I also have the volume up so loud to keep myself awake. I didn’t sleep on the plane, naturally, even after a late night. I really should see my doctor about a prescription for those magical pills Sylvie gave me.
I got in the car as soon as I got home from the airport to get over to my parents’ place. My parents have lived in the same house since before I came along. My mom wanted a farmhouse, and my dad provided.
I have the best memories of growing up here. We always had dogs and horses running around, and today that’s no different. I drive my sweet black Mercedes up the long, cobblestone driveway. My brother and I would play basketball for hours and hours in this very driveway when we were kids, and it was always a challenge when the ball would hit in between the cobblestones and take a rough bounce. The hoop is down now, but the memories remain.
My mom greets me at the door with a hug before I even ring the bell. “Hi baby boy,” she murmurs.
“Hi Mom,” I say, and she pulls out of our hug and smacks me lightly on the arm.
I furrow my eyebrows and rub at the spot of the offense. “Ouch! What was that for?”
“When was the last time you visited your parents?” she asks, her tone accusatory as she points her finger at me.
I grin. “I see Dad every day.”
“You’re such a brat. You haven’t been to the house in months.”
“And yelling at me is a great way to get me to come back.”
She laughs and leans in for another hug. “So what’s the special occasion?” she asks.
I shrug. “I just wanted Mom’s home cooking.”
She narrows her eyes at me as we walk from the entryway toward the kitchen. “Liar.”
“I need to talk to you guys about some things.”
“You need anything to drink?”
“Whatever whisky Dad’s hiding on the top shelf of the pantry would be great.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I’m not giving you whisky when you have an hour drive back into the city.”
“I’ll call Geoffrey. He’ll get me home.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t raise you like that.”
I chuckle. “No, but Dad did.”
“Dad did what?” I hear his voice, and a slice of anxiety shoots through my abdomen.
“He’s saying you taught him to day drink and rely on a chauffeur to get him home,” my mom says.
My dad grins at me and nods with approval. “I taught him well.”
We all laugh, then my mom grabs a cup, heads over to the fridge to fill it, and then walks back and hands me a glass of milk.
“Are you seriously still shoving milk at me? I thought that ended when I turned twenty-five.”
“It’s still good for your bones. Drink up. If you’re really well-behaved, I’ll give you one little sip of Dad’s whisky.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Carson, but what did you want to talk about?” my dad asks.
“Right down to it, then?”
My dad shrugs. “You know I prefer to get down to business to get it out of the way.”
I nod. He’s always been like that, so focused—just like Carter. Carter would be so much better suited to be CEO, but I know he doesn’t want it either.
“Let’s sit,” I suggest. I take my glass of milk with me, feeling like a child as I pull out a chair at the large, round table.
“Are you boys ready to eat?” my mom asks.
My mouth waters for her homemade broccoli cheddar soup, but I need to say my piece before I lose my nerve.
“Dad’s right. Let’s talk and then eat.” She nods and moves to leave the room. “Mom, you should be here, too.”
“Is everything okay?” she asks, concern all over her face. They both sit.
“Everything is okay,” I say, nodding. “It might be more okay than it’s ever been, actually.”
“Oh my God, he’s met a girl!” She says it to my dad, and then she turns to me with excitement. “You met a girl, didn’t you?”
“That’s part of it, yes.”
She claps her hands together, and while I appreciate her excitement, I need to get this off my chest. My hands tremble with nerves and my stomach twists. I think I might be sick.
“Let him talk, Karoline,” my dad says gently to her, and then they both turn toward me.
I take a sip of milk and then take a deep breath before launching into the speech I practiced in my head for the duration of my flight back from San Diego this morning. “My entire life, you’ve both had certain expectations of me—good grades, make the team, behave myself, go to college. I’ve always strived to impress you, to leap over the expectations you’ve had of me and do everything I could to make you proud of me. Sometimes it was at the expense of things I really wanted. The Metallica concert at Madison Square Garden my senior year of high school comes to mind. I wanted to go more than anything I’d ever wanted before that, but it was the night before final exams, and even though I’d spent the entire semester prepping to be sure I’d do well on them, I still stayed home because I knew that was what you wanted. You told me it was up to me to decide, and I decided I had to do what I thought you wanted me to do. Carter got to go since he was a junior and his finals were the next week, and I sat at home listening to my Metallica CD wishing I was there.”
“You never told us that,” my mom whispers.
