"Devon Walter Boone, I raised you. I know your 'thinking about nothing' face, and that's not it." Brea leaned against therailing beside him. “For the last two weeks, you’ve been quiet. More reserved. What’s going on?”
Devon sighed, admitting defeat. His mother had an uncanny ability to extract confessions. "I'm waiting for Bryson and Riley to come back from their walk."
Confusion filled his mother’s eyes. "He can’t seriously be worried he’s coming out of that vineyard without a fiancée?"
“For the first time since he was born, I don’t want him to do something funny so I can poke fun at him.”
“Now, that’s a new one.” Brea's hand covered his on the railing. “But at this point, it's virtually impossible for him to screw it up."
"You don't know Bryson like I do.”
"I raised him. I'm pretty sure I know him better." Brea sipped her wine. " Have a little faith. He's got this. "
Devon wanted to. Wanted to trust that his brother's carefully orchestrated proposal would go smoothly. But Bryson had a particular talent for overthinking simple things into complicated disasters while Devon waited in the wings, so he had fodder for family dinners.
Movement at the edge of the vineyard caught his attention. Two figures emerging from between the rows, hands clasped, both of them smiling.
Riley lifted her left hand high, wiggling her fingers. Even from this distance, Devon could see the diamond catching the golden hour light, throwing tiny sparks into the air.
The backyard exploded.
Ashley's shriek could probably be heard in the next county. She launched herself from her chair with such enthusiasm that she knocked over the bottle of nail polish, sending iridescent pink streaming across the patio table. Hasley was right behind her, both of them sprinting across the lawn toward Riley like their lives depended on it.
Emery jumped up more carefully, mindful of her still-wet nails, but moved just as quickly. Jessica bolted after them, her half-painted nails forgotten in the excitement.
Ashley reached Riley first, grabbing her hand to examine the ring. “Grandma’s ring looks perfect on you.”
"Let me see.” Hasley crowded in, practically climbing over her sister.
Riley laughed, tears streaming down her face, trying to show everyone the ring while also trying to hug everyone at once.
Grant, meanwhile, had charged at Bryson like a linebacker seeing an opening. He hit his future brother-in-law with enough force to stagger them both, wrapping him in a bear hug that turned into a headlock that turned into a full wrestling match on the lawn.
“Took you long enough,” Grant said.
“Get off of me.” Bryson managed to break free. Both men jumped to their feet. “You know, payback is a bitch.” Bryson tackled Grant around the waist. They went down in a heap, both of them laughing like kids.
Devon watched them roll around in the grass, grinning so hard his face hurt. A year ago—hell, six months ago—Grant and Bryson could barely be in the same room without words of frustration being tossed between them like they were playing tennis. Their relationship had been difficult since childhood, marked by years of resentment and misunderstanding, thanks to pride and stubbornness, and thanks to Grant’s mother, who’d constantly meddled in her children’s lives.
Now, Grant and Bryson were wrestling in the backyard, celebrating together, acting like best friends.
"Look at them," Devon’s mother said. “Look at all of them. Grant, Erin, and Riley have fought to be a family again, and I love them all as if they were part of our family. I worry about Grant through, with their mother’s trial coming up. I can seehow he’s trying to be strong. Trying to hold it together for his family. But he carries so much guilt.” Brea wiped a tear from her cheek.
“He’ll get through it,” Devon said. “He’s got his sisters. He’s got an amazing wife. Two beautiful children. And now, he’s got all of us to support him through testifying against his mom. I think the hard part will be admitting in a courtroom full of people that he took a cup of coffee filled with poison that his mom gave him and handed it to his father, who died less than an hour later.” Devon stared out at the perfect chaos in the yard. The kids had gone back to running around. Jessica leaned against her dad, head resting on his shoulder. All of a sudden. she looked less like a teenager and more like a little girl.
Bryson and Riley had taken a seat on the blanket and were in deep conversation.
“Something else is on your mind, because you’re not out there busting your brother’s ass,” Brea said.
Devon should have known better than to think he could hide anything from his mother. "Emery got her DNA results back yesterday," he admitted quietly. "It's confirmed. She's David Callaway's daughter. Winston's half-sister. Official heir to the Callaway estate."
“I think we all knew that was coming.”
"She doesn't know what to do. Whether to claim her inheritance, whether to acknowledge David publicly as her father. The only thing she knows for sure is she’d never take the Callaway name.” Devon's hands tightened on the railing. "I want to help her, but I don't know how. I don't know what to say or how to make this easier."
"You can't make it easier, sweetheart. This is something she has to work through herself." Brea's voice was gentle but firm. "What youcando is let her digest the information in her owntime. Give her space to figure out who she wants to be now that she knows the truth. And just be there for her.”
"What if she decides she wants to claim everything? What if she decides she's a Callaway and that means she belongs at Callaway Wines instead of here?"
