HADYN
My main gripe—besides the lengths Vanya will go to prove she’s not jealous—is her eagerness to shove me out of her life now that Juniper’s coming back.
I’ve been doing a great job and she knows it. Besides, I have no problem sharing responsibility with Vanya’s manager. Other celebrities have an entourage of bodyguards, personal assistants, and publicists around them. Vanya has one guy. She can stand to double that.
Juniper can’t convince her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Which is why she’s gotten to these workaholic lengths. The woman doesn’t have an off button. Now that she’s taking care of Project Vegas, she can’t be burning herself out.
“My workload is going to slow all the way down after next week. I’ve already told Juniper I want to take a break and focus on the Vanya Scott brand.” She kicks off her heels. The sun caresses her dark brown skin and gives her a golden glow. “Can you get my sneakers for me? They’re in the backseat.”
I undo my seatbelt. We’re currently parked in front of Darrel Hasting’s luxury farmhouse. There’s a sprawling garden and tons of trees offering shade from the late evening sunshine.
“Plus, you’ve only stuck around because of the assistant position,” she continues as I stretch between the headrests to fish for her sneakers. “Now you’re free. You can go to your beach house and continue with your real life.”
I ignore the comment about my ‘real life’. “What about the doctor’s visit next week? It’s your first one.”
“I’ll send you all the information if you want. You don’t need to attend with me.”
“Try and keep me away,” I say, gripping the back of her shoes. Rather than toss them over to her, I dig my fingers beneath her thigh.
“What are you doing?”
“Arguing with you. Obviously.” I swing her body around so her back is against the door and her feet are in my lap. “We’re at the part where you try to convince me that I don’t need to attend the doctor’s visit with you.”
Vanya huffs. “It’s not logical for you to drive down every time I have a doctor’s appointment.”
I slip the sneakers onto her left foot, pulling the back of it so I can get her heel in snugly. “You’re right. That’s why I’ve decided not to drive down.”
“What do you mean?” She gives me an astonished look.
I fit the other sneaker on her. “It means I’m staying with you.” Giving both her shoes a pat of satisfaction, I pop my door open.
“Hadyn. Hadyn.” She scrambles out of the car and smacks her hand on her hips. Looking up at me with an exasperated expression, she snaps, “Says who?”
“Says my empty bank account.”
She walks until she’s right in front of me. Her expression is pure concern now. “Isn’t everything sorted out with your dad?”
“Dad hasn’t kept his end of the bargain. I’m stuck in red tape. No end in sight.”
“Are you serious?” Her eyes bug.
I nod.
That’s technically true.
Dad is dragging his feet on signing the documents. It’s his way of punishing me. But I have a solution. I knew he’d try something stupid, so I recorded his message the day I issued the challenge.
All it takes to solve this little problem is to march into his office, play back the recording and threaten to sue if he doesn’t unfreeze the account. Dad won’t have a legal leg to stand on and this can all be over in a blink. But I’m not going to do that because I need an excuse to stay close to Vanya and this is as good as I can get right now.
“Miss Vanya!” A girlish squeal is punctuated by the slap of a screen door.
Beth, Dawn’s little girl, saunters onto the porch. She’s wearing a T-shirt with the words ‘I don’t break trucks. I fix ‘em’ on the front. Her hair’s in two cute puffs and her hazel eyes sparkle with glee.
Bailey tumbles out of the house behind her. He sticks close to Beth and pushes up his circle glasses with one hand.
Dawn glides onto the porch next. “They’ve been waiting on you two to arrive. They said something about a bowling championship?”
To keep the kids from murdering each other after our bowling game, I told them that the tournament was only for practice and we’d have the real bowling match at another time. Guess they haven’t forgotten.
Belle speeds out of the house next. Her dark hair streams behind her. A grin on her adorably pudgy cheeks, she thrusts a finger skyward. “I want to play! I want to play!”
“They’re not going to leave you out, Belle-honey,” Dawn says, placing a hand on her head.
Vanya turns and gives me a dirty look. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”
We follow the kids into the living room where the other couples are hanging out. I spot Max in the corner with his suit jacket off, his tie loose and his eyes intent on the Jenga tower between him and Micheal.
