Theresa decided to make a surprise visit the day before Thanksgiving, and Remy heard them talking to her in the living room. She was finishing dishes from that morning, humming to herself and lost in thought. Callie had tried to call her several times, but she ignored her friend and even stopped taking calls from her mom. Abbey had sided with what her friend had told her, and in all her voicemails, she told Remy to think really hard about what she was doing.

The messages from her mom were harsher, though, worried she was being selfish and what this would do to two people Remy cared very much for. Stan watched her like a hawk, his touches more tender and his kisses lingering as if he wanted to tell her something but couldn’t find the words. The bags under Remy’s eyes grew bigger with each passing day as sleep eluded her, and she stayed up late in her studio, working on finishing the wire sculpture her heart was no longer in. The voices died down in the living room, and she heard steps wander upstairs. The last dish rinsed and in the drying rack, Remy wiped her hands and figured she would do a little more work before lunch. The work usually helped clear her mind, but lately, all it did was muddle her thoughts even more.

“Oh, Theresa, you scared me,” she said when she walked into her studio and found Theresa standing there. “Is there something I can help you find? I thought you went upstairs with the boys.”

“No, Remy, but I think you and I need to have a talk,” she said seriously.

“Why? Is something wrong with Louis?” she asked, rushing to Theresa’s side, but when she saw what the woman stared at, she stopped dead. “Theresa.” The painting of her and Stan making love in the garden was right there for her to see.

“I hope this does not reflect something that is currently happening beneath this roof,” Theresa said firmly. “Louis and Stan have a very fragile relationship. Anything could throw that out of balance. I have seen much progress, but I do not think Louis is ready to see his father with a woman, especially a woman who he has come to trust as the nanny and nothing more.”

Remy gulped, wringing her hands. “He doesn’t know about it.”

“I suggest you keep it that way and that you find a new place of employment.”

“What?” she snapped in disbelief.

Theresa sighed. “I have seen this time and again. A child winds up with a parent who then starts a relationship with a woman or man, and the child can’t handle it emotionally. What happens if you two don’t work out? Louis will be in the middle of any fallout.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Remy argued.

“Yes, he would, whether you want him to be or not. You have to think of the child, Remy. I understand not having any of your own makes this hard, but—”

“How dare you?” Remy seethed. “I might not have a child of my own, but I have been a nanny long enough to know how to take care of them. I always—always—put them first, especially Louis.”

“I see, and do you always leave your studio door unlocked?” Remy’s mouth worked, but all she managed was a nod. “Many of your works are quite lovely, but some of them are inappropriate for a child of his age to see. I won’t write this down, but consider this a verbal warning.” Theresa patted Remy on the shoulder as if she hadn’t just told her to give up the man she loved. “Have a good holiday, Remy.”

“You too,” she replied on reflex.

Theresa left the room, closing the door securely behind her. Remy wandered numbly towards the wire sculpture, tracing her fingers up over the face of the man with no face to the woman he held in his arms. The wings would never be finished, not now.

“Remy?” Stan asked as the door opened.

“Yeah? Theresa leave already?” she asked, not turning around yet.

“She just did. I have somewhere I have to go, a last-minute thing.”

“What’s going on?” She moved to him, and the resolve in his eyes let her cling to that last hope that he would say the words she needed to hear.

“I got a call from the hospital. The brother who was in a coma woke up a week ago and is coherent now. I’m going to see him and put this to rest once and for all,” he explained.

Don’t let him see you fall apart. He has his own issues to deal with.

“Do you want us to come with you for moral support?” she asked, but he was already shaking his head. “We’ll keep ourselves busy here. Go do what you have to do.” She rested her palm against his cheek, her chest tightening when he leaned into her touch then kissed her palm.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Stan limped down the hall, walking with his back straight and head held high. She wanted to follow him but forced herself to stay behind.

“Bye, Stan,” she whispered when the front door closed. “I’m sorry.”

Not today, but soon, she would have to leave. It would kill her to stay in this house with him and not be able to hold him or kiss him. She would never last.

She would have to leave.

* * *

The hospital was busy. Stan let the sounds of the surrounding people fill his ears so he wouldn’t let his own thoughts deter him from what he came here to do. Dr. Price told him if he ever had the chance to speak to the man who did this to him, he should take that chance to forgive the man and let the issue rest for good. Closure, that was all Stan needed to truly put the accident behind him and finally heal from the inside out.

A few people stood by the door Stan needed to go through. He kept his face down so they wouldn’t notice him, but he only managed two more steps before one of the men stepped forward.

“You—you’re that rich guy,” the man grunted.

“Stanford Wellington, yes,” Stan replied. “I’ve come to visit with James.”

