She was lying, which I loved. She’d just wanted me to have it. It’s my favorite shirt now.
“You’re looking happy,” my father muses and I realize I’m grinning.
I quickly turn my mouth down and clear my throat. “Life is pretty good out here.”
He raises a discerning brow. “Are you sure?” He didn’t even need to ask that, I know what that damn eyebrow arch means.
I nod and busy myself with my coffee, black and unadulterated. “Aye.”
“And you have a girlfriend now?”
“Aye.”
“Nadia?”
“Nadine.”
“I knew a girl named Nadia once,” he said, getting this dreamy look in his eyes. I’ve never seen my father look remotely dreamy before. It’s mildly disturbing.
“Yeah. Nadia,” I say, not even bothering to correct him.
“Do you love her?” he asks, his expression turning serious.
“Of course I love her,” I tell him as my throat feels like it’s closing up. I must have burned it with the coffee. The truth is, I’ve never told Nadine that I love her because I’m not sure that I do. “I’ve been with her six months now.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
I give my dad a look, not sure where he is going with this. Since when has he ever grilled me about my love life? If anyone needs grilling, it’s Bram.
“Well, anyway, I’m happy,” I assure him.
“How come she isn’t here now?”
I absently tug at my ear. “I just…it didn’t seem right.”
“I see,” he says and I think he’s reading way too much into it. Then he shakes his head. “Where are my manners, I haven’t even wished you a happy birthday yet. Happy birthday,” he says and pulls out an envelope from his jacket. He slides it across the table. “This is from your mother and me.”
Birthday presents shouldn’t fill me with suspicion but I have a bad feeling about this. I stare down at it, can see the shape of something inside. I don’t think it’s money, though it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve given me that.
“Go on,” he says, nudging it forward with a flick of his wrist, his cufflinks catching the light. “It won’t bite you. You only turn thirty once, you know.”
Thank god, I think to myself. I take the envelope and open it gingerly.
A key falls out and onto the table.
I raise a brow at my father. “What’s this?”
“Your new flat,” he says.
I’m not easily confused but this time my father has thrown me for a real loop. I’m starting to wonder if he’s all there.
“I don’t get it.”
He chuckles and takes an elegant sip of his tea, which he’s overloaded with milk and sugar. “It’s your birthday present. Your mother and I decided to make some investments. One of those investments is a flat, for you. It’s in the Upper West Side, on Broadway, near the Beacon Theater. You can move in next month.”
I can feel my confusion slowly morph into a simmering kind of rage. “I’m sorry, but…I live here. Right? I have a place here.”
He stares at me for a moment. “You can always sell or rent it out, it’s not permanent.” His words are clipped.
“Yeah, but I am permanent,” I tell him. “This is where my job is. Do you know how hard I fought to get that job? Do you think it’s just easy to get a job flying helicopters?”
“There are more than enough places like that in Manhattan,” he says so smoothly, so patronizingly, that I’m seconds away from flipping over the table and storming out of here. “You’d have no problem securing another – better – job. I’d make sure of that.” He pauses to sip his tea and smacks his lips together. “And if that was no longer your calling, it would be for the best. There is a whole world out there, just waiting for the son of Stewart McGregor.”
My jaw is clamped together and it takes an effort to speak. “I am sure Bram will do you proud then.”
“Oh come on, Linden,” he says suddenly, his eyes flashing and that viper temper of his sneaking out, “you know as well as I do that Bram is useless. You’re the son we have a chance with, we have hope with.”
“Hope for what?”
“To be our son.”
My head jerks back in confusion. “I am your son.”
“But it doesn’t feel like it, does it? Now, eat your food, it’s getting cold.”
I don’t feel like eating. I just want to go a million miles away. I thought I had accomplished that by moving here but I guess I was wrong.
“Now before you start getting all upset,” he says, quietly now. “Just know how lucky you are. We helped you out with your place here while you were training. In fact, we have helped you with everything until recently. You’ve never said how much you’ve appreciated it, but I’m assured you did. And now, now this is helping you too. A large, beautiful flat in Manhattan, just for you. How many young men can say they have that? Only the privileged few and you are a part of that.”