“Son. To what do I owe this pleasure?” My father stands from behind his desk in his study and walks over to the sideboard. He pours himself a whiskey neat. “Drink?”

“Yes.” I’m going to need it.

When he’s made our drinks and hands me one, he sits down in one of the red velvet, high-backed chairs near the fire he has going. The room is draped in luxury and opulence. Floor-to-ceiling antique eighteenth-century bookcases span half the room, and the expensive art he’s collected over the years covers the rest. He doesn’t even like art. He obtained the pieces to save face with his rich buddies. Those pictures should be in museums for the world to see, not collecting dust in a stuffy old man’s office, rarely to be seen by anyone outside of the one percenters he rolls with.

I sit in the chair opposite him and try my best to get my immediate anger at even seeing him under control.

Follow what Luna said. Say your piece. Get your answers, and go back home to her.

I take a full breath in and let it out before speaking like Luna taught me. “Father, I’ve met Greta Tinsley.”

My father’s face doesn’t change or reveal even a hint of recognition. “Should I know this name?”

“Yes. She’s my sister.”

This time, Grant Senior’s eyes flare, but they do so with anger, not remorse. He moves his drink to the side table and leans forward, a filthy scowl marring his face. “Did that bastard child try to blackmail you by claiming to be your sister and having some kind of right to our fortune?” he growls.

I shake my head and calmly take a sip of my whiskey, allowing it to burn a fiery trail down my throat and warm my gut. “No. Not at all. Apparently, she’s known of me for a long time. We ran into each other at a restaurant.”

“Oh, she’d like you to think that. They’ve all got angles, son, and they are never genuine.”

“You would think so. And at first, I did as well, but I had my team investigate her. And do you know what they found out?”

He grabs his drink and takes a healthy slug. I wait for him to finish the drink. “Well, don’t sit on it, boy. Spit it out. What did they find?”

“She is indeed my sister. Gretchen Winters is her mother.”

On the mention of that name, his face turns red and the scowl deepens. “That cheating slut! She was never supposed to contact you. I warned her. If she did, I’d ruin her and the lives of her manwhore and her bastard child.” He stands up, walks over to the sideboard, and pours himself another drink. This time, he takes a huge glug.

“Turns out, Greta Tinsley was suffering from a rare disease. One for which she needs a bone marrow transplant.”

My father grunts. “And now we’re getting somewhere. This being the reason why they contacted you. To get your marrow! Blood-sucking vampires! I hope you told them to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine and to drop dead!” he hollers and paces the room.

“No, I didn’t. I met with Greta and found her to be a lovely woman.”

“Of course they’re going to make you think that, son!” He sneers. “They want something from you!”

I shake my head and sip my drink. “Actually, at first, Greta didn’t even tell me about her disease. Luna found out about it accidentally and informed me.”

He huffs. “You think that because you’re too soft. You always have been, even as much as I’ve pushed to toughen you up. What you don’t see, son, is that they planned every last second of you coming into contact with them. I’ll bet that bitch Gretchen was the mastermind behind it too.”

“Again, you’d be wrong. And I was tested to find out if I was a bone marrow match for Greta.”

My father sighs and sits back down in his chair. “Let me guess… You were a match.” He rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Yes.” I grin, loving that he thinks he’s laying into me when I haven’t even dropped the bomb on him. This game of cat and mouse is taking the burn off the knowledge I now know to be true.

“Please tell me you’re not going to give her a goddamned thing.”

I shake my head. “Actually, I’ve already donated. I underwent the procedure last week. Greta has received the transplant, and we’ll know if her body accepts my marrow and starts creating white and red blood cells to fight her disease very soon.” I smile wide.

“Look at your face. You’re pleased with yourself. Son, you’ve made a grave mistake, but I’ll clean it up. I’ll wipe the floor with them.”

“No. You will do no such thing,” I say with a raised voice and returning anger.

He frowns. “Don’t you dare tell me what I can and cannot do. I am your father. The patriarch of the Winters name. I will protect you even if you won’t protect yourself! These people are bottom feeders. The scum of the earth. A bastard child and an unfaithful woman.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me my mother wrote me letters?”

He snorts. “She didn’t. Left you, left me, and took her bastard child with her.”

“Lie!” I roar and slam the tumbler down on the table, the contents sloshing outside of the glass and spilling all over the wood.

My father glances at the drink and then back up at me, his eyes turning to daggers. “What did you say to me?”

