Page 11 of Reckless
I sat through the first course with Roman on one side of the table, Charlie three seats down, and my father at the head like a calm emperor presiding over a small, loud kingdom.The windows were open enough to let in the smell of the Atlantic.Salt.Summer.Wet stone.
The compound looked especially good at dusk.
Everything did here.
My parents had somehow managed to make a sprawling beachfront palace feel like home instead of performance.Persian rugs softened every room.Light poured in everywhere.Ancient-looking details and family photographs existed side by side without clashing.
Or maybe it felt normal because I’d been raised inside it.
Either way, I knew what this dinner was before my mother ever opened her mouth.
A head count.
Another one of her sons had found his person.Another woman had been pulled into the family and loved five seconds after crossing the threshold.Another proof point in her long-running argument that all men worth being proud of eventually settled down and gave her grandchildren.
My father believed it too, though he said it less aggressively.
Parvis could make a philosophy out of anything.Marriage and instinct.Legacy.He liked to talk about greatness as if it were a discipline men either rose into or failed by choice.He had softened over the years, but not on that point.
A man built differently once he had something to protect.
A man became more when he stopped living only for himself.
It sounded very noble and also very exhausting.
I drank my tea and let Charlie make enough noise for the whole side of the table.
“Are you even listening?”he asked me at one point.
“No.”
“Honest.I respect it.”
Roman didn’t look up from his plate.“You respect very little.”
Charlie grinned.“And yet I’m still your favorite brother.”
“You’re not even your own favorite version of yourself,” Jeff said dryly from farther down.
Hope laughed into her wine.
The whole table felt settled in that peculiar, dangerous way family dinners here always did.Comfortable enough that everyone started saying what they thought.That was when mistakes happened.
My mother rose to refill someone’s tea and stopped beside me.
I didn’t look up.
“Xerses joon.”
I set my glass down.“Maman.”
She smoothed a hand over my shoulder like this was tender and not tactical.“You’ll be here next weekend too, yes?”
“Adrien’s graduation?”I asked.
“Yes.The full weekend.No disappearing to Manhattan after brunch.I mean it.”
I flicked my gaze up to hers.Beautiful and warm.Deadly.“You say that like I’m twelve.”
