Why redo something his father would never live to see to completion?
It was all too much to take in. Not to mention his father being ornery as hell and firing every nurse Declan hired for him. So Declan had escaped to his yacht the past week and tried to drink his troubles away. He hadn’t been one to look for answers in the bottom of a bottle in almost a decade, but this seemed like as good a time as any to become a borderline drunk.
Declan had enjoyed his brunch at the yacht club with Winston, ending their meal with one of the best Bloody Mary’s he’d ever consumed.
“You heading home?” Winston asked as they walked out into the parking lot towards Declan’s Range Rover.
“Hell no,” Declan replied. “I was thinking of heading to Sullivan’s to check out the new digs.”
Declan had bought a home on Sullivan’s Island shortly after he arrived and realized the gravity of Henry’s situation, and that he might be in the Holy City for more than a couple days; or even months. The yacht was okay for a little while, but Declan needed space and a view. The 6,000 square foot beach front mansion on Sullivan’s provided both.
“You closed on it already?” Winston asked.
“Yep. It was vacant and I paid cash. So she’s all mine,” Declan smiled as he put a pair of Aviator sunglasses over his blue eyes.
“Must be nice,” Winston chuckled. “That house is one of the most expensive on the Charleston market.”
“Was the most,” Declan corrected him. “But it’s all relative.”
“When you’re worth almost two billion dollars I guess spending eight figures on a house is just a drop in the bucket,” Winston pulled the Audi keys out of his pocket. “You’ve come a long way since our Kappa Sig days.”
Declan shrugged, “I would hope so.”
Winston slapped his friend on the back, “And you’ve gone through a lot of ladies since your Charlotte days.”
Just hearing her name almost made Declan’s heart stop.
“Why would you even mention her?” Declan asked. “That was almost ten years ago.”
Winston could tell he’d overstepped, “Sorry, man. Didn’t realize it was still a sore subject.”
Now Declan was pissed, “Who said it was? It’s just fucked up to mention her when she hasn’t been a part of my life for so long.”
Winston’s smile faded, “I’m sorry, man. Really. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”
Declan sighed, “Try to remember not to do it again.”
And with that, Declan turned away from his car and headed back toward the dock and the yacht, where a whole wet bar of bourbon awaited him.
Ten Years Ago…
Charlotte Sanders wasn’t in the best mood the day she first met Declan DeGraff.
First of all, it was hotter than Hell itself. By late May in Charleston, South Carolina, being outside is like trying to walk and breathe through wet cotton.
Second of all, she’d just been advised by her roommate that she was going to need to find a new place to live. Charlotte’s roommate, Allyn Legare, was an uppity sorority girl who wanted to live with her boyfriend for the summer.
“I mean, your lease is up anyway,” Allyn had said. “And Russell and I are ready to take it to the next level, you know?”
“I mean, you’re giving me no notice,” Charlotte said, trying not to raise her voice to match how she felt inside. “If I’d I would have to move out, I would have made arrangements months ago. It’s going to be almost impossible to find a place now.”
Allyn shrugged, “Sorry. It is what it is, you know?”
Charlotte had never been a violent person, but she wanted to punch Allyn in the face.
“Our place is two bedrooms,” Charlotte said. “I’m assuming you two would share one. I don’t mind him moving in, it would actually make rent cheaper for everyone if there was three of us.”
Allyn looked at Charlotte confused, “You know I don’t pay my own rent. Daddy handles all that. Besides, I want to turn your room into a big walk-in closet.”
Charlotte sighed. Of course. Girls like Allyn didn’t have to worry about the same things girls like Charlotte did.
“Okay,” Charlotte said, standing up from the futon they’d been sitting on. “Guess I should start figuring this out.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Allyn said, sounding anything but.
********
At the same moment, a few blocks over, Declan DeGraff was visiting his parents.
He was basking on the balcony of his parents' house on Meeting Street. It was May and his exams had ended the week before. Declan was a free man for the summer.
His father had flown out of town with some of his old fraternity brothers for a "man's weekend away" to Key West. Declan’s mother, Anna DeGraff, sat next to him in a wicker chair, sipping her sweet tea, fanning her perfectly applied face, talking about how much she was going to get done while her husband was gone. They were sitting there, a beautiful cliché of a moneyed, southern family.