“You’re here?” My best friend grunts at me, barely looking up.
“Yeah.” I saunter to Micheal and whisper loud enough that Max can hear, “I can bump into the table when it’s his turn. Get you an easy win.”
The somber kid breaks out into a small smile. “Thanks.”
Max pins me with an annoyed look. “Screw you, Mulliez.”
I smirk and follow the sound of laughter into the kitchen.
Darrel, Sunny, Alistair and Kenya are around the island counter. Darrel and Alistair are in their usual uniforms of expensive suits and ties. The women are more casual in long, flowy, pastel-colored dresses that bring out the warmth of their brown skin.
Sunny grins up at me and tucks a lock of her straight black hair behind her ear. “Hadyn, it’s nice to see you again.”
“You too.” I nod at her.
Kenya breezes by and hands me a glass of wine. “We’re celebrating,” she explains. “Belle’s Beauty just went public.”
“Congratulations.” I tip my wine at Alistair. It’s still hard to believe that the nerdy billionaire is the owner of a beauty care line. He looks like the type who’d leave a math equation on his love notes and spend hours programming a computer rather than worrying about the latest in beauty trends.
But I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover.
Alistair wraps an arm around Kenya’s waist and pulls her close. “We’re celebrating in a big way.”
“Tell them.” Kenya grins from ear to ear. She pounds Alistair’s chest with her fist. “Tell them.”
“You’re pregnant?” Sunny squeals.
“No.” Kenya laughs. “Hold your horses, girl.”
“My bad.” Sunny shrugs.
Kenya glances at each of us. “Alistair’s gotten in touch with Ryotaro Sazuki.”
The cup almost slips from my grasp. “No.”
“You know who that is?” Vanya asks, sauntering into the room with Belle on her hip. The little girl is curled into Vanya’s chest like a koala bear on a tree branch.
I imagine Vanya with our baby on her hip and the mental picture is so distracting that a long, awkward moment passes before I remember to speak.
“Uh, yeah.” I blink rapidly, not missing the knowing glances that are flying back and forth between Kenya and Sunny. “Yeah I know Ryotaro Sazuki. Don’t you?”
“I didn’t,” Alistair says, leaning against the counter and settling Kenya between his legs. “Darrel was the one who introduced me to their music.”
“Hip-hop?” Vanya asks hopefully.
“Soul?” Dawn adds.
“Classical.”
Both their faces drop.
“Must be a rich people thing,” Sunny muses, cutting into a pan of brownies and offering it to Darrel.
Darrel opens his mouth and points to it.
Sunny laughs, breaks off a piece of the brownie and feeds him.
“Darrel, you might as well explain,” Vanya says, handing Belle off to her mom.
Kenya takes the little girl. Belle kisses her cheek and cuddles in happily. Alistair drops an arm around them both.
It’s a little strange to see Belle, with her fair skin and straight hair, clinging to Kenya with her dark skin and afro. Should it feel normal? Should I not notice things like that? Will the world be noticing things like that?
I wonder if our baby will be pale like me or dark like Vanya. I wonder if it matters. I wonder when I started daydreaming about a kid and a wife and how race would play into our lives.
Darrel presses a quick kiss on Sunny’s mouth and then straightens. He’s a man of few words and even fewer expressions, so to see him getting excited is a little weird.
“If you’ve ever been to the spa, chances are you’ve heard the Sazuki family’s music. They’re a group with a highly unique sound. It’s a blend of ethereal and haunting melodies that bleed over lyrics in different languages.”
I nod enthusiastically and add, “Think of the most famous solo artists right now. The Sazuki family has sold more records than all of them. They’ve done it without touring or doing TV appearances.”
Vanya eyes the brownies and then turns away. “Wow.”
Darrel brushes his hands on the sides of his pants as if he needs to do something with all his excited energy. “The Sazuki family hasn’t put out an album in decades, but the grandson, Ryotaro Sazuki, is a classical pianist with his own accolades. Started out as a child prodigy and sold millions of dollars’ worth of albums. He’s ready to bring more of his family’s legacy into the spotlight. That’s where Belle’s Beauty comes in.”
