I held out my glass but instead of dropping it in, he moved it to my mouth popping one in.
“Tell me more.”
I couldn’t believe how fast we flew across the country when the captain announced we were landing soon. Neither Scott nor I got any work done on the plane. We tried, but ended up talking most of the ride. A little while after we leveled out, I couldn’t get over my freakout during takeoff.
Real smooth Elle.
Scott picked up on my embarrassment from fear of flying and told me all the things that still scared him.
“Not getting a deal, doesn’t count, Mr. Weston.” I had teased before he had a chance to share his fears.
But he surprised me. He told me he was afraid of small spaces, dark small spaces in particular. Which he believed to be a result of his first closet kiss in the fifth grade where he’d accidentally kissed Ralph Shephard instead of Rachel Miller.
When I finally stopped laughing, he told me about his fear of geckos, centipedes and Tuesdays.
I was confused about that last one until he told me he was just referencing a Tom Hanks movie, The Terminal.
And that wasn’t the only Tom Hanks movie reference on this flight. There was another one involving an airplane malfunction he just had to tell me about. That one was revenge for my hysteria over his make out session in the fifth grade, I was sure of it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for landing.” The voice announced through the speakers.
I gripped both arm rests, when Scott calmly took my left hand in his.
“Hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. About the man I introduced you to a few weeks back, Ron Brightman.”
I turned at the mention of my old boss, my mentor, the man I’d looked up to for seven years until he gave up and folded, laying off forty of the city's most talented event planners.
“Is this about your…distant relation to him?”
He blinked. “Yeah, that.” He rubbed his forehead and nearly winced as he spoke. “Ron... is my father.”
Chills coursed through me. How was this possible? Life certainly was having a ball with me these days.
Wait a minute.
Ron didn’t have children. Since there was no way I could say that, I stayed silent.
“I’m sorry, I know I should have told you before, I just didn’t want you thinking I was introducing you to one of my parents. Ron hasn’t been that for me...in a very long time.” His voice didn’t have a hint of regret or sadness. It was more factual.
“I don’t understand, your parents aren’t in London?”
“My mother is—with Philip. Who she met some time after Ron left us.” His voice was cold and void of emotion.
My heart pounded and I couldn’t breathe. Ron sat there, knowing I was lying to his son and said nothing? Why wouldn’t he have called me at the very least? He still had my number, heavens knew the man had it memorized.
“Between ages nine and eighteen, I saw him twice and received four birthday cards.”
“Why did he leave?” The question sounded more like a demand rather than concern.
He took a deep breath. “On business initially. He insisted he didn’t want to uproot the family and left us behind.” He glanced out the window past me. “He never came back. My mother met Philip when I was eleven and he’s been more of a father to me since.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Ron—the same man who urged me to find happiness and start a family rather than work my life away—abandoned his own? “How did you...reconnect?”
Scott stared at me, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He opened his mouth but I cut him off.
“Sorry, I’m asking too many questions.”
“No, it’s completely fine. Once I was old enough, I moved to the city myself and kind of kept tabs on him. One glorious day Donovan tossed a new deal onto my desk. A developer was very interested in Ron’s building and asked us to pursue.”
