At this, I relax slightly. There’s no hostility in his voice. Just a dad wanting to meet his son’s girlfriend.
“Sebastian and I aren’t on the best of terms,” he presses. “I doubted he would introduce you to me on his own, which is why I’m making this call. I do care about him. I know you understand.”
A thread of nervousness runs through me. Maybe he wants to make sure I’m good enough for Sebastian. Good enough for his wealthy family, which I know I’m not. Then again, maybe I’m being paranoid. It’s just as likely that Mr. Crane sees this as a chance to begin repairing things with Sebastian.
My heart lightens at the thought. Sebastian’s family is so broken. If he and his father got along, it could change everything. Maybe they just need a mediator. There’s no question that Mr. Crane
hasn’t been the best parent to Sebastian, but people change. Sebastian has.
“Of course I’ll meet you,” I say. “Where and when?”
“Excellent. Half an hour, say, at Patricio’s? It’s just downtown from the school—I’m certain you won’t have a hard time finding it. But I can send a car if need be?”
“No, I can get there.” I’ve passed Patricio’s, a high-class Italian restaurant, at least a few times. I can make the walk in fifteen minutes. That leaves me ten to dress in something relatively presentable, and five to be early.
“Very well. Looking forward to meeting you, May.” Click.
My first reaction is to start punching in Sebastian’s number, but then I stop. A sudden fantasy plays out in my head: I invite Sebastian to dinner, and when he gets there, I’m sitting at the table with his father, who immediately jumps up and apologizes for everything.
If brunch goes well, then maybe…
I snap my phone shut
, mustering courage, and turn to my closet.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in front of the swanky restaurant in a skirt and blouse Renée bought me. I realize that, in all likelihood, it was probably technically Mr. Crane who paid for this outfit. I kind of wish I wore something else, but it’s too late now.
The waiter asks my name when I walk through the door, and when I give it to him, he ushers me toward the back of the restaurant, where a single table is slightly separated from the others. Sitting there with his hands neatly together is a man who looks a lot like Sebastian. He’s older—there are fine lines around his mouth, and his eyes are a different shade, but the resemblance is unmistakable.
I swallow and sit down, the white tablecloth brushing my legs. “Hi, Mr. Crane. I’m May—”
“Young,” he finishes. He keeps the pleasant tone he had on the phone, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I appreciate this chance to finally meet you.”
“It’s great to meet you too,” I say quickly. We shake hands. His grip is firm and unyielding.
Before either of us can say anything else, the waiter comes. Mr. Crane orders a few appetizers and dismisses him with a practiced swish of the hand. I’m not hungry at all—just nervous. It’s odd to think of how much I know about his family’s tragedy. If I were him, I wouldn’t want strangers knowing.
“What are you studying at school, May?” he asks politely.
“Economics.” I wonder if I should add anything else.
“A practical choice. You must have seen where your mother’s Art History major got her.” He chuckles to himself.
I freeze up. How the hell does
he know what my mom majored in? But he keeps smiling like he hasn’t just abandoned small-talk territory. “You must excuse me. I like to keep an eye out for my son’s welfare, and of course that means checking up on the background of any girl who happens to catch his fancy, no matter how briefly.”
No wonder Sebastian’s relations with this man are strained. He’s clearly trying to make me insecure—make me think I’m just some momentary interest of Sebastian’s. I keep my tone calm. “That’s a lot of checking up for someone who’s only going to be around…briefly.”
“I’m a businessman. It’s how we operate.” He checks the time on a very expensive-looking watch. “So you agree that you’re only going to be around briefly?”
“I’m not going to play this game, Mr. Crane,” I say. His eyes fly open, but I don’t stop, even though I have to hide my hands under the table so he won’t see them trembling. “And I want you to know that I understand. I’m not going to pretend I don’t come from a poor family. And Sebastian comes from—well, yeah. I get why you’d try to scare me off. But the thing is that I really do care about him. More every day. If there’s any way I can prove that to you, let me know.”
The surprise falls off his face until I’m the one shocked—to see him laughing. The skin at the corners of his eyes pulls as he chortles. “You misunderstand me. I’m not trying to protect Sebastian from you.”
Relief makes me chatty. “Trust me, if I were some gold-digger, he would have figured it out in—”
“I’m trying to protect
you
,” he interrupts, “from
him.
”
The appetizers come, the noisy clattering of plates masking the fact that I’ve fallen totally silent. Mr. Crane nods at the waiter and spears a piece of tomato covered in a thick slice of fresh mozzarella. “He’s my son. I know him better than anyone else. So I see it as my duty to warn you.”
“Warn me?” I say, again cool, anger tickling against my spine.
His empty fork drops against his plate. “Sebastian is incapable of caring for another person. The only thing he’s able to do is manipulate, and use. He has no emotions, you see. He’s a machine.”
I stand up. I barely realize that I’ve done it until I catch a few other patrons staring at me. Mr. Crane has raised a quizzical eyebrow. I sit back down slowly, aware that I’m flushed with furious heat from my neck to my forehead. “You’re wrong. He’s nothing like that.”
“I’ve made my career on being right.” There’s an edge to his words.
“Well, you’re wrong this time,” I say tightly. “Sebastian is very human. Most of all he’s a good person. One of the best I know.”