“Sazuki is extremely picky about his projects, but he heard about the legacy of Belle’s Beauty and he’s agreed to a private piano performance. Of course it’s for a ridiculous amount of money. Enough to make me wheeze at night.” Alistair shakes his head. “But it’s a member of the Sazuki family. At our event.” He flashes a half-grin. “It’s worth every penny.”
“Why do you think he agreed?” Vanya asks.
“The guy’s ready to make his move in the West. He’s quiet, but he’s smart. He’s got that blend of businessman and artist that makes for a unique temperament,” Alistair observes.
“Is he hot?” Kenya asks, blinking innocently. When Alistair scowls down at her, she adds, “Asking for a friend.”
“The entire Sazuki clan is private.” Darrel shrugs. “No social media. No commercials. No nothing.”
“And they’ve made that much money staying off the grid?”
“Some of it is from movie soundtracks,” I say. “They worked on that huge fantasy blockbuster a couple years back and several more since. I think they won an Academy Award for that.”
“And five Grammys,” Darrel adds.
“They’re such fanboys,” Vanya teases. Then she points at me. “What does a race car driver know about classical music?”
I cross my arms over my chest in a haughty pose. “My mom had me learning violin when the bow was bigger than I was. And my brother…” I choke a little when I realize how easily Ollie’s name almost rolled off my tongue. I step back. “My brother loved him too.”
Vanya’s gaze lingers on me, but I pretend not to notice.
Thankfully, the others pick up the fallen threads of the conversation and the discussion continues.
“So no one’s seen him in person before?” Sunny confirms.
“The Belle’s Beauty gala will be the first time.” Alistair juts his chin down once.
They continue to talk about the upcoming gala while I slip outside to the back porch. The door swings open and I turn hopefully.
It’s not Vanya.
Max scowls at me. “Geez, you don’t have to look so disappointed, Mulliez.”
“Is this an emergency bro-talk?”
“Vanya sent me.”
“I don’t need you two to pounce every time I mention Ollie.”
“You so rarely mention him that we don’t have any other choice.” Max leans against the porch. It creaks as it accepts his bulk, but it holds steady. He folds his brawny arms over his chest and stares into the house through the back door.
I notice Max contemplating what he’ll say to me, and I know that this is more than an opportunity to check if I’m alright.
“So… you and Vanya,” he mutters.
I pat myself on the back for being so quick on the uptake. “What about us?”
“You’re staying married. You’re living together. You work together. And now there’s a baby.” He pins those cold blue eyes on me. “You know what you’re doing?”
“Doesn’t really feel like my doing. Since Vegas, there’s been a domino effect. One crisis after another. And it sort of worked out this way.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Max scowls at me. “With you, I never know what’s intentional. Things kind of happen and then they kind of don’t. And it’s not by your doing since you’re so go-with-the-flow. It’s hard to know where you stand in all of it.”
“What are you asking, Max?” I straighten.
He stares right into my face. “Vanya’s a friend.”
“What the hell do you think she is to me?”
“I don’t know, Hadyn. Like I said, there’s a lot to choose from.”
“You’re asking if I love her?”
“I’m asking if you even know what that means.” He points to my chest. “Not what it feels like. Not what it’s supposed to be. I’m asking if you’re capable of doing that for her. If you’re not, it might be best to make yourself clear now before you two get even more tangled.”
“She’s my wife and she’s having my baby. How much more tangled can we possibly get?”
Max gives me a don’t be stupid look.
I run a hand through my hair. I’ve been so busy running after Vanya lately that I haven’t had time to cut it. Now it’s flopping all over my head.
“Vanya is…” I lean over the deck. “She’s stunning, she’s funny, she’s kind. But she’s stubborn and argumentative and grumpy. We spend a second in each other’s company and we end up fighting with each other.”
“Butting heads doesn’t always mean you hate each other.” He smirks.
Through the open door, Dawn prances by, catches his eye and winks.
I shake my head. “It’s more than that. Vanya never slows down. She keeps everything inside until it bursts out of her. And she never admits when she’s hurting. I can’t deal with her. She drives me crazy.”
“Okay.” Max pats my back and takes a step toward the farmhouse.
“Okay?” I wheel around.
“Good talk.”
“What?” I’m so confused.
