Chapter 275: Good Morning, Now Get Married

The first thing that hit me when I started living my adult life was how silence has its own vibe.

At times, it felt lovely...like those quiet early mornings when the sun was just starting to peek over the rooftops, and everything seemed to move at a snail’s pace.

But then there were days, like today, when that silence felt heavy, lurking in every corner of the apartment, reminding me that I was the only one to blame for burning breakfast.

There I was, standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, with a piece of toast slowly.

I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d turned into the kind of adult who willingly woke up before seven in the morning.

The truth probably lay somewhere between my house rent and my dad’s medical appointments.

The TV was quietly broadcasting the morning news while I tried to whip up some eggs without turning it into a major catastrophe.

The apartment wasn’t big, but it felt cozy enough for us. It had a narrow kitchen, a living room with an old sofa that Dad insisted was still good, even though one cushion had definitively collapsed on the left side, and two compact bedrooms tucked away at the back.

It wasn’t luxurious and it wasn’t Preston Hall.

Not even close.

But it was home.

Or, more accurately, it was the place I forked over rent for every month, where Dad often complained about the heating issues.

Which, honestly, was pretty close.

I plated the eggs and headed toward the table.

"Breakfast’s ready," I announced.

From the living room, Frank called, "Is that food or another one of your experiments?"

I paused, glancing at the plate.

"Food," I replied.

I brought the plate into the living room and found Frank in his wheelchair, just as he liked to be in the mornings, angled toward the window with a blanket over his legs, even though it was a pretty mild day.

He had gotten stronger these past few years...much stronger.

There was a time when I wasn’t sure he’d wake up at all.

Then countless hospital visits, physical therapy, and frustrating days when his body just wouldn’t cooperate.

The new liver had saved his life, but it hadn’t magically made everything disappear.

His legs were still weak, and he couldn’t walk on his own, though he could stand for short spells with some support.

Physical therapy had helped him gain some strength, so he could move around the apartment with little assistance, but for everyday life, the wheelchair was still the safest bet.

He absolutely despised being dependent on anyone.

Which was unfortunate for him because I was apparently his go-to person to boss around.

I set his breakfast on the small table next to him.

"Be careful," I warned. "The eggs are delicate."

Frank glanced at the plate. "They’re just eggs, Ollie."

"They’ve been through a lot."

"So have I."

"Exactly, you should understand their struggles."

He shot me a long look, I smirked and flopped into the chair across from him.

The news played quietly in the background, I didn’t pay attention until the anchor’s tone shifted.

"And in business news this morning, Lockwood Group CEO Damien Lockwood made another significant charitable contribution yesterday, supporting breast cancer research initiatives across the nation..."

I froze for a second, hand halfway to my coffee, then I turned to the TV....there he was.

Damien.

The screen showed him at a podium with the Lockwood Group logo behind him.

He was dressed in a perfectly fitted dark suit, his hair a bit longer than I remembered, neatly pulled back. He looked older.

Not dramatically so.

Just... different, even more composed and more powerful.

The footage showed him talking to reporters while cameras flashed around him.

"Mr. Lockwood’s recent donation brings his foundation’s total charitable contributions over the last two years into the tens of millions, focusing on medical research, education, and women’s health initiatives..."

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen and it irked me how proud I felt.

Proud of this stupid, fucking asshole

That warm feeling crept in before I could stop it as I watched him answer questions with that calm demeanor of his. He looked just like the man he’d been raised to become.

CEO of Lockwood Group.

He’d been in that position for two years now.

Two years, that figure felt strange.

Because it pointed out that while I was crafting this quieter life, Damien had been doing exactly what we promised each other he would do.

He’d gone back.

He’d reclaimed his place, he’d ensured his future and apparently, he was doing some good with it.

The reporter asked why he decided to support breast cancer research.

Damien’s response was calm and concise.

"I believe those with the resources to make a difference have a responsibility to do so."

That was it, no grand speeches and no theatrics.

Just Damien and I almost smiled.

And then I realized I actually was smiling.

I promptly stopped, my Dad caught on, naturally.

Parents have this ridiculous skill for detecting any emotional weakness from across the room.

"That’s him," Dad said.

I took a sip of coffee...I already knew where this conversation was going, "Yeah, I can see that."

"He’s doing well." Dad said with an approving nod.

"Apparently." I said.

Frank turned his attention back to the television. "CEO for two years now?"

"That’s what they said."

"Impressive."

I shrugged. "He’s always been annoyingly capable. Fucking Know-It-All."

Dad glanced at me with a teasing grin. "You sound proud of him."

"I can feel proud of someone without being emotionally involved."

"But you were involved once upon a time. ."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "Dad!"

"What?"

"You can’t just say things like that before breakfast, I just woke up."

He smiled, clearly pleased with his little jab. "Remind me what even happened between you two again?"

There it was, the question I’d managed to dodge for years, and yet it popped up every time Damien’s name came up on the tv, on magazines and on fucking social media.

I couldn’t escape him...

I stared at my father and he looked completely innocent, I knew better.

"We’ve talked about this, Dad."

"No, you’ve talked around it."

"Dad, c’mon."

"You were together."

"We were."

"And then you weren’t."

"Correct."

"Why?"

I reached for the remote. "Because life is complicated, Dad."

Dad sighed. "That’s what you always say."

"Because it’s true."

"That’s not an explanation."

"It’s the explanation you’re getting." I said as I switched the channel and a cooking show flickered on.

Dad stared at the television for a moment before looking back at me. "You know, most people your age would probably talk to their parents about this sort of stuff."

"Most people my age don’t have parents who interrogate them before they finish their food."

"I’m just trying to understand, Ollie."

"I know." I replied, then he raised an eyebrow and I sighed. "Sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult."

"You are."

"I guess I inherited that."

"From your mother."

My expression soured, we weren’t supposed to mention her and he chuckled. I stood up and grabbed the plates before he could continue.

Over the years, I learned that sometimes, exiting the room was a perfectly valid strategy, especially when it involved my love life...or more accurately, my lack thereof.

I carried the dishes to the kitchen and started rinsing them, the warm water and soap giving me some practical focus.

Behind me, Frank said, "You’re turning twenty-five soon."

I closed my eyes. "Here we fucking go again..."

"I haven’t even said anything yet."

"You were about to."

"I was going to say you’re getting older."

"That’s worse."

He laughed. "You’re so single, they should stamp it right across your forehead. Single For Life!"

I rolled my eyes, "Dad!"

"You’ve been single for years."

"I work."

"You work too much."

"I have a job, Dad. I don’t have time for that right now."

"You have a career."

"Exactly. One that pays for food." I said, "Unless you don’t want to keep eating, leave me alone."

Frank sighed dramatically, a sound rich from years of practice. "I’d like some grandkids before I die."

I turned around. "Dad."

"What?"

"You survived a transplant, you woke up after three months in a coma."

"Yes."

"You learned how to use a wheelchair and you’ve gone through years of physical therapy."

"Yes."

"And after all that, your biggest concern is whether I’ll give you grandkids?!"