He leans forward, a pitying gesture. “You don’t know what he’s done—”
“I know what happened to your wife.” There. Now it’s out. For a moment, Mr. Crane’s constructed expression flickers to reveal something hard and merciless underneath. Something raw. But it’s covered up quickly. I talk over the feeling it leaves behind. “And I know that you think it was his fault. I’m not here to judge you, Mr. Crane. I have no idea what it feels like to go through something like that. I’m sure blame is how a lot of people would handle it. But you need to know that your blame has hurt your son. And if you can apologize to him for that, you’d get a chance to have a relationship with the most incredible person—”
He slams a fist against our table. The silverware jumps, me along with it. Then he stares at his fist like it’s an alien object, his face smoothing over once again. “It takes a great man to admit when he’s wrong.”
I hold my breath.
“It takes a greater man to admit when he’s created a monster.” He leans away from me. “Sebastian is one. A monster well-suited to my needs and his eventual career, but a monster nonetheless.”
I want to leap up snarling, but he holds up a hand, a smile playing around his lips. “Do you know that I’ve had Sebastian watched since his mother was killed? I’ve intercepted every possible friend, every possible connection and made sure they never spoke to him again. His destiny is to be
my
successor. Other people would only make him weak. I refuse to allow you to make him weak.”
All thoughts of a reconciliation have flown out of my head. Now my only fantasy is to punch Mr. Crane very hard in the face. All of the Sebastian’s loneliness is his father’s fault. All of it.
“And I’ll tell you this, May
Young
. If you don’t stay very far away from Sebastian from now on, I have ways of making you regret it. Ways of making people disappear.”
His expression is flat, like he’s delivering a business deal ultimatum. Like he’s used to saying these words. Used to people cowering and doing whatever he says.
I bring my fist down on the table, mimicking his earlier gesture. “Mr. Crane, I’m not afraid of you.”
A louder bang echoes the sound my fist made, and at first I think the waiter’s dropped a tray behind us.
I turn, ready to help—anything to escape this conversation. But it’s not the waiter. Someone’s just thrown the door of the restaurant open so hard it’s bounced off the wall. I shade my eyes and see who it is—
Sebastian.
He’s panting slightly as he strides over to us. There’s a bruise on his face and his clothes are torn. I stand up. “Sebastian—”
He grabs me and shoves me behind him, a gesture that could be rough if not for the gentleness in his hands.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course—are you?”
There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he turns to his father. “I think your private security personnel need an upgrade. Or did you mean for me to take them out that easily?”
“You,” Mr. Crane hisses, a patch of muscle twitching above his eyebrow, “have forgotten who you are. You’re my son, and you listen to me.”
“Not anymore.” He hides the pain in his voice well, but I catch it anyway. I find his hand and grip it hard.
We’re being stared at. The waiter dithers nearby, probably wondering whether it’s safe to ask us to leave. Mr. Crane straightens his tie, the picture of unruffled calm, but his voice is deadly like a nest of vipers. “If you really loved her, you’d never have pulled her into your life. You’d have left her.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Sebastian snarls. “Do you think I’m not already beating myself up for that? I can’t control myself. I—” he twists to face me, agonized, “love her.”
My heart does about twenty backflips in a row.
“Don’t be pathetic,” says Mr. Crane icily. “I raised you to be strong, not someone who doesn’t even have mastery over your own will. Leave her. It’s the best for both of you.”
“I’m still here, if you both forgot.” I raise my voice, pushing back out from behind Sebastian and catching his eye. “If you leave me for something as stupid as that, I’ll follow you across the whole world. I’ll never stop pestering you. I can be really persistent, which you probably figured out a while ago.”
He smiles crookedly.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Now Mr. Crane is standing as well, fury taut in his features. He levels a finger at Sebastian. “No one outside our family’s ever cared about you before. Why do you think she’s any different? You think after what you did to your mother you deserve to—”
He stops talking and starts spluttering instead, because a glass of wine has just been dumped in his face. I twirl the stem of the cup between my fingers, trembling with anger but doing my best to enjoy his expression of utter shock, the liquid staining his expensive jacket. “That was
not
his fault. Don’t you dare say it was.”
For a second there’s total silence, just the drip of wine onto the table. Then Sebastian seizes my wrist and pulls me after him, out of the restaurant. I can practically hear the waiter sigh in relief.
I don’t dare look back.
As soon as we reach the street, Sebastian hails a cab. The cool, dark interior seems like a haven after the tension of the restaurant. I look at Sebastian. He’s staring at his hands, which are shaking. I realize he’s terrified.
I scoot closer to him and check the bruise above his eye. “That doesn’t look too bad. You—”
He grabs me and h
ugs me to him, incredibly tightly. I’m so surprised I can’t say anything. His every muscle is taut. I breathe against his chest, wishing there was some way I could relieve him of all this.
And hating Mr. Crane so much it makes my skin tingle.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” His voice is unsteady.
“Don’t be sorry.” I pull back and hold his face in my hands, so he has to look at me. “I dragged myself into it. Remember? You wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I basically forced you to talk to me. None of this is your fault.”
He gives an indecipherable little laugh. “I never questioned what my father wanted from me because I never questioned his opinion of me. I guess I owe you for that.”
I’m not sure what to say to this, so I just cover his hand with mine. “So what now?”
For a moment, something endlessly dark passes through his face, but it’s gone in an instant and I’m not even sure I saw it. “Nothing. I think we’ve convinced him there’s nothing he can do.”
“Really?” I can’t help but feel doubtful. “He didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d give up that easily.”
“He’s never had wine thrown in his face before.” He tries to smile, but it doesn’t seem real. “Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.”
“You’re sure?” There’s a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but Sebastian wears a calm expression, and I can’t bring myself to tell him I don’t think this will work out as easily as he believes. “
I guess—yeah. The way you stood up to him back there, I bet he’ll be treating you differently from now on.”
This feels stupidly optimistic, even to me, but all he does is smooth a strand of hair back from my forehead. “Of course.”