“You’re a liar and a coward! My mother didn’t leave you. You cast her away with threats of ruining her life and the life of her unborn baby. You told her if she ever approached me, you’d set a plan into place that would destroy her and Greta as well as the man you thought she was cheating on you with. Which, by the way, she never did!”

He laughs dryly. “I caught them kissing in this very house!”

“That she did admit. And I understand if you couldn’t trust her anymore, but you did not have to cast her and your own child out the door with nothing. You could have divorced her and allowed me to still have a mother! I prayed for years, Father…years that she would come home.”

I stand and rub at the back of my neck. “And you forced her to go, leaving me without a mother for my entire life!”

“She didn’t deserve you. And the child she carried was proof of her infidelity. What would you have me do? Raise another man’s child as if it were my own, a daily reminder of her treachery?” he grates through his teeth before sucking back more whiskey.

“You are so fucking blind. I had the test done to see if I was a match for her marrow. And you know what they told me…oh, patriarch, seer of all things? They told me Greta Tinsley and I are an exact match because we are siblings.”

“Of course you are.”

“Full-blooded siblings, Father! Thirty-year-old Greta Tinsley is your biological daughter. Her four-year-old son, Gavin, and her six-month-old daughter, Gabriella, are your grandchildren, and you’re never going to know them.”

“It’s part of their lies! They are telling you a tale,” he blusters and stands to go fill his drink once more. Fucking old man has turned into an alcoholic.

“No. It’s the truth. The tests have been done. I have a copy right here.” I pull out the second, more conclusive DNA test I had run by the hospital. “This is the DNA test I personally had done. It’s all there, in black and white. Greta is your daughter and my sister. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a family to get to know, without you.”

“Son…this can’t be true!” he cries out, the information apparently starting to seep in.

“It is the truth. And so is the fact that you are going to die old and alone with no family around you. I’m going to talk to the board of directors on Monday. Either you resign from the board, or I will resign as CEO of the company. You can train a replacement.”

“Son…” He gasps. “I have built Winters Group to be the global leader it is. You and this company are my legacy, my father’s legacy, your grandfather’s legacy…”

“Yes, and I will continue to run it as I see fit, but only if you remove yourself from it. Otherwise, I’ll take my shares and sell to the highest bidder, and someone else will be the second-largest investor in the company and you’ll have to answer to them. Though I think if I tell the board and the current investors that it’s either you or me, they’ll choose me. I’m willing to risk it either way. Are you?”

“You can’t do this!” he screams. “You’re my son! I’ve taught you everything you know!”

“This is true. However, there is a part of me you haven’t been able to touch. My heart. And it’s owned by Luna, Greta, and my new family. Now if you will excuse me…I need to spend some time with the woman who gave me life and get to know her.”

“You’re choosing a woman you barely know over me!” He grabs at his heart, and his form cants to the side, where he catches himself on the back of the chair, his drink spilling down the red velvet.

“Ohh…that’s gonna leave a stain. The choice is yours. Resign from the board, keep your shares, and you stay rich in the knowledge that I’m a good leader and will take the company where it’s meant to go. Play with your trophy wife; take up backgammon and traveling for all I care. Just do it away from me and my family.” I start walking toward the door. “Oh, and by the way, Luna and I are getting married three months from now. You’re not invited.”

“Grant! Wait…son! You can’t do this. You don’t want to do this! I’m your father!” he hollers, but I keep walking until I’m out the front door of my childhood home and into my Aston Martin on my way to see my fiancée, who’s waiting for me.

* * *

The moment I enter my apartment, Luna is rushing to me, arms open wide. She slams her body into mine in a fierce hug. She squeezes me hard before pulling back, cupping my cheeks, and staring into my eyes.

“Are you okay?”

I smile wide and wrap my arms loosely around her waist. “Yeah, lamb. I am. More than okay. I’m free.”

“Free?”

“Yep. Free of his reign, the power he holds over me.”

“Wow. That sounds life changing.” She blinks prettily, but her focus is all on me. The house could be burning down around us, and her entire focus would be on me.

“I gave him an ultimatum.”

Her eyes seem to widen. “Really?”

“He resigns from the board of directors, or I resign from Winters Group as the CEO and sell my shares in the company to the highest bidder.”

Her mouth drops open. “No, you didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did.”

“What did he say?”

“He was angry, of course. Livid. I didn’t react to it. I breathed calmly like you said and told the truth.”

“The whole truth?” She pets my lip with her thumb.

