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One of the reasons he had to keep reminding himself to not be a twat was because that’s what their father was.
A selfish, ambitious prick. André had spent far too much of his life trying to win his respect and approval.
He’d never gotten it.
It didn’t matter that he’d sacrificed any kind of a social life as a child, teen, and adult in order to excel at school. Which he had. He’d graduated early, with honors. Then he’d gotten dual degrees in geology and archeology. No time to breathe, he got his master’s in paleontology.
He’d decided to go to graduate school in America though.
And that’s really where the cracks in their relationship began to show through.
He was tired of living half a world away from his sister. Who was the only family member he liked.
So as soon as he could, he’d moved to Chicago, where he’d earned his master’s.
Having spent twelve years in London, the transition back wasn’t as difficult as his father warned it would be. Maybe that was because he embraced being an American as aggressively as his father had rejected it.
He’d never regretted it.
And for the most part, Dad left them both alone.
The only reason he’d be calling Sabine would be to get something out of it for himself.
She’d married a rock star a couple months ago. The media storm had probably breached René’s thick cloud of football and football-related interests.
It was best if Sabine didn’t take his call.
André made a mental note to call his dad and distract him from bothering Sabine. She didn’t need to deal with him. André had had years of practice; he could do it.
He went to a drive-through and got a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, then headed toward Avondale for another day of trying inconspicuously to impress a certain producer.
The song “The World’s a Mess, It’s in My Kiss” by X came on his playlist and he froze.
Every other time this had happened he’d automatically skipped it.
He hadn’t willingly listened to this song in, well, more than two and a half years. Instead of reaching for his phone to skip the track as he usually did, he turned the volume up.
He turned off the AC and rolled the windows down.
The hot July wind whipped through his BMW, and he breathed deeply.
His body relaxed in his seat, and he rested an arm along the open window, propping his opposite wrist on top of his steering wheel.
The fatigue he’d been feeling from his lack of sleep the night before swept away with the wind and the driving beat of one of his favorite bands of all time.
His previous thoughts about his father faded, and he went back to thinking about how last night had ended.
How lucky he felt being able to make sure Nikki got home safe. He didn’t even care that he’d had to deal with drunk Ryan for that to happen.
He’d gotten Ryan home without issue last night and helped him get to bed. But not before Ryan made him a grilled cheese for his trouble. Then André had had to Uber back to the stadium for his car before he could go home himself.
It had been a weird night.
Weird but awesome.
His brain was still buzzing from having spent hours seated beside Nikki at the ballgame.
She was just so…great.
