by Tawna Fenske
“I think it’s wonderful you’ve all come to this understanding,” Doctor Hooter says, teeing up the perfect segue. “I’d like to table this conversation for now and move on to something James would like to share.”
All eyes swing to me. Curious. Alert. Completely trusting.
Knowing I don’t deserve that trust makes my throat tight, and it’s hard to get the words out.
“Thank you.” I take a deep breath. I let it out slowly, flexing and unflexing my fingers. This was my ritual in the courtroom, my exercise before a closing argument designed to annihilate opposing counsel.
You can do this.
I look up and meet my siblings’ eyes. All four pairs—three sets of green, one set of brown—stare back at me.
And I freeze.
I fucking freeze.
“James?” Bree’s voice is tinged with concern. “Is everything all right?”
Mark frowns. “You’re not going to yurk, are you?”
Even Jonathan’s not smiling for once. “Hey, bro. Whatever it is, we can—”
“We have a sister.” I blurt the words without thinking, without even a whisper of the carefully crafted language I discussed with Dr. Hooter.
Bree frowns. “Um, hello?” She waves a hand in confusion. “One sister, right here.”
Mark nods. “I’ll be damned. There you are.”
Jonathan’s laughing, but also looking at me with concern. “Buddy. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Not Bree. That’s not what I meant.” I rake a hand through my hair, trying to remember how I meant to say this. To drop this bombshell with tact and sensitivity. “A secret sister. One Dad never even met.”
All four siblings stop talking. Their expressions freeze somewhere between shock and dismay. Even Dr. Hooter seems thrown off her game.
Sean finds his voice first. “You mean—someone’s come forward claiming paternity?” His brow furrows as he struggles to wrap his brain around what I’m telling them.
Jonathan scrubs a hand over his chin. “I mean, it wouldn’t be a shock, considering how Dad got around.”
Sean’s frown deepens. “Sure, but it’s kinda suspicious. The guy dies and leaves a fortune to his kids, and suddenly someone comes forward claiming to be one?”
Bree rests a hand on Mark’s arm, recognizing he’s two seconds from going all Papa Bear in defense of his own non-biological child. “Not that DNA has anything to do with family,” Bree says. “But I agree—is there some sort of proof or paternity test or—”
“We have proof.” I unclench my fists and flip open the folder on the table in front of me. With hands that aren’t too steady, I draw out the photocopies. “It’s here in Dad’s own handwriting. He acknowledged Isabella himself.”
“Isabella.” Bree repeats it like that’s the detail making this real. “That’s her name, Isabella?”
I nod and pass the copies around the table. Dr. Hooter hands the last copy to Jonathan on the far side of the room, and we sit in silence while they read the words our father scrawled so many years ago.
I, Cort Bracelyn, being of sound fucking mind, do hereby swear…
I don’t need to read the words. They’ve been burned into my brain for years. The paternity test results, though—those are new, provided by Isabella herself and sent via overnight courier just this morning.
The furrow between Bree’s brow deepens as she studies the pages. When she looks up, confusion’s etched on her face. “So, he knew about this from the very beginning,” she says. “Even before I was born.”
“Yes.” I hold my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It doesn’t take long.
“Wait.” Mark looks up from his reading. “How long have you known?”
And there it is.
I knew the question would come. I knew it, and I practiced my answer in the comfort of Dr. Hooter’s office.
But that was without four of my siblings staring at me, their expressions ranging from curiosity to uncertainty.
“Nine years, seven months, and twenty-one days.” That’s it. That’s the truth.
But my words drop like stones, emotionless and flat.
Sensing my floundering, Dr. Hooter attempts a rescue. “I think what James is trying to say is that carrying this knowledge has been extremely—”
“Wait, time out.” Bree holds up her hands in a perfect T. “You’re saying you’ve known all this time—the whole time we’ve been getting to know each other, trust each other, start a business together—that there’s this whole other sister none of us knew about?”
