“What family, Dad?” He walked off, back into the warm house that felt colder than outside.
Quinn and Stella had arrived. Quinn wore a pretty pink dress, and Stella was as nonpresent as ever, texting furiously. His niece stared at her mom, downtrodden.
