Ashton Scott

I stare at him, incredulous. My carefully contained anger at his behaviour this morning frays. He’s been on the phone with business associates since we arrived, unwilling to push his work aside for even a minute while his wife’s health hangs in the balance. “No, I don’t know the phone number for a woman running a goddam charity. That’s hardly in the realm of what I do with my time.” He always—always—does his best to downplay my business success. I have no doubt that him asking me for the lunch organiser’s number is his way of putting me in my place.

His lips flatten. It’s the only sign that I’ve angered him. My father is exceptional at hiding his emotions. This skill is one of the secrets of his business success. “I wouldn’t know what you do with your time anymore, son.” His voice is low and controlled. He’s always so damn guarded.

Neither of us moves. We simply stay where we are and watch each other warily. The tension of the situation has me on edge more than I usually am around him. I’m strung so tightly I know it won’t take much for me to snap. And that isn’t something I want to do while I wait to find out my mother’s prognosis.

In the end, it’s Alessandra who moves the conversation forward. She joins us, hands Dad her phone, and says, “That’s Margaret’s number. She’s organising the lunch today.”

His gaze slices to her as he takes the phone. “Thank you, Alessandra.”

I track his steps as he leaves us and exits the waiting room. Once he’s no longer in sight, I drop my head, scrub my face and mutter, “Fuck.”

“Jesus, Ashton, can we just get through today please?”

My head snaps up, the anger I’m trying hard to control unravelling a little more. “The fuck, Aly?”

My tone is too harsh, and she responds to it. The anguish lining her face turns to anger as she lashes out. “For once I’d like our family to let shit go and just be together. Dad’s never going to change. He is who he is, so why can’t you just ignore whatever it is you think he’s saying and just answer his questions for what they are? Life would be a lot bloody easier!”

“Ignore whatever it is I think he’s saying…. What the hell do you mean by that?” My fury sparks and I’m unable to hold it back any longer. Unfortunately, I’m taking it out on the wrong person. But that’s the story of Alessandra’s and my lives—we get messy in the bad blood of our family. We go to battle over the very things we both wish didn’t exist, because it’s the only way our pain can be heard when neither of our parents are interested in acknowledging it.

“You always have to twist his words and make something out of them that might not even be there. For God’s sake, all he asked for was a phone number. All you had to do was say you didn’t have it, but no, you couldn’t stop yourself from reminding him that Ashton Scott doesn’t involve himself in something so lowly as a charity lunch.”

“Fuck, you know I didn’t mean it like that. And you also know exactly what he meant by it. I’m not going to stand around and let him belittle me. Not anymore.”

She exhales loudly. “Maybe you read too much into what he said.”

“You seriously don’t believe that, do you?”

She throws her arms up. “I don’t know, Ashton! All I’m saying is, he simply asked you for a phone number. If you could have just answered that question for him, all this other tension may have been avoided.”

I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. “Christ, Aly, where is this coming from? You of all people know how our father thinks.”

Eyes wild, she doesn’t answer me straight away. Her face twists with distress and she wraps her arms tightly around her body. When she does finally speak, her voice is choked with emotion. I hear the tears she doesn’t show the world. “What if Mum doesn’t make it?” She takes a ragged breath. “I can’t live without her. Our family can’t survive without her.”

Every last bit of anger churning in me retreats, and I reach for her, pulling her close so I can quiet her fears. Not that they ever can be with Aly, but I always try.

My sister is a worrier. She clings to all her fears in ways I can’t fathom. Sometimes I think it’s easier for her to spend time worrying about everything than actually dealing with the truth.

I hold her tightly and smooth her hair. “Mum’s going to be okay, and so are we. And no matter what happens, you and I will always make it. We are our family.”

Her body is so stiff in my arms that I wonder if anything I say will help ease her concerns. She looks up at me, and I see the anxiety in her eyes and on her face. “I know we are, but I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish our family could be more,” she says softly.

“I know.” Fuck, it’s all I ever wanted, too. But my eyes are wide open, and I don’t see that ever happening.

Approaching footsteps draw my attention, and I look up to find Dad and Malcolm walking our way. Malcolm’s gaze is firmly on his wife. The love and concern blazing from his eyes is clear for all to see. I wonder again how Aly either misses it or misreads it.

“Any news?” Dad asks.

Alessandra leaves my embrace and moves to her husband as she answers Dad. “No, nothing yet.”

Malcolm’s arms circle her as he brushes a kiss across her lips and murmurs something I can’t quite hear. She nods before sagging against him. My sister may be well known for her cool and calm manner in business dealings, but I’m concerned that in her personal life she’s an emotional mess. At least she’s allowing Malcolm to comfort her.

Lines wrinkle Dad’s face as he frowns. Flicking his wrist, he checks his watch. “What the hell are these doctors doing? It’s been hours.”

I bite my tongue from lashing out at him and turn to Lorelei. “You want a coffee?”

She nods. “Yes, but let me get it. You wait here in case the doctor comes with some news.”

With a shake of my head, I say, “No, I need to get out of here for a bit. I may say or do something I’ll regret if I don’t.”