Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) Agnes Canestri (best books to read in your 20s .txt) 📖

How will he react? I hope he’ll say he feels the same way about me. He still didn’t tell me anything, but his kind actions must speak louder than words. Also he might have wanted to reveal something to me when we danced and Murphy interrupted us. His flushed cheeks and throaty tone did point in that direction.

As I amble to Marjorie, I’m still pondering (and hoping) that tonight might become my own Cinderella ball with a great happily-ever-after…

Chapter 32

(Nathan)

“So Mother enlisted you to babysit me while they test Eva?”

My voice comes out as a raspy whisper, even if there’s no need for me to speak quietly. Malcom and I are in their library with three sturdy walls between us and Mother’s study, which should ensure that whatever I say won’t be overheard.

“Are you nervous about it?” Malcom taps my shoulder. His friendly smile reveals the prominent gap between his two front teeth. My step-father’s grey hair is cut shorter than the last time I saw him, but his face is just as oblong and jolly as always. Normally, his cheery expression immediately awakens a pang of annoyance in me, but today, for some mysterious reason, I find it comforting.

Oh man, am I this tense about leaving Eva with Mother and Murphy?

I shrug. “Perhaps a little.”

I know Murphy and Mother will spend the next fifteen minutes interrogating Eva. I have no doubt about how Eva will speak of me. Even if she hasn’t spelled it out to me, I know how she feels about me. I can sense it.

I just hope my brother will use all his professional skills to make the process of questioning as natural as possible.

Malcom nods. “That’s why I suggested we hide out here instead of joining the crowd downstairs. This room always brings peace to my troubled mind. It’s my little corner.”

I understand immediately what Malcom means. This room is the only one that my step-father has decorated. He’s an avid reader and his love of books is such that Mother asked him to furbish this space as he pleased, knowing that her husband would spend most of the time in here. I haven’t set foot in it in the past ten years, so I’m utterly abashed by its simplistic yet sophisticated design. Instead of being perpendicular to the walls, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are positioned at a slight angle, creating an intriguing peekaboo effect with the books.

My eyes wander to my feet and I realize that instead of flamboyant rugs the room only has a beige-monochrome carpet. I raise my chin and capture Malcom’s gaze. “Well, I can’t fathom how you got Mother on board with this raw plywood and the unfinished edges that give the shelves this warm and honest look, but it’s certainly a choice that I find beautiful.”

Malcom chuckles. “That’s a great compliment coming from you, Nate. You see, we might just have more in common than you thought.”

His comment catches me off guard and reminds me, at the same time, of what he told Eva earlier. I rub my neck. “You know I never realized that you feel awkward at these events.”

“Well, it’s not the easiest thing to adapt to the beau monde when you come into it as an adult. Eva’s giving it a tremendous effort and doing a great job, I think. She’s certainly more gracious than I ever could be.”

His kind appreciation of Eva warms my stomach, a feeling that I’ve probably never endured while chatting with my step-dad. If I’m honest, I’ve never really conversed with him at all. Our interactions were limited to what was strictly necessary, mostly because I refused to answer any questions he posed to me when I came home during vacations or when he tagged along with Mother in my school visits.

“Eva’s an amazing person.” I nod. “And…I’m sorry I gave you a hard time as a kid.”

Malcom gives out a bemused snort. “Ah, Nate. You were a child and you were hurting. I never took your little pranks personally. You were right to feel hostile about someone who, without your consent, took the place your father had occupied. I am the one who’s sorry that we made the decision to send you to boarding school. I truly thought that being away from the place that caused you so much pain would help you grow up healthier. But I might have been wrong. I wasn’t, and still am not, a father after all. My understanding of child psychology is bad apparently, to say the least.”

My eyes widen. Did Malcom just apologize to me? I adjust my shoulders, which feel hard like when I’m hanging on the top of my bouldering wall. “You did a good job raising Murphy, Malcom. You have been a father to him.”

The kind like Father never was to me.

A flush creeps across Malcom’s cheeks. “Yes, I hope so. But I certainly missed out on my chance to connect with you. And it’s something I truly regret.”

I suddenly realize that if I’d let him, Malcom could’ve become the same important figure to me as he is to my brother. But I was so blinded with my rage and sense of injustice that I never even gave him a chance.

The regret in my step-father’s tone is sincere and matches mine. This odd realization that our relationship could’ve evolved entirely different moves something in me. I don’t exactly know what. Nor why I ask him what I’m about to. I certainly didn’t plan on it when we entered the library. I didn’t even realize it was a question I’ve ever contemplated. But the words fly out of my mouth with a rapid mumble, “Malcom, I was wondering, why did you give up your career when you married Mother? It wasn’t just because of her money, was it?”

Malcom’s thin lips form a perfect “O” for a second, then he sniffs. “I never thought you’d actually confront me about this, Nate.”