“No, no. I’m an adult. I understand my parents weren’t perfect.” Except... as a child, it was natural to make one parent right and the other wrong. Her father, so loving and boisterous and generous and indulgent of her. Her mother, closed off and distant. Right. Wrong.
Livvy pushed the thoughts away, disquieted by even a hint that maybe there had been complexities in her parents’ relationship she’d been unaware of. “My mom doesn’t hassle me about my career anymore.”Because we don’t talk about anything anymore.
“How is Tani doing? Recovering from her injury?” John said her mother’s name like a verbal caress. Tani and John’s relationship had always been like parent and child.
“Yes, nicely.”
“Getting old is fucking awful.”
She smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“I’m sorry about Paul. I wanted to come to the funeral so badly. But I feared upsetting you and Tani further.”
She dipped her head, acknowledging his condolences. Would she have been less miserable that day, standing by the grave of her brother, if she’d known John and Nicholas had wanted to be there? Undoubtedly. It warmed her now, to know that support had been out there, even if she’d been unaware. “Thanks.”
“A tragedy, that’s what it was.”
“Yes. A tragedy.”
Nicholas reentered the room, his gaze softening as it rested on her and his grandfather. The old-fashioned tea cart he pushed didn’t distract a bit from his rugged masculinity.
Nostalgia shot through her. The delicate porcelain tea set was white with pink roses on it. “Grandma Barb’s tea set.”
John’s wife had been a kind, matronly sort whohad adored having all the grandchildren over for tea. She’d passed away when Liv was a child, but she’d had a few years to get to know the woman.
John’s age-spotted hands curled in his lap. “I barely use it now. I don’t have many visitors.”
Nicholas snorted and set the cart in front of them. “You could, if you weren’t so grumpy every time one of your old friends came to see you.”
“I barely liked most of those bastards,” John grumbled. “Can I be blamed for preferring the company of my garden?”
“Then don’t complain you don’t have any visitors,” Nicholas said calmly.
“Asshole,” John said affectionately.
Livvy grinned, glad to see age hadn’t taken any of John’s sharp tongue. The words this man had taught her.
John accepted the teacup and turned to her, a gleam in his eyes. “Now, tell me some sordid stories about life as a tattoo artist.”
LIVVY HADN’Tcome home looking for a grandfather’s love, but she’d found it. And she’d never be able to express how grateful she was.
She could easily have stayed on this couch for hours. Nicholas and his grandfather’s relationship was as easy as it had always been, half joking, half loving. Nicholas barely swore, but he had no problem matching the elder man’s salty tongue.
There was only one spot of tension, when John brought up some sort of media hubbub. “We’re handling it,” Nicholas said.
“I want to make sure we aren’t slipping, Nicholas. People. Quality—”
“I know, Grandpa.”
“Your father will want to pursue the bottom dollar. Well, that’s not what Sam and I...” He paused and shot a guilty look at Livvy, who pretended not to have noticed the slip. “We didn’t start this company with an eye toward only making a profit.”
“Dad would say we’re in a position to make the world a better place if we can make a profit.”
“I—”
“Grandpa.” Nicholas gave a single, firm shake of his head. “Not now.”
His grandfather sighed, long and heavy, but subsided. “Very well. Keep me informed.”