“Yeah.” I let out a breath of air. “Everything. About Greta being his daughter, about how we are getting married, and he isn’t invited…”

She frowns, and her entire face turns sad. It’s like kicking a puppy. She’s so very expressive. I always know where I stand with her and how she feels about something. “Are you sure about that?”

I curl my hand around her cheek and tilt her chin with my thumb. “Positive. He’s not going to sour the most important day of our lives. Speaking of sour… How’s that sweet and sour pork you’re making for dinner? It smells wonderful.”

As if I flipped a switch, her face lights up, and she bounces in place. “It’s going to be awesome, and they’ll be here soon! I also made some homemade macaroni and cheese for the kids. Greta says they love mac and cheese.” She claps. “I can’t wait to meet my niece and nephew! Eeek! It’s so exciting!”

As if on cue, the buzzer to my door rings. I would have liked to have them over to the loft above the bakery, but it’s far too small. I thought about taking them out but figured it would have been awkward since we’re trying to get to know one another and meeting the kids for the first time.

I head to the door and pull it open. Greta smiles huge when she sees me and rushes into my arms. Her head lands on my chest.

Behind her, I find Brett, who has a diaper bag in one hand and a child carrier in the other. Next to him is Gretchen, holding the hand of a dapper little boy who is the spitting image of me at that age. Wild layers of brown hair and dark-blue eyes. He’s clinging to his grandmother’s leg and assessing me.

I get down on my haunches and smile at the boy. “Hey there, little guy. I’m your Uncle Grant.”

“Yeah, I know. Mommy tolded me.”

“And that pretty redhead behind me is your Aunt Luna. We’d love to have you come in and spend time with us. Would that be all right?”

“I have presents!” Luna squeals behind me.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Of course you do.”

“One for every birthday we missed!” she adds, her voice hitting mass volume with her exuberance.

Gavin’s eyes bug out a bit. “Presents. For me and Sissy?”

“Looks like it, bud. You want to come in and check it out?”

He taps his mouth the same way I do when I’m thinking hard on something before he smiles. “Okay!” And then he runs in toward Luna.

“Hello, son. Um, I mean, Grant.” My mother holds out her hand in greeting.

I lick my lips, look down at her hand, clasp it, and tug her toward my chest. I let her go, and she wraps her arms around me, hugging me close. Her body trembles in my arms. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hug you.” Her voice is coated in heartache.

I pet her hair, close my eyes, and breathe in her fresh linen scent. It whirls around my senses, reminding me of summer long ago, laughter, and a whole lot of love. Everything I’d forgotten over the years, having been so young when I lost her.

“Me too, Mom. Me too.”

She chokes on a sob when I call her Mom.

“Hey, you two, the kids are about to open their presents. Something you didn’t need to do, by the way!” Her tone is conciliatory but playful too.

I hook my arm over my mother’s shoulder and lead her into the living room, where Gavin is tearing through brightly wrapped packages.

“I have zero control over my woman. She owns my soul, and if she wants to buy our niece and nephew presents, far be it from me to stop her.”

Greta rolls her eyes, and it looks exactly like how my father did earlier in the day. A prick of pain pierces my heart, but I look around the room and let the new love of family fill it up and make me whole again.

“We have something for the two of you as well,” Greta announces, handing Luna a package.

Luna sits on the couch and pats the side next to her. I let my mother go and sit down next to her. “What have we got?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to open it?” she offers, but I can tell she’s dying to open it herself.

“No, lamb, you go on ahead.”

She lifts her shoulders to her ears and squeaks adorably. I’m going to have to buy her gifts more often because I love hearing the multitude of excited sounds she makes when she’s happy.

When the paper is torn apart and the box lid lifted, she pulls out two silver framed photos. The first one is a picture of Brett, Greta, Gavin, and little Gabriella in her mom’s arms. Etched into the bottom of the frame it says The Tinsleys, but it’s the next frame that puts a vise lock on my throat, making it instantly dry and scratchy. In the next silver frame is a picture of just Gavin holding his baby sister, Gabriella. On the top of the frame it says Uncle Grant & Aunt Luna and the bottom says We love you. Gavin & Gaby.

Luna sniffs and pets the picture over her title of Aunt Luna and then brings it up to her chest as if she’s hugging it. “We love it. Don’t we love it, Grant?”

“Yeah, awesome gift. Thank you.”

