Chapter thirteen
Ben
September 2022
“Have you seen Dad’s business partner?” Ollie says as Amy slides a bowl of carrots across the dinner table. “She’s hot.”
I pause cutting my meat, my knife poised, ready to slice. Not only has my son noticed that my business partner is attractive, but every time the thought crosses my mind, guilt stabs deep in my chest. I have no right to think of her that way.
My home returned to chaos the minute my sons arrived back a week ago. And it looks like today will be no different. Liam scowls at his brother. Then picks up a roast potato, launching it through the air. It hits Ollie square between the eyes. My sister-in-law chuckles.
I twist my ring. It’s feeling heavier these days, since my thoughts about Antonia changed from professional admiration to personal appreciation.
Last week, I took it off to shower. The skin beneath it was pale. It lay in the little dish Bex left in the bathroom so she could do the same and not risk losing hers. I’d dressed, then realized I hadn’t replaced it. My finger was bare. A careless miss.
I considered leaving the house without it, but that felt like a step too far. But part of me wanted to walk outside without the claim of being Bex’s husband.
“Do you not think so, Dad?” Ollie continues, completely oblivious to the silence surrounding him. If there’s one of my children I can rely on to speak out of turn, it’s him. He calls things as he sees them—it’s a positive and negative quality in equal measure.
“We don’t need to hear about your crushes on old women,” Liam snaps, pushing his meal around his plate, eyes locked on his brother. Jaw tight. Ollie ignores him.
I’m used to this tit for tat bickering between them, but today, Ollie’s on shaky ground. And the subject he’s chosen is uncomfortable for more than one of us at the table.
“Ollie, I’d rather you didn’t objectify my business partner,” I say, thinking that will derail the conversation. Or even make him pause to consider what the word objectify means. It doesn’t.
“It’s a simple question, Dad. Do you think she’s attractive?”
I’m boxed in with no way out. My eyes plead with Amy to save me from this questioning, but she’s suddenly fascinated by her gravy. Her fork draws circles in the sauce. Whatever way I answer this, someone isn’t going to be happy, or I’ll be called out for being a liar. I go with the truth.
“Antonia’s attractive, yes.” Liam’s gaze lands on me, and everything suddenly feels warmer. Shame builds in my throat, blocking the words. I push them out. “But it wouldn’t be appropriate, and I’m not looking.”
Amy tuts, the air hissing between her teeth. I lay my hands on the table, my wedding ring glinting under the light. A safety net I don’t know how to take off. Last week proved that.
No one speaks for a few minutes. Ollie stuffs a spoonful of mashed potato into his mouth, cheeks bright after being proved correct. Thankfully, the conversation passes. Liam stays quiet for the rest of the meal.
But it makes me consider whether the thoughts I’ve been having recently are more obvious than I hoped. Antonia Cole is turning into one of the first things I think of in the day when I open my eyes. That’s a change. But one I’ve no interest in investigating the cause of. Or that’s what I’m telling myself anyway. I’m afraid the guilt would eat me alive.
Later, the boys are cemented in front of the XBox, playing whatever soccer game they managed to talk me into purchasing when they arrived home last week. It’d been a relief to pick them both up from the airport—in one piece and still smiling. They’ve had the most incredible experience.
Each telephone call we had while they were away gave me a little insight into the people they’ve grown into. Ollie, always the joker, but fiercely protective of his younger brother. Liam, methodical and dependable, already talking about funding grants for studying at a university where he can expand his soccer career.
Every call ended with me feeling prouder than when it started.
But as soon as we were back through our front door, their sneakers were dumped, and the toilet seat was left up. Their rooms, which have sat perfectly clean and tidy all summer, exploded with dirty plates and underwear. I’m almost at the point of opening their doors to spray air freshener before entering.
It’s strangely comforting. And a much needed distraction from what my summer turned out to be. Chaotic, exciting, and nothing I ever expected.
Since Opengate agreed to funding for the retreat, it’s like a boost button has been pushed. Sure, I was moving fast before, but somewhere between the architect and funding meetings, everything slotted into place. The land grant was approved. Planning passed. And we break ground next week.
I’d hit a snag on planning. The local office didn’t agree with a roof elevation in part of the design. One call to Antonia, and suddenly, we were all systems go. When I said I’d expected it to take months to have all the paperwork in order, she smiled. It lightened her from the hard-nosed CEO to someone more human, normal even. It’d been nice to see. I saw the girl beneath the corporate woman for a second. She was endearing. Mesmerizing even.
Antonia’s the most professional person I’ve ever met. Constantly straightening her shoulders or diverting discussion back to the topic at hand. There’s never a personal note to anything; it’s all timescales, spreadsheets, and goal achievement. I wonder if she ever relaxes.
Her pink Wellington boots on site had been a surprise. Fun, almost. I’ve never seen her with her hair loose. I’m not even sure what that would look like. It’s always perfectly pulled back into a ponytail, secured in place with a simple black band.
There’s so much about her I notice day to day that I shouldn’t. And do anyway. Sometimes it’s hard to drag my eyes away. That makes the guilt worse.
“Mostly, it’s just having the correct phone number,” she said. “And the families we want to help don’t have months to wait. I want us to be open by summer.”