Stephanie folded her arms on the starch-white tablecloth in front of her, peering at me over an assortment of antique silver candlesticks with waxless candles in them. “Ready for the more personal questions?”
“Born ready.” That was such a fucking lie. I hated talking about personal shit, but I’d known it was coming. Since I already started opening to Steph about Jack’s death a couple of days ago, it wasn’t all that hard telling her more about my brother and father.
Her questions were gentle yet probing. Not in a way that pried open your soul and tore open old scars, but in a way that made me want to tell her things. We talked all through dinner, with brief pauses to swallow the delicious food and order refills of our wine.
“Did you always want to work for Williams Inc.?” she asked after taking her last bite of food. My plate was cleared as well. George had outdone himself again.
I shook my head in answer to her question. “Business was Dad’s thing, and Jack’s. I remember the two of them reading the trades together when I was barely old enough to walk.”
“That sounds...” She trailed off, frowning. “Never mind. I don’t want to be disrespectful.”
“It sounds terrible?” I guessed. Steph nodded. “It was. Children aren’t supposed to know or care about the markets, but Jack and I always knew.”
“Did you care?”
I chuckled dryly. “Not in the least. I usually got bored and ran off outside. Jack would sit through it all before he came outside to play.”
“He cared then? Did he like business?”
I shrugged. “I think he cared because Dad did. He always knew the expectations on him to take over the business one day. He reconciled himself with it at a pretty young age.”
“That’s a heavy burden for a kid to carry.”
Once again, I was amazed at how easy it was to be open with her about all this. I nodded. “Adventure sports were his one escape. I think it reminded him he was alive, that there was a great big world out there not made of boardrooms.”
“I get that,” Steph said earnestly. From what she told me about her own parents, I thought she really did. You didn’t have to be a billionaire’s kid to feel the pressure from your parents. “My parents never subscribed to the ‘let kids be kids’ mantra either.”
I raised my glass and clinked it to hers. “Here’s to rebelling against expectations.”
“Amen to that.” She laughed, taking a deep drink. “Not that either of us is rebelling successfully anymore. I ended up getting the business degree they wanted me to, and now I’m working for a multi-national corporation. So are you.”
“Yeah, well… All kids have to grow up, right? My father still expects me to become a better businessman. I don’t think he’ll ever stop pushing. Do your parents even know where you’re working now?”
She shook her head. “They abandoned me, remember? I’m doing this for me, not for them.”
We kept talking until the restaurant started emptying out, bonding about our shared experiences growing up. About not fitting into the molds our parents crafted for us. Laughing about all the trouble we’d gotten into along the way.
I was comfortable with her in a way I wasn’t with many people. Along with my comfort level increasing, so did my attraction to her. By the time we left the restaurant, it sure as hell didn’t feel like this had been a casual dinner between boss and employee.