Luna pops up, taking the frames over to the mantle. “For now, we’re going to set them here. Then, when we get our new home, we’ll put it back above the fireplace so we can see them every day.”

I stand up and hug my sister and then shake Brett’s hand. “You want a beer, brother?” I ask.

Brett squeezes my hand and claps me on the shoulder. “Yeah, brother, I do.”

I wink at him and then find out what everyone wants. Gaby is sleeping, and Gavin is already playing trucks on the table with his new toys.

As I enter the kitchen, Greta follows me.

“So I met with my hematologist today, and the good news is, he said my body is not rejecting your marrow. He thinks it’s working, but we need to wait a little longer to really tell if my red and white blood cells are regenerating. With the last few rounds of blood transfusions, you can’t really tell, but since I’m having no side effects suggesting rejection, we’re on a positive path.”

I smile wide and lean into the counter. “That’s great, Greta. Good news. A definite positive first step.”

“Yes, it is.”

I turn around and pour a glass of water and hand it to her. Then I go back and get a beer for Brett and pass it to her to give to her man. After she takes it, I pour Luna, Mother, and myself a glass of Rombauer Zinfandel and bring it out to them.

“A toast,” Luna says and looks pointedly to me.

“To family. There’s nothing more important,” I say.

“Hear, hear!” Brett says.

“Absolutely,” Gretchen agrees.

“Yay!” Luna cheers, cuddling into my side.

“To my beautiful family. To Greta and Brett, my son, Grant, and soon-to-be daughter-in-law, Luna, and my lovely grandchildren…I love you all.”

The five of us raise our glasses to each other, and Luna and I look one another right in the eye and sip at the same time, smiling.

After dinner, I find myself sitting on my couch, a four-year-old against my side, my arm around his little body as we watch a cartoon I was able to get via On Demand. In my other arm, Luna is holding baby Gabriella, or Gaby as I’ve found the family calls her. She’s asleep and has all of Luna’s attention. Greta is watching the godawful cartoon with rapt attention cuddled beside her husband, and my mother is sipping her after-dinner decaf and Bailey’s while watching her children, a serene expression on her face.

I nudge Luna from her staring contest with a sleeping baby. “You ready for one of those?” I grin.

She smiles wide, and it steals my breath. My woman is by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.

“How’s about we start trying on our honeymoon?”

She purses her lips, thinks about it for all of two seconds, and then smirks. “You think you can get me pregnant that fast?”

“Oh, lamb, when it comes to being with you, I’ll take on any challenge. I’m the right man for the job.” I blow her a kiss, and she giggles.

“Yes, you are. The perfect man for me.” She leans over to kiss me.

“Ew, gross. Not posta kiss while watching toons.” Gavin bats at my leg.

“Do you see how pretty Aunt Luna is, bud?” I hook a thumb toward her body.

He puckers his lips, taps on them with his first finger, and focuses all his attention on her. “Yes. She’s pretty. I wike her hair. Wike Grandma’s, only more redder.”

“So you see why I can’t help wanting to kiss her.”

He tilts his head and then shakes it. “No kissing during toons.” He says it as an admonishment, not a statement, sounding very much like his Uncle Grant during business dealings. Apparently, he takes his cartoons very seriously.

“All right. All right, bud. I’ll be good.” I rock his shoulders, and he giggles and smiles up at me. With that one smile, I’ve fallen in love with a four-year-old boy. I glance to the side and take in my niece’s serene face. Okay, maybe I’m a little in love with a six-month-old girl too.

“Um, Grant, could I speak to you privately for a moment?” My mother stands and walks over to her bag, where she pulls out a wooden box about twelve inches long and four inches tall. It has a chunky black latch holding it closed.

“Sure.” I hold my hand out toward the hall leading to my bedroom.

She follows me inside, and I shut the door when she’s in.

She turns around and presents me with the box. “When I had to leave you back then…” Her voice cracks and shakes before she clears her throat. “I made you a promise. One I kept. I’d always hoped one day I’d get you back and would be able to give you these.” She hands me the wooden box.

“What is it?”

“All of the letters I’ve written you over the years that your father returned. I never stopped sending them. Every time I mailed one, I would pray and hope that it would finally make its way to you.”

I open the box and see what seems like endless stacks of unopened letters, dated and in order.

“Gretchen…uh…Mom, I’m not sure what to say.”

She pats my arm. “You don’t have to say anything, son. They were for you, and I’m glad I can finally make sure they went to the person for whom they were intended.”