Chapter 1: Version One-Point-Oh

1^st April 2014

I have no idea how I managed to keep my hand steady enough not to spill a three-thousand-pound bottle of whisky all over the table, but I poured three tasting measures into the crystal snifters on the silver tray in front of me.

My hand still shook as I set the bottle on the table, and then picked up one of the glasses and handed it to Pete. Then I picked up another and gave it to Will.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

I nodded, then picked up the final glass.

I looked at Pete, then at Will. Then all three of us raised our glasses to eye level.

I remembered calling the liquid ‘golden’ that night I made Clarissa’s first time special, but now...

I’d seen many whiskies since then, and this was darker than most I’d come across—the colour of dark, polished wood, with a hint of deep red where the light caught it. And it was thick—almost like an oil rather than ‘the water of life.’

I glanced at Will. He smiled and nodded, then brought the glass to his nose. I watched him go through the routine. The sniff. The swirl. Another sniff. Eyes closed. Breathing deep.

He opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow at me.

I smiled. And then Will watched me go through the same ritual.

Then it was time.

I looked at Pete, arched an eyebrow and held my glass up to him. He’d quietly gone through his own ritual, but he smiled and tapped his glass against mine. Then I turned to Will and held my glass up to him.

He nodded and gently tapped my glass.

“Ben and Andy,” he said.

I nodded.

“Absent Friends,” Pete said. I glanced at him, then looked back at Will.

Then I looked over at Vicky. She smiled.

“For dad,” I said.

Vicky nodded.

Then I closed my eyes and took my first sip.

Eighteen years in the cask. Seven years on a dusty shelf in a small shop in South Wales. And another seven years in my father’s drinks cabinet.

It was already seven years older than it should have been when the cork was finally removed. Seven years older than it should have been when it finally passed human lips. And those lips shouldn’t have been mine.

But they were. And nothing was going to change that.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard a voice.

“How is it, Son? Tell me it was worth the wait.”

With my eyes still closed, I nodded, swallowed and took a deep breath.

It was, Dad. It really was.

Time. Grief. Memory. They all softened as the warmth washed over me.

It may have been the best thing I’d ever tasted.

Because it tasted like peace.

And love.

It was a strange feeling. I’d spent so long trying to live up to Dad’s expectations that I wasn’t entirely sure who I’d be without that weight on my shoulders.

For years, I’d thought that Clarissa’s death had been the thing that broke me. And it had. God, it had. But the damage had started long before that.

When Mum and Dad died, I’d lost more than my parents. I’d lost the man who was supposed to guide me into adulthood. The man I was supposed to learn from. The man I wanted to become.

By the summer of twenty-ten, I was eighteen, scared, confused and still refusing to accept that they were gone. I’d spent years putting on a brave face. Trying to be the White Knight everyone accused me of being. Trying to be a Good Man. Interfering whenever I saw something I thought was wrong. Trying to behave the way I imagined Dad would have wanted me to.

Hell, I didn’t even remember intervening on Lana’s behalf that May afternoon until she reminded me because it was just something I did. Something I’d always done.

And that August night, when I stepped out of the shadows to help Clarissa...

Was that courage? Altruism? Or was I being reckless again?

Jake Rogers could have beaten the crap out of me. I knew that. Yet I’d stepped forward anyway.

But what if I hadn’t?

Would Clarissa still be alive? I don’t know. I’d never know. But perhaps I was finally ready to accept that not every question needed an answer. After all, if I hadn’t helped her, we’d never have become friends. She’d never have taken me to Mum and Dad’s graves and forced me to confront the grief I’d spent so long pretending wasn’t there.

And everything that followed...

Losing her. Running away to America. Trying to bury the pain in one meaningless encounter after another. Vanessa. Paige. Hannah. Carly. So many mistakes. So much heartache. And not just mine—I’d hurt people. I knew that.

But there had been good things, too. Wonderful things. Friends who stood by me even when I didn’t deserve it. People who believed in me when I’d stopped believing in myself. Carly, her music, and the future that lay ahead of her. A future I still got to be a part of.

And now there was Lana.

God, I loved that girl.

I hoped she’d be beside me for the rest of my life. And I knew I couldn’t have reached this moment without her love, her patience, and our promise to be unguarded.

But there was more to it than that.

For seven years, I’d carried the weight of being Ben’s Boy. I’d convinced myself that everyone who’d known Dad expected me to become just like him. And I’d been terrified of disappointing them.

Of disappointing him.

I thought of the words carved into Mum and Dad’s headstone. “We pray you see us now and are proud of what we’ve become, for what we’ve become is because of your example & love. To live in the hearts of those you love is to never die.”

I’d read those words so many times. But only now, with the warmth of Dad’s whisky spreading through me, did I feel as though I truly understood them.

I didn’t have to become Dad.

I could be his son. I could live by the example he’d set, take everything he’d taught me and make something of my own life.

And I had.

I wasn’t perfect. I was a long way from perfect. I was only twenty-one, for God’s sake.

But I was finally comfortable with the man I’d become. Confident in my own skin. Confident in my principles. And, for the first time, I genuinely believed Mum and Dad would be proud of me.

I still had so much I wanted to do. So much I wanted to achieve. My whole life was ahead of me, but perhaps, after so long in development hell, I was finally version one-point-oh of Paul Robertson. The first version ready for release to market, complete with bugs I hadn’t discovered yet and plenty of upgrades still to come.

That thought made me smile.

I was ready.

Ready to find out what came next.

I opened my eyes and looked at Will.

“Worth the wait?” I said.

He smiled. “Oh, yes. Its reputation is well deserved.”

I looked at Pete and arched an eyebrow. He smiled, raised the glass and took another sip. That was answer enough.

I looked around at everyone else gathered around the table. So many faces. So many friends. So many members of my family. My chosen family.

“Ollie,” I said.

“Aye?”

“Can you make sure that everyone who wants a taste gets one?”

“Aye, of course. Nay bother.”

I smiled. “But make sure you try it yourself first. Believe me, it’s worth it.”

“I could tell,” he replied. “I think we all could.”

I nodded, then looked around the room again. “Please don’t feel you have to try it just because of what it is or what it represents. There are alternatives in the cabinet, and, as I’m sure we’re all aware, Champagne is waiting for us downstairs too. But, also, please don’t turn it down because you think it’s too expensive, or you don’t feel worthy of it, or something ridiculous. If you’re in this room, I think you’re worthy.” I turned to Will. “When do we need to be downstairs?”