“James? You came here to see James?” the man shouted, and half the floor fell silent.

The door was thrown open and an angry, gray-haired woman stalked out, planting her body in the doorway. “You bastard. How dare you show your face here?”

“I’ve come to speak with James, please,” Stan said calmly.

“He does not want to speak with you. Get out.”

“Would you mind asking him?” Stan pressed. “It’s quite important I talk to him.”

The woman yelled at him again, but a weaker voice called from inside the room. She whipped around, her gray hair flying, and Stan spotted a pale man, his face skinny and hair lank, sitting up in bed.

“Ma, let him in,” James repeated from his bed.

“You can’t possibly want to talk to him,” the woman urged, but James spotted Stan and waved for him to come in. “James, please. He killed your brother.”

“No, he didn’t,” James grunted sadly. “Ma, you have to stop this.”

“James,” Stan said and held out his hand. “Pleasure to officially meet you.”

James shook his hand weakly, smiling sadly. “They said you were in a wheelchair. I’m happy to see you walking around.”

“And I’m happy to see you are awake.”

James smiled sadly. “I am too. Why are you here, man? I would’ve thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I didn’t, but I still needed to come.” Stan glanced at James’ mom still fuming on the other side of her son’s bedside. “I needed to come to say I forgive you for the accident and I am sorry for your brother.”

“You should be,” the woman snarled, but James held up his hand.

“Ma, enough! Jesus, I was drunk and driving the boat, all right? This guy had nothing to do with the stupid shit I did. If you want to blame someone for Derek’s death, you blame me and leave him alone. Got it?”

The woman crumbled, doubling over and resting her head on James’ chest as she cried.

“I am sorry,” Stan told James again. “You’ve paid enough by losing your brother, so if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.”

James’ eyes widened in surprise. “Why would you offer to help me?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Stan told him. He smiled as a weight lifted from his shoulders. He bowed his head and backed towards the door when the woman reached out and took his hand in hers. Pain was etched in every line of her face and she opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. She walked around the bed instead and hugged Stan. He returned the gesture and left James’ family to be together.

When he returned home, all he wanted to do was find Louis and hug his son close. Later, he would find Remy and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Today was a great day, and if all went according to plan, this was the beginning of the new life Stan saw laid out before him.

* * *

“What if they don’t like me?” Louis asked again as they walked up the steps towards the Wellington’s front door. He tugged at his tiny tie and cringed.

“They’ll love you,” he assured his son, ruffling his hair.

“And if they don’t?”

“They will. Who could not love you? But,” he said, bending lower, “if you get too uncomfortable and want to leave, you just say the word and we’ll go.”

Louis nodded earnestly, his hand slipping into his pocket. The picture of Lara was tucked safely away there so she could be with them on this day, too. Louis had cried a little that morning as Stan helped him get dressed in his best clothes. This was his first major holiday without Lara, and it struck him hard. Stan needed this day to go well for Louis’ sake—and for Remy’s, who stood behind the boy. Everyone would fall in love with them both, Stan was sure of it, but the nagging he woke with in his gut that morning grew into a pain, refusing to leave him alone.

“Everyone ready?” he asked, his hand poised to knock.

“Ready,” Louis said, and Remy nodded.

Stan frowned and let his hand fall. The door flew open a second later, and Erin Wellington beamed at her son as she dragged him nearly off his feet and into her arms. “Stanford! I’m so happy to see you out of that damn chair! You look wonderful!”

“Thanks, Mom,” he replied, struggling to breathe. “Mom? You’re crushing me here.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said and set him back on his feet. She kissed his cheek loudly, and Louis laughed at the lipstick all over his face. “Well now, who do we have here?”

Stan grinned encouragingly to Louis as he stepped closer. “I’m Louis, ma’am.”

“Ma’am,” Erin repeated. She held out her hand for his. “Young man, you can call me Erin or Grandma, whatever makes you happy. Would you like to meet the rest of the family?” Louis nodded eagerly, his hand still tucked in Erin’s as they moved deeper into the house. “Oh, and nice to see you again, dear!” Erin called over her shoulder to Remy.

Stan turned to stare accusingly at Remy. She gripped the pie in her hands and grinned so wide her eyes shut. “See you again?” he asked.

“So where should I put this? The kitchen? Great,” she said and hurried past him.

“Remy!” He chased after her. “When the hell did you meet my mother?”

“Oh, now dear, don’t let it bother you,” Erin said, waving away his worries when they reached the kitchen where the rest of the family was gathered until dinnertime. “How else do you think she managed to get Bert to your house?”

