“What if she is your sister?”
His jaw firms, and he kisses my hand.
“When you stormed out, I got my purse, and we exchanged business cards. Just in case.” He moves to speak, to chastise me, but I rush my words so he can’t. “I had to. At the very least, if she is your sister, you’ll want to know, right?”
“Of course. I just… I can’t believe it. Why wouldn’t I know of her existence, but she knew of mine?”
“She said your mother was pregnant with another man’s child when she left you.”
He snorts. “What else?”
“I didn’t get much, but she said she knows everything about you.”
“Yeah, I’ll just bet. How much money my company brings in…”
I clear my throat. “I didn’t get that impression. She seemed genuine. Made it sound like she’d been watching you, or at the very least following your life, for a long time. I don’t know… It’s worth investigating.”
“You got her card? We know their names, Greta and Brett Tinsley. I’ll have my security officer look into her first thing tomorrow.”
“That’s a good plan.” I smile. “It would be nice to find out you have a sister.”
He sighs and looks out the window once more. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know…maybe.”
“Family is everything,” I whisper.
Grant squeezes my hand. “Not mine. Though the one I one day want to make with you…yes. That will be the day family is everything.”
A rush of happiness coated in this dreary mood has me blinking back the tears and focusing on the road.
I love you.
In my head the words are so clear, but now is not the time to share them.
A full week passes before Grant brings up his possible sister. He tosses his jacket on his boring couch, and it instantly disappears, the black blazer on the black couch.
He moves mindlessly into the kitchen, releasing the buttons at his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up his forearms. I can hear him pulling out wineglasses and the distinct sound of him searching through the bottles in his wine fridge.
“White or red tonight?”
“I’m feeling red this evening. There was a chill in the air today.”
I go over to my two bags, both of which he didn’t utter a word about. Which is awesome because I pull out some of the loot I bought him at the thrift store. Four new throw pillows, two a sunshine yellow, two a muted yellow, gray, and white. The multicolored ones have a pattern of arrows running in vertical lines. As I suspected, they look fantastic on his pristine couch, but they also add a touch of color. I have a bunch more colors to add before I’m done.
“What does a chill in the air have to do with red versus white wine?” he hollers from the other room.
“When it’s warm out, I prefer white. It’s cool and refreshing. If it’s colder out, a warm red just feels better going down the throat and into the tummy.”
Grant enters the room as I’m arranging the pillows. He hands me a glass of red. I toast his glass, but he looks away.
“Wait!”
He turns around abruptly as if I’d just screamed. I mean, I kind of did.
“You have to look me in the eye when you ‘cheers’ me before sipping, or you’ll have seven years of bad sex.”
He chuckles and eases into the white leather lounge chair about to lift the glass to his lips.
I frown.
“You know that’s absurd, don’t you?”
“You want to risk it?”
His eyes shift to half-mast. “Touché,” he says before holding out his glass.
I touch the edge and listen to it sing and then lift it to my lips while my eyes are focused on him. “You were about to tell me what you found out about Greta Tinsley?” I turn for my bag and pull out a chenille throw in a masculine hound’s-tooth print of red and black. Once I’ve shaken it out, I lay it over the back, folded neatly but lengthways so that it adds some color to the boring couch.
Grant watches me work but doesn’t comment.
“Greta?” I urge, going back to my bag and riffling through it to find yellow, red, and white vases in varying sizes and a gray, leaf-shaped bowl.
“Oh, well, her birth certificate was verified. She is my mother’s daughter.”
“And how can they confirm that?” I place the leaf-shaped bowl in the center of the glass table, dig through my bag, and pull out a variety of circular decorative balls. A couple of them are like twine, another speckled black glass, a mirrored one, and a couple yellow paisley ones to offset the throws.
“Social security numbers match both mine and Greta’s birth certificates for the birth mother of record. The father’s name on her birth certificate was blank.”
“Either way, she’s your sister,” I confirm, grabbing the three vases and putting them on one corner of the boring, plain white marble fireplace mantle that matches the white boring walls. I adjust them until they are in size order, the tallest being farthest from the edge.
“Appears so.” He takes a long sip of his wine as I go back to my other bag and dig through to find the stained-glass candle holder I had at home. I was sure it would look way better at his place. It’s a variety of red tones and absolutely stunning. I set it on the other side of the mantle, back up, and survey my work.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, trying not to make a big deal out of it, even though it has to be destroying him on the inside.
Back to my bag, I pull out the last item I brought to liven up the place, at least for now. It’s a photo of the two of us, taken at the charity event we first attended. Technically, our first date. Also, the first night we slept together. Even though we just slept.
A photo of us appeared in the Sunday newspaper, and one of the yogis brought it to my attention. Me being a dork, I contacted the newspaper, hunted down the reporter, and had him send me the picture. He did, and now we both have one. Of course, he doesn’t know that, but I like knowing he has a piece of me in his home. A piece of us.
