Luci finished her scales and came over, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to me. “Uncle Grady, do you have a girlfriend?”
I blinked. “What?”
“A girlfriend. Do you have one?”
“Luci,” Camila said gently. “That’s a personal question.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Why not? Mom worries about you. She said she thinks you’re lonely,” Luci said.
“Your mom worries too much,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Luci tilted her head, studying me. “Because you always look a little sad.”
“I’m not sad,” I said. “I promise.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop.
The front door opened downstairs, and Hank called out, “I’m home!”
“Daddy!” Both kids scrambled up and ran for the stairs.
I followed them down to find Hank in the entryway, dropping his keys in a bowl. He was tall with dark hair going gray at the temples and always slightly disheveled. There was an inquisitive expression in his green eyes at all times. Mara had known he was a true artist from the beginning, even when they were just college students that he would do what he said he would do. And now here he was, successful Hollywood film maker. What did it feel like to know exactly where you belonged and to whom?
Jordan launched himself at Hank’s legs. Luci wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Hello, offspring,” Hank said, hugging them both. “How was your day?”
“Good. Uncle Grady’s here,” Jordan said.
“I know. I’ve been looking forward to seeing him.” Hank looked up and grinned at me. “Grady, good to see you, man.”
“You too.” I walked over and we shook hands, then pulled into a brief hug.
“You doing okay?” Hank’s tone was casual, but his eyes were serious.
“Doing just fine,” I said.
“After tomorrow you’ll know the deal. Whatever the old man left you, at least it’s closure.” He squeezed my shoulder as Camila called to the children to come wash up for dinner.
After they’d scampered back up the stairs, Hank turned to me. “Beer?”
“Yeah. That’d be great.”
We walked into the kitchen where Mara was pulling salmon, asparagus, and lemons out of the fridge.
“Hey, babe.” Hank kissed her cheek. “You want help?”
“I’ve got it. You two catch up.”
Hank grabbed two beers, handed me one, and we walked out to the back patio. The sun was starting to set, turning the sky pink and orange. L.A. might have smog, but it made pretty sunsets. Beyond the yard, the canyon stretched out wild and vast.
We sat in lounge chairs by the pool. I took a long drink of the beer, thinking about what Mara had said. Maybe it was time to get a real job, buy a house. Beg Esme to give me a chance to give her the life and love she deserved. I put it aside, content to catch up with Hank and forget about my own problems for a bit.
The attorney’sconference room overlooked downtown Los Angeles, the noise of traffic below muted by thick glass. Mara and I sat side by side on one end of the long table, sinking into chairs that were too soft for the seriousness of the moment. A tray of water, fruit, and bagels sat untouched between us.
The attorney entered with a thin folder tucked under his arm.