I shrug. “I know, but I need to set the scene with examples of giving up the things I want in order to impress you.”
“Why?” my dad asks.
“Because there’s something else that you’ve expected of me my entire life, and it’s not something I’ve ever wanted.”
“What is it?” my mom asks.
I clear my throat and then allow the words to rush out of me. “I don’t want to be CEO of King.”
“What?” my dad asks, shock evident in his dark eyes. My mom’s hand goes to her chest in surprise.
They both stare at me, and I draw in a fortifying breath. The nausea in my stomach starts to dissipate now that I’ve said the words, but I’m still a little apprehensive about how they’re going to react. They’re both just shocked at the moment.
They haven’t said anything, so I plow ahead. “It’s an honor that you trust me with that position, but I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted it. I like my job as executive vice president, and I know you’re retiring soon, but I don’t want you to hand off the reins to me.”
“You don’t?” my dad asks.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t. I like the freedom of EVP. I don’t want to be tied to New York forever.”
That last part slipped out before I had the chance to really think it over, but it’s true. If I’m CEO, I’m glued to living in New York. It’s the headquarters of our business, and if I’m running the entire company, I need to be there.
“You don’t?” my mom asks, parroting my dad’s last words.
I shake my head again, this time with more conviction. This honest talk with my parents is leading me to some revelations I hadn’t expected. They both stare at me with some combination of confusion and utter shock.
“You know what I want? I want in on Carter and Axel’s bar. I want to pour beer for someone else. I want the night off once in a while. I want to be near Carter and Axel and their families. I want to sit on the beach and breathe in the ocean. I want a back yard instead of an expensive apartment in Midtown. I want dogs like we had growing up but I don’t want to drive over an hour out of the city to have a place for them to run.”
My words tumble out of me. These are the thoughts that’ve been in my head but I’ve blocked. These are my true passions, the things I really want out of life, and I want all of them with Sylvie.
“And most of all, I want to be the executive you move to San Diego to oversee the Baker acquisition.”
“What does Baker have to do with anything?” my dad asks.
“The girl Mom asked about before is Sylvie Baker—Rob Baker’s daughter, the VPO of Baker Media.”
My dad looks down at the table runner and picks at a loose string. “And you want to move to San Diego to be her boss?”
I shake my head. “No, I want to move to San Diego to be her husband.”
My mom gasps. “Husband? Are you serious right now?”
“Someday, well down the line, and only if she wants that, too. It’s new. We’re not even technically together yet. She got engaged to this lawyer last night. It’s a long story.”
They both stare at me like I have two heads, and it actually does sound pretty ridiculous to say it out loud.
“I thought you were going to be my forever bachelor son,” my mom says.
I shrug. “When you know, you just know. You know?”
They glance at each other, and my mom reaches over to take my dad’s hand in hers.
“Yeah. We know,” my dad says. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? I could’ve been searching for someone, training them the way I’ve trained you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disappoint you, and up until I met Sylvie, I was planning on just sucking it up and doing it. It’s a great position, and it’s a privilege that you want me to do it. I would’ve taken it on and given it everything I have.”
My dad’s eyebrows furrow. “You were going to take a position you didn’t want just so you wouldn’t disappoint us?”
I shrug. “It sounds dumb when you say it like that, but that pretty much sums it up. And don’t forget the fact that I didn’t really want to have this conversation. You know how much I hate confrontation.”
“You were going to risk being unhappy in your work for the rest of your life because you didn’t want to confront me? You do realize how much confrontation is involved on a daily basis in the position of CEO, don’t you?”
“That’s another reason why I never really wanted to do it.”
He glances at my mom. “I think we did something right.”
“I was just thinking we must’ve done something wrong.”
My dad chuckles. “We raised this boy into a man with integrity. With a kind heart. With a good head on his shoulders.”
“Don’t forget handsome,” my mom says.
I roll my eyes. “So what now? Who will be CEO when you retire?”
My dad shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.” He glances at my mom. “We haven’t discussed this, but I don’t actually think I’m ready to retire any time soon anyway.”
It’s my mom’s turn to roll her eyes. “Of course you’re not.” She points her finger at him. “But you’re taking time off and you’re taking me somewhere warm—somewhere with a beach.” He starts to interrupt her, but she ignores him. “And not in the United States.”
He looks down at the table and nods. “Yes ma’am.”
I laugh. We all know who the real CEO of King is…at least this King household.