“I don’t know. Can you sit down? Besides, what are you doing?” He finally looks at the pillows, the coffee table, and the mantle. He stands and walks over to where I’d just set the picture of us in the center of the mantle, the lights above providing the perfect illumination.
“Do you like it?” I hold my hands at heart center, hoping and praying I haven’t overstepped his boundaries.
“Like?” His voice is low and gravely.
“Yeah.”
He turns around with a smile. “I fuckin’ love it.” He sets his glass on the coffee table and pulls me into his arms, where he kisses me breathless. “Feel free to spruce up the entire place.”
“You mean you noticed you have no color in your life?” I chuckle and trace a line with my finger, starting at his forehead and along the bridge of his nose to his lips.
“Not until you showed up, no. Now, I’ve got all the color I need…in you.”
I grin and kiss him silly, giving back as good as I get. When I pull away, I hold on to his face. “Really, though, what are you going to do about Greta?”
“Call her into my office. Talk to her. Hell, I’m not sure how to go about this.”
“Are you going to tell your father?”
“Fuck no!” he says harshly.
“Okay, well, whatever you need from me, I’m there. If you’d like me to sit in, I’d be happy to. If you want to meet her out, maybe for a meal, or have her over here, and I’ll cook. Whatever you want to do.”
“You would do all that for me?” he whispers, his eyes misting over as he swallows.
“I’d do anything for you. I love…”
“You love?” He cocks an eyebrow.
I lick my lips and chance a glance at the now pretty mantle.
He moves my chin with his thumb. “Oh no, you don’t. Eyes on me. You love what, lamb?”
“These pillows?”
He grins.
“The centerpiece?”
Grant tips his he
ad sexily, lasering me with his gaze. “I don’t think that’s what you were going to say,” he teases.
“The mantle with the sexy picture of me and my man?”
He hums. “It is awesome, I will admit.” He taps against my mouth with one finger. “However, I do not believe that was what you were going to say. Just tell me…” he murmurs against my lips, his tone almost pleading.
“I love….”
“Yes. You love…” he reiterates.
“Grant.” I squirm in his arms. “I’m afraid,” I whisper against his mouth, my eyes closed so I don’t have to look into his eyes.
What if he doesn’t love me back?
“Be brave, lamb. I’m right here with you. I won’t let you down.”
His words pierce the fear inside my soul, and I open my eyes. I focus on his sapphire gaze, eyes I could happily swim in for days on end.
“I love you.”
He smiles huge. I’m talking super-duper ginormously wide. His entire face lights up as he runs his hands down my back, over my ass, and lifts me up so I have to circle my legs around him, and we’re nose-to-nose.
“I’ve been dying to hear you say those words,” he admits dreamily, as if I’d stunned him.
“Why?” I nuzzle his nose and kiss the tip.
“Can’t you see, Luna? I’ve been in love with you since you uttered your name the very first time I laid eyes on you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Meditation is the cornerstone of bringing a mental and physical balance to your crown chakra. Taking a meditation class can help you feel more at peace, open-minded, better rested, and less stressed.
GRANT
I have a sister. A flesh-and-blood living relative beyond my narcissistic tyrant of a father. The thought of having actual family shreds my insides. She may have been pretty, seemingly nice, but I don’t know much about her. There’s also the little issue of my mother. Is she around? Does she live in the area? The mere inkling of that particular possibility has my already tender stomach tightening like a vice. I flip the business card for Greta Tinsley over and over in my hand, reading it for the hundredth time.
Greta Tinsley
Pediatric Occupational Therapist
UC Davis
My sister works with children as an occupational therapist. A woman like that would have her own money, and there hasn’t been any further request for contact or money of any kind. Neither Brett nor Greta have reached out to me in the past week since our random meeting at the Thai restaurant.
Was it even random, or do they know what my usual haunts are?
Did they follow us there?
I shake my head. If I remember correctly, they were already seated when we walked in. God, I hate that I’m so suspicious, but my father trained me to be.
Everyone wants something out of you, son. Never trust anyone. People are always looking for an angle.
What I should have been asking my father back then was what was his angle? Training a tyrant. His replacement in the Winters Group. A man who could be as ruthless as he is. Only, I don’t think I’ve succumbed to his teachings. At least not completely. And now, Luna’s influence is making sure of that.
Thinking of my beautiful redheaded fairy princess, I rustle up the courage to pick up the phone and dial Greta’s number. It rings several times before I receive her voicemail.
I consider hanging up but decide it might be best to force her to reach out to me directly.
“Greta, this is Grant Winters. I’ve confirmed the information you stated is correct. You are my sister.” My voice cracks, and I clear it. “If you’d like to meet up to discuss, I have many questions I hope you can answer. I will say, I’m sorry I was rude the other day. I’d like to make it up to you with coffee or a meal of your choosing. Please contact me if you are interested. I look forward to hearing from you.”
With nothing left to say, I hang up, leaving the ball in her court.
A restless energy sizzles at the tips of my fingers and toes, so I pull out my cell phone and text Luna.
It’s done.
She’ll know what I mean when she sees the message. I glance at the clock and figure she should be between classes right now.
