The Idea of You by Darcy Burke

Author:Darcy Burke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

THE UNMISTAKABLE BARITONE of Dad’s voice outside the closed office door drove Evan from the chair in front of his father’s desk. Evan had come early for the meeting to purposely avoid seeing Dad’s secretary. He didn’t want anyone else to know the truth before he told Dad. He owed him that much.

He turned to face the door—and the music. Anxiety pricked his neck and unsettled his senses. He felt fidgety and a bit . . . raw. But it could be so much worse. Thankfully he’d spent an extra ten minutes in the gym that morning in anticipation of this very reaction.

Dad opened the door and looked at Evan in mild confusion. “Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you. Is everything all right?”

Evan exhaled. “Yep, fine.”

“Great.” Dad walked past him and circled behind his desk, dropping his laptop bag on top of it. “I have a meeting. Can we catch up later?”

“No.” Say it. “I’m your meeting.”

Deep furrows etched into Dad’s brow as his movements slowed and then stilled. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m the creative director. I made up the name Eric Steele.”

Dad blinked at him. “But I spoke to you on the phone. Or was that someone else pretending to be you? Rather, Eric Steele?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“It was me. I used a voice distorter.”

“You used a what?” Dad ran his hand through his hair, mussing it so that he looked as though he’d just taken off his helmet after a long bike ride. “Sit down and start at the beginning.” He dropped into his chair, his shoulders drooping. “Please.”

Evan sat, but every muscle in his body was tense and taut. “I’m not sure where the beginning is.”

Dad leaned forward and set his elbow on the desk, then rested his forehead against his palm. He massaged the lines away—at least partially. “Let me try to understand. You’re the creative director I hired two months ago. The one who gets the Archer brand like no one else. The one who’s absolutely knocked my socks off and exceeded all expectations.”

Evan started to relax as warmth spread through him. “Um . . . yes?”

Dad flopped back in his chair and laughed. It started low and then came from deep in his belly. Evan had no idea what could be funny. He fixed his gaze on the view of the hills behind Dad. At last, Dad wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m just so relieved. And ecstatic.”

“Why relieved?”

Dad rested his hands on the arms of his chair. “Because I was feeling terribly guilty for loving your work so much. It felt almost . . . sacrilegious to Alex’s memory.” He shook his head again and sat forward, bracing his hands on the desk to scoot his chair closer. “But it isn’t, especially since it’s you. I can’t think of anyone better to carry on his legacy.”

Evan wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. He’d never wanted to infringe on Alex’s place.

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