“Well, he knew.” Jonathan nods at me. “How’d that come to be, anyway?”
I sigh. “You know I was the executor of the will—”
“Yes, but Dad died less than three years ago,” Sean points out. “You’ve known about this for almost a decade.”
His tone isn’t accusing, it’s not even judgmental. But something inside me is bristly. Maybe it’s the sheer force of all the shit I’ve been forced to hold back, but a dam bursts inside me.
“Look, I don’t know why Dad did half the shit he did,” I snap. “I didn’t ask to be the guy who kept all the goddamn secrets. Mark, you think I enjoyed carrying around your big secret without you knowing about it? You think that was fun for me?”
He frowns and scrubs a hand over his chin. “Fuck no,” he says. “But I do think this is different. This is about all of us.”
Bree looks like she might cry. “I get that Dad sometimes asked you to keep secrets. Attorney client privilege or whatever, I get it.”
“I wasn’t his attorney,” I mutter. “That would be a conflict of interest.”
“So you weren’t legally bound to keep this from us,” Jonathan says. “And once Dad was dead—”
“I did what he asked me to do, okay?” I’m botching this badly, but I can’t remember what else I meant to say. “I protected his legacy. And Isabella’s other family—we had to consider them, too.”
We. It’s a slight slip, one I could easily explain away as a universal we if I had to.
But my siblings aren’t paying attention to my verbal slips. That’s the least of their worries.
“So Isabella’s family,” Bree says slowly. “They took priority over us?”
“No.” I fight to unclench my teeth, to keep my voice from shaking. “That wasn’t it at all.”
I haven’t even gotten to the part about Isabella being royalty, raised by a duke and a duchess, but now seems like a bad time to start down that path.
Bree’s blinking hard, struggling to maintain her composure. “I’m trying to understand, James. I know I’m a little emotional right now, but it’s hard not to feel like—” she glances at Doctor Hooter, eyes narrowing. “To feel betrayed.”
That’s probably still a judgment word, but it’s hardly my concern now. “Look, I was just carrying out Dad’s wishes. Doing what he asked me to do.”
For once, Jonathan’s not smiling. He doesn’t look mad, but he sure as fuck doesn’t look like his normal jovial self. “Not to split hairs, but Dad also asked Bree to become a stockbroker, Mark to play college baseball, and me join his offshore monohull yacht racing team.”
“Right,” Sean says, picking up the ball to run with it. “It’s not like any of us have a stellar track record of obeying the old man’s wishes.”
Except I do. Always, I’ve done what he asked of me. Blame it on eldest child syndrome or the fact that I’m just an asshole.
I see it in their eyes; that’s what they’re thinking. All of them, they’re questioning whether I can be trusted at all. To lead the organization, to lead this family.
My neck feels hot, and my shoulders are crumpling under the weight of all their stares. I open my mouth to argue, and find I have no words. Every argument I ever had in any courtroom, it’s fled from my head now. Vanished, caput, gone.
I tug at my tie, choking on my own failure.
I have to get out of here.
&nbs
p; I stand up, scrubbing my palms down the leg of my pants. My hands are itchy, my senses flooded with feelings I can’t identify.
“Meeting adjourned,” I bark.
Then I turn and run like the coward I am.
I run all the way to my cabin like a goddamn arsonist who just lit the lodge on fire. I don’t even stop when I see an unfamiliar car in front of my house. It’s a bright yellow convertible with a gray-haired woman behind the wheel, and I’m trying to register what’s happening when the passenger door swings open. Lily steps out into the sunshine, red hair fluttering in the breeze, and my heart nearly bursts in my chest.
I sprint the last fifty feet, more grateful than I’ve ever been to see anyone.
“Lily, God.” I pull her into my arms, breathing in her familiar, flowery scent. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”
There’s a movement behind us as the car pulls away, and I break the embrace long enough to look. The car gives a friendly “beep-beep,” and the driver throws us a wave as she vanishes down the driveway.