Her message pops up right away.
Did you talk to her? Set up a time to meet? Are you okay?
I smile and inhale a full breath. My lamb is worried about me. It’s a new feeling to know that someone else genuinely cares about my feelings and how I’m faring with contacting my estranged half sister. It sure makes the days easier to face, and the nights… Well, the nights are fantastic. Falling asleep next to her is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It’s chocolate-covered strawberries and whipped cream all together wrapped in the most comfortable bed in existence. When I figure out a way to get her to move in with me, we’re taking her bed. Period. No discussion necessary. I answer her message before glancing back out at the skyline. I really do have an incredible view, but nothing is as stunning as Luna’s face and looking into her blue eyes.
Left a voicemail.
Good. Ball’s in her court. Come to the studio dressed to take a class. Tonight, we’re doing a special meditation class. I think you could use it.
Already worked out today. Dinner? Pasta. Pizza. Sushi.
Fucking meditation. She’s crazy if she thinks I’m going to meditate. Instead, I’ll appeal to her stomach. It’s usually the easiest way to get her to do what I want. Offer to feed her, and she falls all over herself ready to eat.
Good thing meditation is a workout for your MIND and not your BODY. And it’s my turn. Stop trying to distract me with food.
Before I can respond, another bubble pops up.
Pizza. Definitely pizza AFTER meditation.
Damn it. Why does she have to be so damn cute? I can never deny her. I respond that I’ll meet her there at six p.m. and head over to my home across the office to change clothes and grab a suit for tomorrow.
Luna isn’t at the front desk when I arrive, so I use my key card to get in and walk down the hallway. The artwork is truly incredible. It’s going to be rough knowing it will all be demolished when we rebuild the towers. I just hope Brando can come up with something that not only saves my girlfriend’s business location but also saves my ass with my girlfriend. I love her too much to see her hurt, and I know her legacy means the world to her.
As I’m thinking of my girl, she pokes her head out the last door at the end of the hallway.
“There you are,” I say.
She waves and smiles.
I’d walk a thousand miles if her smiling face was at the end of the journey.
“I’m glad you’re early.” She lifts her hands in front of her in a placating gesture. “Okay, this had to happen, and I’m sorry if you feel as though I’m dumping this on you, but she’s my best friend in the whole wide world, and I can’t bear to have the two of you not friendly. You both mean so much to me.”
I frown, and my hackles rise. “Spit it out, lamb.”
She tilts her head and worries her bottom lip. “Dara is the meditation teacher. But don’t worry, I’ve already talked to her and smoothed the way. Trust me on this. Please?” She lays her hands against my chest and looks up at me pleadingly.
I curl a hand around her nape. “I trust you with anything. I just hope you’re right and this goes as you wish.”
She grins, lifts up on her toes, and kisses me hard but, unfortunately, closed-mouthed. She pulls away before I have the chance to deepen the kiss. Her hand wraps around mine, and she leads me inside.
There’s a couple bickering to my right, and I realize one of them is Trent Fox. Second time I’m seeing him at the studio. A thrill of excitement at seeing my favorite baseball player once again fills my chest. I squeeze Luna’s hand and dip my head to hers.
“I knew you knew Trent from when I took your class, but you really know Trent Fox. Why are we not doing dinner with him?” I’m absolutely thrilled with the possibility that I could break bread w
ith the celebrity.
Luna chuckles. “I had no idea you were so interested in baseball.”
I level a playful glare at her. “Lamb, most men are. Especially if you live in the Bay Area. You’re either a Ports fan or a Stingers fan. Even though I work in the city, I’m all about the Oakland Ports.”
“Huh. You just didn’t seem like the sports type. I haven’t watched any baseball games with you.”
I chuckle. “No, because I’ve been spending all of my free time with you. When I’m in your presence, I don’t want to be distracted by my favorite sport.”
She frowns. “I like sports. I don’t know much about them, but you could teach me.”
“Deal.” I wink.
“At the very least, I can surely share my friends with you.” She grabs my hand and tugs me over to the couple.
Trent has his big paw on a tiny blond woman’s rounded belly. “I mean it, gumdrop. No more vinyasa flow for you. I’m talking to Luna and Mila. You’re hitting five months. No more. Promise me.”
The pretty blonde purses her bright-red lips. Add her dark eyes and she’s a doppelganger to music artist Gwen Stefani. She moves her hands to her hips. “I’m fine, Trent. Pregnant, not sick. Remember!” She groans and then turns her head, noticing us. “Hey, Luna. Can you talk some sense into this brute? He thinks I should stop doing Vin Flow because I’ve hit the five-month mark with our daughter.”
Luna gasps. “Sweet Shiva! You’re having a girl!” She claps and then rushes to hug the blonde.
“Hey, man, I remember you.” Trent holds out his hand, and I shake it, smiling. “We took a class together not long ago. How goes it?”
“Good, good. Grant Winters. I’m Luna’s boyfriend.”
Enlightened End (Lotus House Book 7) Page 17