Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
When I returned to the living area, I saw takeout bags from Katz’s deli. My mouth watered immediately. “I can’t eat that. I have a shoot in the morning.” It came out whinier than I’d intended, but my disappointment was real. Katz’s pastrami was world-famous. Nan couldn’t help but order it as soon as she landed every time she came to New York.
“I wasn’t sure, so I also ordered you an avocado quinoa salad with hard-boiled eggs.” She gestured to the dining table by the window. “Have a seat, and I’ll get you a… well, I guess you don’t want too much water, do you?”
I let out a breath. “No. They want abs.”
We sat down and started eating. After a few minutes, she couldn’t hold back her strong opinion. “When are you going to stop torturing yourself with this ridiculous diet?”
There was no point in arguing with her because she was right. For the past year, I’d begun hating my modeling career. I’d taken fewer and fewer jobs, only keeping enough of them to be able to still call myself a professional model without feeling like a fraud. I didn’t need the money. Not only had I been born into obscene wealth, but I’d tripped into a second fortune when a group of university friends and I had invented a software program that had sold for billions. And then there’d been my modeling career.
I had more money than sense.
But I also had more money than purpose. If I didn’t want to be the earl yet, and I didn’t want to be a supermodel, and I didn’t want to help run the tech incubator company my friends and I owned, then what was I? Who was I?
“…you don’t know who you are or what you want. Why would I want to be with someone like that?”
Kenji was right.
“I don’t know how to stop,” I admitted before filling my mouth with enough salad to keep from saying more.
“You tell them you’re done. Hell, you tell them you have to go home and take over the family business. They’ll understand, especially when they learn who you really are.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Not easy, maybe, but simple. Your father needs you, Landry. And it wasn’t like you were going to hide from your responsibilities forever.”
“I have a couple of weeks free after tomorrow’s shoot,” I offered. “I was going to use that time to deal with estate business remotely, but I can do it in London and check on Dad.”
She studied me. “And while you’re there, we can make a plan for you to meet with the prime minister to talk about serving in the Lords.”
“Not yet.” I held up a hand. “Please, Nan. This is not my agreement to make anything official. It’s my agreement to come check on Dad and help out, okay?”
I expected her to argue further or at least call me out for being in denial, so her sigh of relief surprised me. “I’m just happy you can come. I’m sure once you see the state of things, you’ll feel ready to finally take your place where you belong. Back home with us.”
I tucked into my salad despite the nerves churning up my stomach.
Maybe Nan was right. I wanted to retire from modeling anyway, things with Kenji seemed to be in a perpetual stalemate, and managing the estate already took a lot of my time and attention. Would it really be so bad to claim the role of heir publicly?
It didn’t take long for me to learn that the answer to that question was an unequivocal yes.
THREE
KENJI
I stepped off the plane into a tropical paradise. Despite the first-class seat and the large amount of work I’d been able to finish overnight, eleven hours of flying had left me feeling stiff and restless. The warm air sliding under my hair and across my skin was a much-needed improvement over the cold, dark city I’d left behind.
The island nation of San Cordova was sunny and breezy. Rolling hills in the near distance were striped with regimented rows of coffee plants, and the mountains beyond were covered in the deep green of tropical trees. Seabirds swooped lazily over the water on the other side of us, and the sun’s reflection danced on the waves.
There was a sense of peace here, completely the opposite of the bustle of the city. As I moved with the other passengers through customs and into the luggage hall of the tiny, open airport, I forced myself to drop my shoulders and leave the stress of New York behind.
I was here to relax. To focus on myself. To be mindful and meditative. To anchor myself for the coming year and reflect on the previous one.
To take stock of where I was in my life, what I wanted, and what changes I needed to make.