And then we’re alone.
“James, are you okay?” Lily wraps her arms around me, lending me her warmth. It’s eighty degrees out, but somehow, I’m cold. “What happened, what’s wrong?”
“Was that your grandma?” I glance back toward where the car disappeared. “I should have said hello or—”
“No, it’s okay, let’s focus on you right now.” She pulls back and puts her hands on either side of my face, staring deep into my eyes. “Tell me what happened.”
I take a deep breath. My heart is still racing, and I’m having trouble forming words. “I fucked it all up.”
My voice cracks, and I can tell she thinks I’m exaggerating. “I said everything all wrong, and when it started going sideways, I didn’t keep my cool.” That’s the biggest failure of all, or one of them. “I lost my composure, and then I ran like a big goddamn coward.”
“You’re not a coward.” Her grip on my shoulders is so intense it hurts. “You are not a coward. You are a loving, caring brother, and you are a dutiful son, and in this particular case, it’s almost impossible to be both.”
I blink hard as her words ping off my brain like pebbles. How did she know?
How could she realize that’s exactly what I need to hear? It doesn’t fix things, not even close. But I feel her words like warm putty filling the chinks in my heart.
I glance back toward the lodge, half expecting my siblings to form a posse and come after me. “I should go back.” I owe them that much, don’t I?
“Soon.” She takes my arm. “Let’s get you inside. You need to catch your breath and get a drink of water and calm down a little bit. Then we’ll make a plan, okay?”
“Okay.” How did a woman I’ve known only a few weeks become an expert on rescuing me from myself?
But she’s right, so I let her tow me to the front porch where I fumble my keys from my pocket with unsteady hands. “You’re right.” I stab at the keyhole and miss. “I need to go in there with my thoughts in order and try again.”
“That’s right.” She watches me stab at the keyhole again before she takes the keys from my hand and unlocks the door.
“Wait, why did your Grandma drop you off?”
“My truck’s in the shop,” she says. “I wanted to hear how the meeting went, and I put faith in the fact that—” Her voice wobbles a little there. “I trusted you’d be willing to bring me home later.”
It’s such a small admission, a seemingly insignificant detail. But I can see it means something to her, so it means something to me, too. “Thank you. Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” She smiles, then turns and leads me into my own kitchen.
I brace my hands on the counter, catching my breath as Lily fills two glasses with ice and tap water. She hands one to me, fingers brushing mine, and it’s another layer of healing balm on my heart.
So are the next words out of her mouth. “Your brothers and sister love you, dumbass,” she says. “Even if you’re right and you screwed up, they’ll forgive you. They’ll forgive you, and they’ll give you a chance to make things right because you’re family.”
I open my mouth to argue. To tell her there’s more, that the depths of my betrayal go so much deeper.
But I can’t get the words out. I lift the glass to my lips and swallow, mainlining water like it’s the elixir of life. It’s cool and calming, and by the time I’ve drained half the glass, some of my composure has been restored.
“I feel like I’ve let my father down.”
Until the words leave my mouth, I didn’t realize they were there. Besides betraying my siblings, I’ve failed the man who trusted me to handle this with grace and professionalism.
Lily starts to shake her head, but I cut her off. “He counted on me to handle this,” I say. “And I couldn’t do it. Not the way he’d want me to.”
Tears fill her eyes, and she shakes her head slowly. “No. That’s not true.”
“It is true. I know my father. He’d be so disappointed right now.”
She presses her lips together for a moment. “Come here. I want you to look at something.”
Lacing her fingers through mine, she tows me down the hall to the office. For a second, I think she’s planning round two with the zebra, and for another second, I think that would be okay. Sex as a distraction from life’s problems.
But she goes to the desk instead and picks up the frame. The one with my father’s arm slung around me on graduation day. The sun glints off his forehead, and the pride in his eyes makes my chest hurt.