“You’re an idiot, but you’re not going to hurt her. That’s enough for me at this point.” He nods.
“Max.”
“Beth made brownies. I’m going to taste my daughter’s hand.” He waves me off and heads inside.
I move to follow him when my phone starts ringing.
“Hey, mom.”
“Hadyn,” she sobs, “Hadyn, your father…”
My heart turns to stone before it shatters completely. I’ve heard that tone of voice before. The night mom called me to tell me Ollie had died.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” I raise my voice, unable to contain my urgency. The last time we had a family emergency, I had to carry my brother’s casket out of a church filled with hundreds of mourners.
“Your father was on his way back from a business trip when a semi crashed into him at an intersection. The damage was… severe.” Her voice breaks. “He’s in surgery right now, but the doctors already told me to prepare for the worst.”
Dammit. Dammit. “He’s more stubborn that anyone I know. He has to pull through,” I whisper.
I hate the man, but I don’t want him to die. He’s still family. He’s still my father.
“I’ll be there soon, mom. Just hold on.”
I pocket the phone and charge into the farmhouse, my eyes sweeping the room for Vanya.
There she is. I find her sitting in the couch next to Dawn, locked in deep conversation. She’s smiling. Until she lifts her eyes and meets my gaze. My face must have ‘panicked and helpless’ stomped all over it because her smile vanishes quickly. She stumbles off her chair, abruptly cutting off the conversation with Dawn, and makes her way toward me.
When she reaches me, she places her hand on my chest. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
I put my hand over hers and soak in the warmth of her touch. “My dad’s in the hospital. I have to go.”
Her vibrant brown eyes hold all the understanding in the world. “Go.”
“Ask Max to drop you home. Don’t drink too much chai while I’m gone.” My head is spinning, tilting between the news, the memories of how I felt when I lost Ollie, and the urgency to make sure that nothing happens to Vanya while I’m away.
“Max, I’ll be fine. Go.” She gives my hand a squeeze.
I break away from her and rush through the front door.
Mom is a mess. Her weeping echoes off the hospital walls and drags me back to that awful night in a hallway just like this. Dad slumped on the ground, his suit rumpled and his tie undone. Mom bent over as if the weight of the world is breaking her in half. The doctors all lined up in front of the most powerful man in my world. Hands clasped. Heads bowed. Dad’s money couldn’t save him. No, dad’s money was what put him in the grave.
My hands clench at my sides, but I force myself to keep walking. To keep moving.
When I round the bend, I see mom with her arms wrapped around the doctor. The tears she’s shedding are tears of joy. “Thank you,” she bawls. “Thank you for saving my husband. I can’t lose another… I couldn’t bear losing someone else.”
“Mrs. Mulliez, the surgery was successful, but we still have to wait for Mr. Mulliez to wake up.”
I step forward and make my presence known. “Mom.”
“Hadyn.” She runs to me and gives me a hug.
“Doctor.” I nod at him. “How’s my dad?”
“He’s out of surgery now, but he hasn’t awakened yet.”
“When will he regain consciousness?” I ask.
“We’re not sure. All we can do is wait and watch for now.”
I suck in a sharp breath and try to relax, but inside I want to rage at the doctor. Is that all they can do? Wait and watch? Is that the only hope they can offer us?
“Is there a chance that he never wakes up?” I ask stiffly.
Mom looks up at me with frightened eyes.
“Yes.” The doctor delivers his answer to the floor.
Mom lets out a startled cry. I secure my arms more firmly around her in case she falls. I don’t need both my parents in the hospital right now.
“We’ll move him into a room and then you’ll be able to see him. We’ll send a nurse to fetch you when he’s settled.”
“Thank you,” mom croaks. Her eyes are teary, but it seems like she doesn’t even have the strength to cry anymore.
I lead her to one of the waiting chairs and force her to sit.
Mom stares straight ahead, trembling and weary. “I should have gone with him like he asked. I should have been there. Maybe if I’d been there…”
“Mom, mom. You can’t do that to yourself,” I say gently.
She shakes her head and pulls her lips in. “The doctors say he could have died. He was so close to bleeding out on the street.”
