I sat in my new office building, gazing out over my view of Los Angeles. Excitement bubbled under my skin as a grin crossed my cheeks. I was ready to get things going with my business. I was ready to take on the world as a trial lawyer. That may not have sounded exciting to some, but it did to me.

If there was anything I discovered in my years of law school, internships, and unpaid gigs, it was that I was good at two things: bringing criminals to justice and figuring out when someone was lying. Hiding something, withholding information, or outright lying had become easy for me to spot. My track record spoke for itself, and I hoped with the reputation I had already garnered in the community that my new business in Los Angeles would flourish even though I was just twenty-seven years old.

The office was empty now, but it wasn’t going to be by the end of the week. I’d tapped into some resources and gotten some nice deals on office furniture to fill up the place. I had the top four floors of the office building I was in, but my first financial goal was to buy out the building altogether. My business plan was already in motion, and by the time I was thirty, this entire space would be mine.

I looked at my watch before I gathered up my things. I had plans to meet my parents for dinner. On me, of course. I hadn’t seen them in a while. Four years to be exact. Law school had been rough enough, but making connections and drawing in residual income wherever I could had taken most of the time I would’ve spent coming home to see them. Which meant we stayed afloat as a family via video conferencing and traditional phone calls, sometimes the occasional email.

Walking into Republique, I drew in the familiar scent. All the restaurants I’d always gawked at as a teenager were now mine for the taking. I immediately saw my parents in the corner and they waved at me, standing to greet me as I walked toward them.

My mother was already stumbling in her heels.

“Son, it’s been a very long time,” my father said.

I embraced him and clapped his back before I moved to hug my mother.

“You look so grown up,” she said.

Her words were slurred, and I tried to ignore them. She hugged me a little longer than I figured she would, and I felt her lean into me, her body growing heavy. She was falling asleep on her damn feet as the alcohol coursed through her veins. I looked up at my father and he held up his hand, wiggled his five fucking fingers as I clenched my jaw.

Why the hell my father didn’t help her get her drinking under control was beyond me.

“So, Dad, how goes the accounting firm? Still doing your own thing out of the house?” I asked.

“You were always adamant about not talking about work. Now that we’re face to face for the first time in years, work is your first question?” he asked.

“I have an announcement, but I don’t want to be selfish,” I said.

“Well, what’s the announcement?”

“Could I get another drink?” my mother asked.

“I think you’ve had plenty, Mom.”

“A celebratory one, for your announcement,” she said.

The grin on her face was sloppy at best, and I looked at my father to step in. Instead, he sat there like a damn bump on a log, as if my mother’s disposition was just fine.

I was quickly being reminded of why I had left in the first place.

“To answer your question, Son, the accounting firm is going just fine. I’m still working from home, and it’s keeping us afloat.”

“Afloat? Has something happened?” I asked.

“Just your father’s terrible investments,” Mom said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ve got it under control,” he said.

“If someone’s taken advantage of my parents, I want to know about it,” I said.

“Really, it’s fine. The stock market is taking a nosedive right now and some of the riskier companies I took chances on aren’t seeing the kind of rebound I had hoped. No one has gotten swindled out of anything,” he said.

“If you want me to take a look at things—”

“I’m an accountant, Tyler. I know numbers. I’ve rebalanced our portfolio and we’re going to be fine. Now, I want to hear about this announcement of yours,” he said.

“Oh! Red wine. This is a nice vintage as well,” my mother said.

I watched her tip the wine glass all the way up before I grabbed the stem gently and pulled it away from her.

“Slow down,” I said.

“We’re celebrating,” she said.

“For all you know, my announcement is that I’m dying.”

“Wait, are you sick?” my father asked.

“Oh my gosh, Tyler. What’s happened?” my mother asked.

“I’m not sick. But if you want my announcement, no more drinking,” I said.

“That was a terrible thing to do, scaring us like that,” my mother said.

I shot my father a look as her cheek fell to my shoulder.

“I’ve opened up an office here to start my own business,” I said.

“Wait, so you’re moving back?” my father asked.

“I am.”

“Oh, I’m so happy to have my son back,” my mother said.

She was crying her makeup off onto my shoulder as the smell of booze wafted from her lips to my nose. I signaled the waiter over so we could get some food ordered, and I made sure to put in a starchy appetizer order to help with Mom’s appetite for alcohol.

Dinner was tense, but it was nice to catch up with them. I wasn’t happy that my mother’s drinking was apparently still an issue. Nor was I happy about my father’s apathy toward it. Still, it was nice to sit and eat with them—no matter how much their relationship struck me as unhealthy.

After dinner, I helped my mother to the car and practically poured her into the back seat. I shot my father one last look before he ducked behind the wheel, and I thought I saw something akin to shame wash over his face. Good. He needed to be ashamed. Mom needed help and he was her primary enabler.

Maybe now that I was back in town I could help her myself.

My phone buzzed against my hip as I watched them pull away. My eyes followed them all the way to the road before I pulled it from my pocket. I grinned down at the name as I picked up the phone, ready to talk with my best friend.

“Hey hey, Brandon.”

“Please tell me you’re done ‘settling in.’ You’ve been settling in for a fucking week already.”

“I’m done settling in,” I said.

“Good, because the dynamic duo is back. You up for a drink or two?”

“After the dinner I just had with my parents? God yes.”

“Oh, shit. You had dinner with them? How’s your mom?”

“Worse off than she was when I left.”

“Oh, fuck. Okay then. Drinks, right now. Our usual spot?”

“We don’t have a usual spot.”

“Precisely why we need to make one. Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“What about the Varnish?”

“Speakeasy atmosphere, huh? I like it. They always have soft live music going on. See you in fifteen?”

“See you there.”

I hopped into my car and punched it into my GPS. I’d never been there, but anyone who was from L.A. had heard of Varnish at one time or another. It was one of the most expensive bars in town, complete with a strict dress code. It tailored itself to the professional environment, and I liked that. Bars with dance floors, strobe lights, and rooftops parties didn’t interest me. Never had. Mostly because I didn’t enjoy that kind of atmosphere, and mostly because the women there were always looking for men like myself in tailored suits, assuming we had money.

But there was only one woman on my mind.

Brandon wrapped his arms around me the second he saw me. I smiled and clapped his back, enjoying being back in his presence. I’d missed the hell out of him. The memories we had created in high school and the friendship we had maintained over the years had kept me afloat during the hardest times at law school.

Well, those and the memories of Ana.

“I’m so glad you’re back. I know I came to see you a few times in Massachusetts, but I can’t say I enjoyed the women out that way. The women in California are more our speed, and I can’t wait to be your wingman.”

“Wingman?” I asked.

“Yeah! You went to school on the other side of the world and I had to survive eight entire years in L.A. without my wingman. Aspiring singers and actresses and models all going to bed cold and lonely at night because we weren’t there to hold them close. Think of the disservice we’ve done them.”

“You think they went to bed alone because we weren't there?” I asked, grinning.

“Only the best look for the best, and you can't tell me we’re not the best.”

I chuckled and shook my head before we placed our drink orders. I knew Brandon was excited to have me back for a variety of reasons, but the idea of scoring women together didn’t feel right. I wasn’t feeling that type of lifestyle for myself. I never had. I didn’t enjoy picking up random girls. I didn't enjoy making out with a woman whose last name I didn’t know. I wanted that personal connection with someone. I wanted the kisses and the lingering glances and the caresses to mean something.

They had only ever met something with one person—one woman I was determined to see now that I was back in Los Angeles.

I just hoped she felt the same way about me after nine years of being gone.