“Look at the way he’s beaming.” She shoves the frame into my hands, forcing me to study it more closely. “Like you’re the best son he could have hoped for. That doesn’t change, not ever. Your dad is proud of you no matter what.”
I stare at the photo, at the stark navy of my cap and gown. At the way my father grips my shoulder in one powerful arm. At the way he smiles at me like I hung the goddamn moon.
I’ve spent my whole life chasing that look. That glowing pride from my father.
But it’s all a mirage.
“It’s Photoshopped.” I set the frame back on the desk and shove my hands in my pockets.
Lily blinks. “What?”
“The picture, it’s Photoshopped.” I shake my head, not sure why I’m admitting it to her now, after all this. “My father didn’t make it to my graduation. Something came up, some business meeting. He sent his assistant to take pictures, and then he had this made.”
“Holy shit.” Lily picks up the frame again and stares at the image. “I mean—the Photoshop work is amazing.”
“Yeah.” My throat creaks on the word. “Nothing but the best for my dad.”
“For you,” she says. “He gave it to you.”
I shrug, not sure if that matters. “He posted it online. Even had it up on his company’s website for a while.”
Lily sets the frame down and folds her arms over her chest. “So what if he cared about his image? He cared about you, too, or he wouldn’t have bothered with this. If he wasn’t damn proud of you, he wouldn’t have gone through the trouble at all.”
I want to believe her. So much, I want to believe it’s true. I’m still thinking this when she laces her fingers through mine. When she speaks this time, her voice has gone soft like flower petals. “I care about you.”
I nod, squeezing her hand. “I care about you, too.”
“No, I mean—” She cuts herself off with a shaky little laugh. “Talk about botching things.” Taking a deep breath, she tries again. “I care about you a lot. Way more than I expected to and, um…well, it’s taken me by surprise.” She takes another breath, eyes glinting with emotion. “That’s what I came to tell you. That I’m really super nuts about you in ways I didn’t mean to be.”
“Wow.” What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t seem to find the right words today, not a single one that matters.
Love is on the tip of my tongue, but I b
ite it back. It’s too soon, but I know for sure that’s what I’m feeling. Part of me wants to say it. Wants to just put it out there, to hell with the consequences.
But blurting shit out too fast is exactly why I feel like hell right now, so I hold myself back. “I care about you, too.” Lame, but it’s a start. “You’re like—like this huge breath of air when I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing years ago.”
Even dumber, since that would make me dead.
But tears fill her eyes, and I’m pretty sure they’re happy tears. “Good,” she whispers. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
Say it.
A voice in the back of my brain screams at me to just put it out there. To tell her I love her, to stake my claim. I may have botched things with my siblings, but maybe I can get his right.
I’m still wrestling with it when her lips find mine. Then we’re kissing, soft at first. Like we’re both afraid of breaking each other.
Then need surges through me, powerful and fierce. I slide my fingers into her hair and tip her head back, claiming her completely. Lily’s ready for it, pressing her body against me with a soft little moan.
This goes beyond craving, beyond lust. It’s an overpowering need to connect, to be completely myself with another person. I’ve never felt it before, not with anyone.
“James.” She breathes my name like a prayer, reaching up to loosen my tie. She tugs it free and tosses it aside, fingers making quick work of my shirt buttons as I slide my hands up her dress.
“You feel so damn good.” I kiss her again, letting the pleasure of it rinse away my shame, my sadness, my disappointment in myself.
She arches against me, needing this as much as I do. Or maybe it’s my need she’s sensing, her inner rescuer bubbling to the surface. Her hands drop to my fly, and she draws back to smile up at me. “Let me make you feel better?”
I swallow back the lump in my throat. “You already have.”
She laughs and sinks to her knees. “Oh, I have a few more tricks up my—”
“Stop!” The boom of my father’s voice cracks the moment like lightning.
I stagger back, grabbing the edge of the desk as Lily scrambles to her feet. I reach out to help her, but it’s too late.