Chapter 48

“Fuck me, I couldn’t eat another fucking thing,” Mason says with a loud groan, earning him a clip on the ear from our father, who he obviously hadn’t realized had walked back into the kitchen.

“No cursing at my table.” Dad takes a seat and promptly lights up a cigar.

“You’re supposed to have given those up,” Elijah reminds him.

Dad shrugs. “What’s the point of living if you can’t indulge in life’s simplest pleasures, son? I have two vices, cigars and whisky, and I’m not about to give up either of them.”

“Don’t forget the women, Pop.” Mason chuckles and receives a withering glare to go along with his sore ear.

Our dad sighs wearily, but he doesn’t dwell on it any longer. Of all of us James boys, Mason is the one who can push him the most before he snaps.

“You had a heart attack, Dad. Those things aren’t good for you,” Elijah persists, but our father dismisses him with a wave.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. I have four of my boys here with me, and life is good. Can you at least let me enjoy my cigar in peace?”

I shoot my older brother a look, warning him not to press any further. Dalton James has been smoking cigars for over fifty years. A heart attack isn’t going to stop him.

With a reluctant nod at me, Elijah turns his attention to our younger brother. “Drake, how are things in Chicago?”

Drake shrugs. “Same old, same old.”

“You should come home,” Dad says in a gruff tone. “You were only supposed to be out there for a year or two. Six years later and you’re still there. Surely the office can run without you now?”

Drake bristles. “I like it there, Dad.”

“You should be home with your family,” Dad insists, blowing out a stream of cigar smoke.

I throw Drake a conspiratorial wink, and he rolls his eyes in response. It’s good to be here with the four of them. My penthouse apartment has been feeling way too big and empty these past few weeks, which is fucked up given that I lived there alone for eleven years before Melanie Edison walked into my life.

“How are things with the Edison girl?” It’s like my father can read my mind.

I seethe at the mention of her. “Her name is Melanie, as you well know, and things are exactly the same, Dad. She’s a lying, soul-sucking bitch who will become my ex-wife as soon as possible.”

“You’ve drawn up the divorce papers?” Drake asks.

“No. Not yet,” I admit. I should have had them drafted the day I found out the truth about her, but I’ve been distracted. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.

My father’s eyes narrow at me from across the table. “What’s stopping you, son?”

I glare at him. “I’ve been busy. It’s only been a couple of weeks. I’ll handle it.”

“I can handle it for you if you’d like?” Drake suggests.

I swallow the lump in my throat and shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll do it myself.” Having those papers drafted will make everything seem so final, and I don’t think I’m ready for that quite yet.

“If you’re sure.” Drake eyes me with concern.

“I’ll take care of it,” I insist.

Our father snorts a laugh. What the hell is his problem? He’s the reason I’m even in this mess. His need for a legacy fucked up my entire life. I was fine before, and now I’m walking around in some sort of fucking daze. He eyes me suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with the girl?”

I grind my teeth, and the muscles in my jaw tighten. We all fucking fell in love with her, but none of us are going to admit it. “No. I did not fall in love with her. I told you, I’ve been fucking busy.”

“So get the papers drawn up and get this shitshow over with,” Dad says, like it’s that easy, which is bullshit. I know he’s as hurt by her betrayal as I am.

“Why, Dad? So you can set me up with the next gold digger?”

The vein in his temple twitches, his face turning a deep shade of pink. I can feel my brothers’ eyes on me, silently urging me to stop pushing him. Of all of us, I seem to be the one who’s able to ignite his short fuse with the least amount of effort.

“Has anyone heard from Maddox lately?” Drake asks, swiftly changing the subject. Not that our baby brother is an easier topic for our father to handle, but at least it takes the heat off me, and for that I offer Drake an appreciative nod.

Elijah takes a sip of his Scotch. “I believe he’s currently headed to Tuscany. At least that was his plan when I spoke with him a couple of days ago.”

“He should also be at home where he belongs,” our father grumbles.

“Or maybe he should be out there enjoying his life while he’s still young enough to do so,” I snap.

That wins me yet another fierce glare before he shoves his chair back. “Elijah. Come take a walk with me. You can fill me in on the new Denver deal.”

Elijah rolls his eyes at me but does as our father bids, and the two of them walk out of the kitchen, leaving Drake, Mason, and me alone.

“Do you actually want to serve her with divorce papers?” Mason asks.

I run my tongue over my bottom lip and stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t fucking know.”

Drake leans forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. “So there’s a chance that you don’t?”

“I guess that’s what I don’t know means.”

Mason runs hand over his beard while Drake sits back in his chair and blinks at me. “Wow, bro,” Drake says. “I assumed that after what she did, you wouldn’t even entertain the idea of reconciliation.”

I scowl at him. “Who said anything about reconciliation, asshole?”

He scowls right back. “So you don’t want to divorce her, but you don’t want to reconcile either? You’re just going to leave yourself in some kind of limbo, not to mention her?”

I snarl. “You think she deserves any better than that?”

“No, I think that you do. Why torture yourself any further? If it’s over, end it.”

My pulse quickens, and anger fizzes in my veins. “Maybe it’s not that fucking easy, Drake. Don’t you think I want this to be over? Don’t you think I wish every single fucking day that I didn’t know what it was like to feel loved by her, even if it was all an act. If I could forget how good she felt in my arms, how her smile could make even the shittiest day brighter, how fucking good she tasted, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

Drake opens his mouth to speak, but Mason puts a hand on our brother’s arm, obviously making him think twice about whatever it was he was about to say.

“Whatever you decide to do, Nathan, we’re here for you,” Mason assures me, giving Drake a pointed look.

“We always have your back, bro,” Drake adds.

A heavy sigh rushes out of me. “I know.” I also know what I need to do next. Dragging this thing out is only hurting both of us, and as much as I want to hate Mel for what she did, I can’t seem to find it in me. I make myself a silent promise that I’ll fix it tomorrow.

But for tonight, I just want to sit here with my brothers and pretend that life is exactly like it used to be.

Tomorrow is a new year. A new start.