"Understood."
Harrison ended the call and returned to his architectural plans, but his mind remained on Harry's evasive answers and that new confidence in his bearing. He’d made a devil's bargain to protect his son from federal drug charges. The arrangement had cost him his moral compass and forced him into partnerships with people who operated by entirely different rules.
Now, watching Harry grow into his own man, Harrison wondered if he'd simply taught his son to be more careful about his illegal activities rather than deterring him from them entirely. The thought should have filled him with dread, but instead, he felt a grudging respect for Harry's apparent evolution from reckless amateur to someone who understood how to operate in the shadows.
In business, as in life, adaptation was survival. Harrison just hoped his son had learned enough about calculated risks to avoid the kind of mistakes that could destroy them both.
12
Terry climbed out of his SUV in the grocery store parking lot, the familiar ritual of one of his least favorite chores stretching ahead of him. Toby tumbled from the back seat with his usual energy, all elbows and enthusiasm, already chattering about whether they could get the good ice cream this week. Emma slipped out with the careful grace he'd noticed her developing more often lately, adjusting her shoulder bag with the practiced efficiency of someone who took responsibilities seriously. They turned their bright smiles toward him before heading inside, and he felt that familiar warmth in his chest that came from moments like these.
He'd always made sure that no matter how shitty his day or week was, he didn't bring it home to infect the relationship he had with his kids. Even during the divorce, he and Patricia had kept their family times protected from frustrations that could have consumed everything. Kids learned that life wasn't full of rainbows and unicorns soon enough, but Terry wasn't going to make those lessons come at home.
But inside his chest, frustration was boiling. The entire week had felt like a clusterfuck of one thing after another, keeping him and Sandra from connecting. He'd had the American Legion meeting, both their jobs had kept them running from crisis tocrisis all week long, and she'd had her Auxiliary meeting along with several late nights. Today, when they were finally supposed to meet for lunch, he'd gotten pulled into a case with his detectives that couldn't wait.
The timing felt like the universe was conspiring against them, and Terry was getting damn tired of fighting cosmic forces just to have a conversation with the woman who'd been occupying his thoughts for days.
He'd made it home soon after the kids got off the school bus, and one look at the empty spaces in the refrigerator had told him they needed to run to the grocery store for the weekend. The shelves looked like locusts had descended, which wasn't far from the truth when you factored in Toby's growing appetite and Emma's recent discovery of healthy snacking.
He handled the grocery cart while Toby and Emma worked together with the practiced efficiency of kids who'd been doing this routine for years. Emma had developed a good eye for fresh fruits and vegetables, carefully squeezing fruit and examining lettuce leaves with the seriousness of a professional buyer. She also kept mental track of their budget, occasionally steering them away from name brands and toward store alternatives with the practical mindset that impressed Terry even as it reminded him she was growing up too fast.
Toby was in charge of oatmeal, cereal, and pasta—approaching each selection with the kind of focus other kids reserved for video games but also providing running commentary on why Lucky Charms was clearly superior to Fruity Pebbles from both a nutritional and entertainment standpoint.
Snacks were a joint decision, though Terry noticed Emma usually deferred to Toby's preferences while quietly adding items she knew Terry loved. The thoughtfulness of the gesturealways made him smile, even as he recognized his daughter's tendency to put other people's wants before her own.
Finally, they made their turn onto the refrigerated and frozen aisles, the temperature drop hitting them like a wall after the warmth of the rest of the store.
"They've got the yogurt I like!" Emma called out, her usual composure dissolving into pure twelve-year-old excitement as she picked up her pace.
She nearly collided with a woman reaching for the same refrigerator door, her momentum carrying her closer than social distancing would normally allow.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Emma apologized immediately, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she took a step back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Just as Terry turned to see who his daughter was apologizing to, he heard a voice that made his heart skip several beats.
"It's no problem." The woman’s tone was warm and understanding. "I see we have the same taste in yogurt."
Terry's heart began pounding against his ribs as he watched Sandra standing beside Emma, close enough that he could see the way the overhead fluorescent lights caught the auburn highlights in her hair. Pushing the cart forward, he felt a smile spread across his face as he thanked whatever gods of grocery shopping had aligned the stars to put them in the same place at the same time.
"I can't believe with our schedules, we had to meet in the grocery store," he said, his voice carrying just enough amusement to mask the relief flooding through him.
Sandra's head swung around, and for a second, he held his breath, his entire body tensing as he kept his eyes locked on her face. He was ready for anything, including irritation, awkwardness, or the polite smile she wore when she was being professionally courteous. But her smile curved her lips naturally,transforming her beautiful face into something that entered the realm of gorgeous, and he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"It's been that kind of week, hasn't it?" she said, and he could hear both exhaustion and genuine pleasure in her voice.
He nodded, feeling the weight of all their missed connections and interrupted plans. Then, taking full advantage of the situation that had been handed to him like a gift, he made a decision that was either brilliant or completely insane.
"Sandra, I'd like you to meet my kids."
Her gaze darted to Emma, who had stepped back slightly and was now observing the interaction with careful attention. Then to Toby, who was walking over with a half gallon of ice cream clutched in his hands like a trophy, his face brightening with curiosity.
Terry knew he was forcing the situation, pushing them all into a moment that probably should have been planned and choreographed, but he wasn't willing to wait any longer. Life had a way of making plans irrelevant, and sometimes you had to grab opportunities when they presented themselves.
"Kids, I'd like you to meet Sandra O'Neill, a friend of mine," he said, his voice steady despite his racing pulse. "Sandra, this is my daughter, Emma, who it sounds like has the same interest in yogurt as you do."
He wrapped his arm around Toby's shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of pride. "And this is Toby. He and I prefer ice cream over yogurt."
Toby looked up at Sandra with immediate interest, his natural friendliness overriding any shyness. "Absolutely! Ice cream's way better. You can put it on pie, or cake, or just eat it right out of the container when Dad's not looking."
