Page 99 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“I’ll be in touch.” I’d never done that before. Never walked away from my father. Never told him no. It was freeing.

I walked toward my car, pulled out my phone, and called Finn. “Are you free?”

“Where are we going? Cancun? St. Tropez? Ibiza?”

“I need a drink in the United States.”

“You need something a hell of a lot stronger than a drink, brother.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “Meet me at McGinty’s in an hour.”

McGinty’s was a dive bar in Brooklyn that Finn had discovered during one of his many phases of slumming it with normal people. Dark wood, sticky floors, the kind of place where nobody gave a shit if your last name was Bancroft or Smith. The kind of place that didn’t appreciate guys in five-thousand-dollar suits.

I stopped by my apartment and changed into jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. Then I found Finn at the bar nursing what looked like whiskey, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of boots that made him look like a biker. Getting his fashion tips from our cousin Mason apparently.

I sat down at the table that had been carved with some very colorful language. The server was a woman with impressive tattoos. She put a whiskey in front of me without asking what I wanted.

I took a drink. Then another.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Just left Dad’s office.”

“How’d that go?”

“About as well as you’d expect.” I finished the whiskey and held up my glass to the bartender. “I told him I’m taking a step back from the company.”

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not.”

Two more whiskeys were delivered.

“Cash Bancroft—perfect son, golden child, daddy’s favorite errand boy—told Armand Bancroft he’s taking a step back?”

“Don’t make me regret telling you.”

“I’m not making you regret anything. I’m celebrating.” He raised his glass. “It’s about goddamn time.”

We drank.

“He’s not going to let it go,” I said after a while.

“Probably not.”

“I’m leaving the company high and dry.”

“Cash.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re spiraling. I can see it happening. You’re already second-guessing yourself, already coming up with reasons why you should go crawling back and apologize.” He leaned closer. “So I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it honestly.”

“What question?”

“What do you want?”