Her words send a lump of emotions rising in my throat. I don’t allow myself to give in to it. Mom needs someone to be strong right now. When Ollie died, dad was that person for her. Now I have to be.
I rub her back. “It’s going to take more than a little accident to keep him down,” I assure her. “All I have to do is show my face and he’ll wake up. Trust me. Dad would never give up a chance to tell me how irresponsible I am.”
Mom doesn’t laugh. Her eyes turn fierce instead. “Your father loves you, Hadyn.”
I remove my hand from her back and run it over my knee. Up and down, trying to keep myself from answering the way I really want to. This isn’t the time to rehash our family drama. Dad’s life is hanging in the balance.
“Mom—”
“I know you blame him for Ollie’s death.” She turns slightly to me so her knee is pointed at mine. “But he was torn up after what happened. There’s not a day that he hasn’t wished he could have done things differently.”
“Wishing for something doesn’t bring Ollie back,” I hiss angrily.
Mom leans forward. “Hadyn.”
I pounce to my feet. “I’ll go find a nurse and see if they’re finished with dad’s room.”
Once I turn the corner, I sink against the wall. I feel like a giant prick for butting heads with mom when she’s so distraught. Dad’s at death’s door and yet I can’t brush off the cocktail of resentment, anger, and sadness.
I swipe a hand over my face and lift my cell phone. My thumb accidentally hits the gallery and a picture pops up. It’s of Vanya at the Women’s Wellness interview. She’s sitting in the spotlight, her eyes on fire and her dark skin glistening as she speaks her mind with boldness.
Juniper instructed me to take pictures. It’s on the task list he sent to my inbox but, honestly, these pictures are more for me than for Vanya’s social media. I’ve gotten into the habit of snapping her photo while she’s working, but I haven’t posted a single one because they’re all too pretty to share with the world. What if I post them to her official account and some pervert starts collecting her photos in his personal gallery?
Like you are?
I ignore that thought and focus on Vanya’s face. I don’t know why, but just looking at her soothes the restlessness inside.
“Mr. Mulliez?” A nurse passes by and sees me leaning against the wall.
I straighten and face her. “Is my dad ready?”
“You can see him now.”
I stride back to the waiting room.
Mom is hunched over in her chair, staring at the floor with hollow eyes. Gently, I hold both her shoulders and lift her up. “They’re saying we can see him now.”
Her knees buckle when she tries to walk. I loop my arm around her waist and keep her upright. Together, we move to the VIP room where dad is.
Mom pushes the door open, but she stops when I release my hold on her. Turning back, she looks at me. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“N-not yet.” My heart runs and hides in some hollow place behind my ribs. I feel the echo of my pulse in my head. “I can’t…”
Mom glances down in disappointment. “Okay, son.” She pats my arm and waddles in on her own.
I step forward when the door closes in my face, wishing I could get over myself and be there for my mom.
Through the glass pane in the door, I see mom stop at dad’s side. She sinks into the chair pulled close to his bed, holds his hand and brings it lovingly to her face.
The windows are drawn, but the light seeping in is so dim I can tell that night has fallen. My father is lying flat on a hospital bed. He’s shrouded in a hospital gown that’s too big for him. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe he’s always looked so frail and I didn’t notice. Because in my mind, dad was—is—the Big Bad Wolf who blew all the houses down, a monster that didn’t stop devouring.
Except he doesn’t look strong enough to even blow a whistle right now.
Machines beep around him. A heart monitor glows.
He looks like death warmed over. Still. Vulnerable.
I’ve never seen him so weak.
I whirl away from the door and press my back to the wall. Squeezing my eyes shut, I stand guard outside dad’s room until the door opens.
Mom steps out, her eyes red-rimmed.
I zip to attention. “Mom.”
“The nurses asked me to step out while they check on him.” Her voice is hoarse. Defeated. “It’s a bad sign if he doesn’t wake up in the next forty-eight hours.”
I blink rapidly to stop the tears from welling up. There are no words I can offer her. Not when I’m so torn up myself.
Mom doesn’t look at me. “I suggest you go home now, son. Get some rest. There’s nothing you can do here.”
I shake my head. “You’re the one who should go home and rest—”
“I’m not leaving him!” Mom shrieks. Her eyes bulge out of her face. “I’m not leaving my husband.”
