Home > The Heir (The Selection #4)(31)

The Heir (The Selection #4)(31)
Author: Kiera Cass

I was afraid to ask, but I wanted to be clear. “Are your parents divorced?” I asked, doubting that was the case.

“No. He passed away.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling mortified that I’d indirectly insulted his memory.

“It’s okay. Not one of those things you know without being told.”

“Can I ask when he died?”

“About seven years ago. I know this will sound weird, but sometimes I’m jealous of my youngest brother. Beau was about six when it happened, and he remembers Dad, but not the way I do, you know? Sometimes I wish I didn’t have so much to miss.”

“I’d be willing to bet he’s jealous of you for the opposite reason.”

He gave me a sad smile. “I never thought about that.”

We turned up the main stairs, focusing on our steps. When we got to the landing on the fourth floor, I started again.

“What does your mother do?”

Hale swallowed. “Right now she’s working as a secretary at the local university. She . . . well, it’s been hard for her to hold down a good job, but she likes this one, and she’s had it for a long time. I just realized I began that sentence with ‘right now’ because I was used to her switching a lot, but she hasn’t done that for a while.

“Like I said when we met, my dad was a Two. He was an athlete. Went in for a surgery on his knee, but there was a clot and it made its way to his heart. Mom had never worked a day in her life—between her parents and Dad she was taken care of. After we lost him, all she was good at was being a basketball player’s wife.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah.”

I was so grateful when we came upon the parlor. How had Dad managed this? How did he sift through all those girls, testing them to find his wife? Getting to know one person was already wearing me out, and we weren’t even five minutes into our first date.

“Wow,” Hale whispered, admiring the setup.

From the fourth-floor parlors at the front of the palace you could just barely look out over the walls. Angeles in the evening let out a beautiful glow, and I’d asked for the parlor lights to be dimmed so we could really see it.

There was a small table in the middle of the room that had various cakes on it, and a dessert wine was waiting on the side. I’d never tried to set up a romantic evening before, but I thought I did a good job for my first try.

Hale pulled out my chair before joining me at the table.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got several. These are chocolate, obviously,” I said, pointing to the dozens of tiny cakes. “Then lemon, vanilla, and cinnamon.”

Hale stared at the piles of treats in front of us like I’d actually given him something huge. “Listen, I don’t want to be rude,” he said, “but if there’s anything you want, you should grab it now, because there’s a serious chance I will demolish these.”

I laughed. “Help yourself.”

He picked up one of the chocolate cakes and popped the whole thing into his mouth. “Mmmmmmm.”

“Try the cinnamon. It’ll change your life.”

We kept eating for a while, and I thought maybe this would be enough for one night. We’d moved into very safe territory; I could talk about desserts for hours! But then, without warning, he started talking about his life again.

“So my mom works at the university, but I work with a tailor in town.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m very interested in clothes. Well, I am now anyway. Right after Dad died it was harder to get new things, so I learned to hide the rips in my brothers’ shirts or let out a hem as they grew. Then Mom had a pile of dresses she was hoping to sell to get some money, and I took two pieces and combined them to make something new for her. It wasn’t perfect, but I was good enough at it that I could probably get a job.

“So I read a lot and study what Lawrence does—he’s my boss. Every now and then he’ll let me take projects on my own. I guess that’s what I’ll do down the line.”

I smirked. “You’re definitely one of the more put-together guys in the group.”

He smiled bashfully. “It’s easy when I’ve got so much to work with. My butler is great, so he’s helped me with making sure the fit on everything is impeccable. I don’t think he appreciates all my pairings, but I want to look like a gentleman while still looking like myself, if that makes any sense.”

I nodded enthusiastically as I swallowed a bit of cake. “Do you know how hard it is when you love jeans but you’re a princess?”

He chuckled. “But you balance it so well! I mean, they plaster your outfits across every magazine, so I’ve seen plenty. Your style is very individual.”

“You think so?” I felt encouraged. Criticism was heavy these days, and that one scrap of praise was like water in the desert.

“Definitely!” he gushed. “I mean, you dress like a princess but then kind of not. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were actually the ringleader of an all-girl mafia.”

I spit out my wine all over the table, which made Hale burst into laughter.

“I’m so sorry!” I felt my cheeks burning. “If Mom saw that, I’d get the worst lecture.”

Hale wiped the tears from his eyes and leaned forward. “Do they really lecture you? I mean, aren’t you basically running the country?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Dad does most of the work. I just shadow him.”

“But that’s a formality at this point, right?”

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