Wildest Hearts

got left. And you've got two young sons who need you. Nathan and Richard are just babies. They need their father. Hell, I need you. Don't we matter to you? Don't you care about your family, goddamn it?

    Oliver clamped down on the raging anger and pain. If he could go back in time to that day when he had sat here talking with his father, he would not have pleaded with him. Oliver clenched one hand into a fist at his side. He would not have begged, he promised himself. He would not have sacrificed his pride in an effort to persuade Edward to do his duty by his family.

    But deep inside Oliver knew that was exactly what he would have done. If there had been even a ghost of a chance of convincing his father to stay, Oliver knew he would have gone down on his knees.

    Now, sixteen years later as he walked into the club, he faced the truth that had been with him all along. He had never begged for anything in his life. But if he could go back to the day of his twenty-first birthday knowing then what he knew now, he would have shredded his pride to ribbons in an effort to keep his father from walking out.

    I've done the best I could but there were so many times when it wasn't enough. So many times when I wasn't sure what to do. They needed you, Dad. You were their father. You were my father. And you left us behind as if we didn't matter at all.

    Oliver confronted the evidence of the weakness that still resided within himself. He tried to will it out of existence but he knew it would never disappear. He would fight it for the rest of his life.

    “Mr. Rain?” The maitre d' loomed in Oliver's path.

    “Yes.”

    “Mr. Shore is expecting you. Please follow me, sir.”

    Paul Shore was sitting at a table near the window. Like an aging gunslinger hardened from too many years of dealing with young guns, he sat facing the room, his back to the wall. There was a half-finished martini on the table in front of him. He nodded brusquely in greeting as Oliver sat down, but he did not offer his hand.

    “Can I get you something from the bar, Mr. Rain?” the waiter asked.

    Oliver glanced at Shore's martini. “No.”

    Something flickered in Shore's gaze as the waiter handed over the menus and withdrew. “Well, Rain, it's been a long time.”

    “Has it?” Oliver did not touch the menu.

    “This isn't going to be easy, is it?” Shore took a sip of his martini, as if fortifying himself.

    Oliver studied his nemesis, assessing again in the light of day the impression he'd gotten Friday night. There was no doubt about it, Shore looked a lot older than he had on the occasion when Oliver had gone to pay off the Rain debt. It was not simply a matter of the years that had passed. There was a deep weariness etched in Shore's face. There was also caution. But underlying it all, Oliver thought he detected a silent plea for a truce.

    That hint of an unvoiced appeal was all Oliver needed. It signaled a weakness he knew he could use to his own advantage.

    “There's no point wasting our time in a rehash of the past,” Oliver said.

    “Isn't there? When you get to be my age, Rain, you'll find that you spend a great deal of time rehashing the past. You look back and wonder what you might have done differently if you had the chance to do it over again.”

    “Don't tell me you have any regrets.”

    “We all have regrets. You'll know what I mean thirty years from now.”

    Oliver looked at him. “I'll keep that in mind.”

    “You do that.” Shore took another swallow from his martini and then pushed the glass to one side. “Why did you agree to meet with me today?”

    “You know the answer to that.”

    “Carson and Valerie.”

    “Yes.”

    “I realize that finding out about their intention to marry must have come as a shock to you,” Shore said. “It certainly did to me.” His gaze sharpened. “But there's something I want you to know.”

    “What's that?”

    “Carson is a fine young man. I'm proud of my son.” Shore rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I used to think he was weak.”

    “Did you?”

    “I was furious when he chose the academic world instead of my world. It was hard for me to accept the fact that he wasn't cut out for business. But he's not weak. In fact, lately I've begun to believe that he's stronger than I ever was.”

    “An interesting assessment,” Oliver said.

    Shore narrowed his eyes. “What I'm trying to make you understand is that Carson is not like me. Or you, for that