“Okay. Okay.” I swallow hard. It feels like I’m making her pain worse by being here. By standing outside the door rather than walking in and being the good son. Being like Ollie.
Silent tears leak down mom’s face.
I hug her until the nurse walks out.
“Any changes?” I ask desperately.
She shakes her head. “We’ll keep observing him. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands.”
Mom steps out of my embrace and pats my arm. “Goodnight, Hadyn.”
I watch her walk inside. Watch the door close in front of my face. Watch my father breathe through tubes. And the pain inside climbs to such dizzying heights that I can’t feel my legs.
Somehow, I stumble into the waiting room and sink into a chair. I feel like a zombie. Like time is just passing me by but it’s not touching me.
It’s late. The clock on the wall blares three a.m. when I feel a presence beside me. The hand on my shoulder is soft. Warm. The scent of perfume fills the air, covering the stench of death and pain and loneliness.
“I told you to stay home,” I mumble hoarsely. I don’t need to look to my left to confirm Vanya is here.
“When have I ever listened to you?” she answers, her voice softer than her touch.
I clench my jaw to hide my turmoil from her. I’ve never let her—let anyone—see this side of me. The anger. The frustration. The fear. I’m not the guy who wrestles with heavy emotions. I’m the life of the party. Find the loudest concentration of laughter and revelry in the room and that’s where I’ll be.
I don’t sulk.
I don’t stew.
I don’t let people see me break.
She places a cup in my hands.
I stare at it. “You brought me chai?”
“That’s coffee.” She points at it. “You wanted a latte?”
“You shouldn’t be here, Van,” I growl out the words. I don’t know if I’m angry that she’s here so late at night or if I’m ashamed that she’s seeing me at my absolute worst.
Maybe a little of both?
“Hadyn, we’ve established that you ordering me to do things is a waste of time. So how about we pretend you’ve already given your angry lecture and move on to the next part?”
“What next part?”
“The part where I comfort you.” Vanya takes the coffee out of my hands, sets it on the ground and then winds her hands around me. Her head is a comforting weight on my shoulder. “Is he going to be okay?”
My heart is breaking into tiny little pieces and I have no control over it. No control over my body as it trembles. No control over the tears that refuse to stay hidden. No control over the way my voice breaks.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. I can’t believe that ragged sound came out of me. I can’t believe I’m losing it like this.
“You’re angry,” Vanya says. “It’s coming off you in waves.”
“Because he shouldn’t be in that bed. He should be up, living every day of his life, paying for what he did to Ollie. He should…” I suck my words back in because if I utter another syllable, a tear is going to pop out and then I’ll really have hit rock bottom.
Vanya turns me around and cups my face between her soft palms. Her hands smell like cocoa butter, fancy perfume and home.
“Let it out, Hadyn. You’ve been holding it in for this long and it’s eating you up inside.”
It’s eerily quiet in the waiting room. No one’s walking past. The patients are all asleep. The doctors are tucked away in their offices.
We’re alone, but I feel exposed. Like all my insides have been dragged out and put on display.
Vanya slips her hands around me again. She doesn’t push me. She doesn’t say anything and yet it’s comforting that she’s holding me, breathing with me. That she’s here.
Damn, I didn’t know I needed her so badly until she slipped into my arms like the last piece of a puzzle.
“Your head is heavy,” I mutter after a while, bumping her head with my shoulder. “What’s your skull made of? Rocks?”
She whips up and glares at me. “You’re a lot more sympathetic when you’re quiet.”
I laugh and stroke my hand up and down her back until her scowl melts into a reluctant grin.
“Feel better?” she asks.
“Now that you’re here? Yeah.” I interlace our fingers.
“And?”
“And what?”
She arches an eyebrow and tilts her head.
“Someone’s pushy,” I mutter.
“You really are more likable when you shut up,” she says.
I smile wearily and run my thumb over her chin. I’ve never had the courage to open that door. Never had the strength to share the burden.
“If I shut up, you won’t hear about what happened with Ollie,” I whisper.
Vanya’s hold tightens on me. She blinks in surprise. “You ready to talk?”
No, not even close.
But it’s Vanya and for her, I’ll try.