He hugged his sisters in turn, glaring at Remy and his mom over their heads. “You know, I think I’m going to hang out with my sisters all night. They won’t drive me crazy.”

“I…uh, met them already too,” Remy muttered then coughed loudly into her hand.

“Sorry, brother,” Sarah, the youngest said, nudging him in the side.

“Yeah, we had a great afternoon the other day,” Susan added.

Sally was the only one who didn’t speak, her eyes locked on Louis. Stan worried that she would be a problem tonight. He grabbed her elbow gently and asked if he could speak with her in private. Louis sat at the breakfast bar, talking to Sampson, his dad.

“What’s up?” Sally asked, averting her gaze.

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“Problem?”

“Come on, Sal, I know you and Nick have been trying for a while now, and I show up with a ten-year-old son? If you’re mad, promise you’ll be mad at me and not take it out on him.”

Sally hung her head before she hugged him. “I would never be mad at either of you. I feel bad for that kid, losing his mom, and now he’s stuck with a rotten bastard like you,” she teased.

“Thanks, really.”

“You’re welcome. How’s it going? He looks happy.”

“He is. We both are. Hasn’t called me Dad yet, but we’ll get there eventually. I wake up some days thinking it was all a dream, both of them.”

“Both?” Sally asked, then smiled. “Ah, I see. Remy.”

“She’s something special,” he told her. “I’m not sure I could’ve done this without her.”

Sally’s eyes narrowed, then widened. “Holy shit, you’re in love with her.”

Stan froze as his heart pounded in his chest and his palms grew sweaty. He stared at Remy standing in the kitchen chatting with his mom, laughing with his sisters as if she was already part of the family. Sally was right, he loved that damn woman. So why wouldn’t the words come out when he needed them to?

“Please tell me you’ve told her.”

“It’s complicated,” he muttered. “I’ve got Louis to worry about.”

“But you do love her, and I have a feeling she loves you. Why haven’t you talked to the kid yet?”

“Because I’m a coward,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to say to either of them. I’m asking my nanny to be my girlfriend and move in with me as my girlfriend, which means I’m technically firing her and leaving her without a job,” he rambled. “And Louis likes her now, but if she becomes my girlfriend, I’m not sure what he’ll do about that. What if Remy and I don’t work out?”

Sally pursed her lips. “I see your point. Well, you’re going to have to say something to them both, and sooner rather than later.”

“I planned on it after the holiday before Louis goes back to school.”

“Promise me you’ll tell Remy you love her before too long? She shouldn’t have to wait to hear it.”

The floorboards creaked, and Stan glanced over at Louis, standing a few feet away. “Hey, kiddo, you all right?” he asked quickly, worried he’d overheard Sally’s words.

He nodded slowly. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“I’ll show you,” Sally said brightly. “And I can show you Stan’s old room. Would you like that? There’s a ton of model ships in there.”

“Cool.” Louis took Sally’s hand, and they walked away.

Stan stayed in the dining room until Sampson walked in carrying a stack of plates and silverware. “Here, you can get stuck with table duty with me,” he grunted.

“Could be worse,” Stan said, setting out the plates.

“Yes, yes, it could. Your mother could have tried to cook the turkey again this year.”

“I heard that, you balding moron!” Erin yelled into the dining room.

They bantered back and forth as the food was pulled out of the oven and carried into the dining room by his other two sisters, Remy, and his brothers-in-law. Sally and Louis returned in time for Sampson to cut the turkey, the golden skin glistening with juices and smelling delicious, as always, when Sampson cooked. They passed around plates and chatted through the dinner, swapping stories and each sibling telling Louis all about his dad growing up. Louis was in stitches by the time the dinner dishes were cleared away. Remy offered to start cutting up the pies in the kitchen. Stan followed her, ignoring the curious look Erin shot them both.

“I hope my family hasn’t been too much for you,” he said, leaning against the counter a few inches away from Remy. His arm ached to wrap around her waist and pull in her for a kiss, but she resisted at the last second.

“They’re louder than I’m used to, but they’re all very nice,” she replied, not looking up from the pie.

“You know, if you’re tired, we can leave.”

“Louis is having a good time. We can stay. I’m fine.”

“Remy,” he whispered, and his hand rested over hers on the counter. “Look at me and say that.”

Her breath was shaky as she closed her eyes then opened them, staring deep into his eyes. “I’m fine,” she repeated, but no smile lifted her lips and his hand slipped away from hers. She finished cutting the pie and carried it into the dining room.

He was losing her, and he was too much of a fool to tell her exactly what she needed to hear. Fear of hurting his and Louis’ relationship stopped him.

Just a little longer, please, he begged her silently. Please don’t leave me yet.