Page 72

I walked past them, feeling Virginia’s influence on the space.

Dax confirmed it. “My mom loved these plants. Good to see Dad is managing to keep them alive. She’d like that.”

He opened the front door without knocking, and I liked how sweetly simple that gesture was.

There were no gates to be buzzed through.

No security on the door.

No endless rooms to wander through, searching for people who may or may not have been home.

“Dad! We’re here!”

Stewart stepped out of the kitchen, oven mitts on his hands, and hugged his son. “Excellent! Just in time for pre-dinner drinks.”

My stomach, still a little tender from last night’s bad choices, grumbled.

“I’m going to stick to mineral water tonight.” Dax went to the refrigerator without asking his father’s permission like I would have felt inclined to do in my parents’ house. He opened it and pulled out a few bottles of water, passing one to me, and two more to Lynx and Luca.

They both shook Stewart’s hand. He smiled warmly at them, and then at his son. “It’s so nice to have you all here. I’m so glad you wanted to come around.”

I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you so much for having us.”

He waved me off. “Virginia would have had my head for not already having you all here. She was always better at this sort of thing. Making sure we all ate meals together, even after the boys all moved out.”

His voice was so sad it broke my heart. He’d lost so much in recent months. A wife. A grandson. Any future he might have planned that involved either one.

I gave him the most genuine smile I had. “We’re here now. I think she’d like that.”

He nodded and turned away, busying himself with the casserole he had bubbling away in the oven. “She very much would.” He set the dish on the stove top and lifted the lid, the aroma scenting the air so deliciously my mouth watered.

He turned back to us, a little more composed, and just in time for the front door to open and King and Roarke to come barreling through it, joking with each other at the top of their lungs. They stopped mid conversation when they saw the rest of us gathered in the kitchen, and both of them did the rounds of hugs, for me, handshakes—for Lynx and Luca—and playful shoves for their older brother.

Unlike the four of us who had opted for drinks easy on the stomach, both King and Roarke took beers from the fridge and settled into seats at the kitchen table.

I tried to help with the food preparation, but Stewart waved me out of the cooking area and over to the table.

Dax shook his head, pulling out a seat for me to sit on. “Let him go. It’s what Mom used to do. None of us were ever allowed to help make dinner once we moved out. It was her way of showing us she loved us.”

I glanced over Dax’s shoulder at the man he looked so much like. Stewart still had an edge of sadness about him, but he moved around the kitchen, making sure everything was just right, and I saw the pleasure in his eyes over doing it.

“Don’t worry,” he called, clearly overhearing our conversation. “I’ll accept all the help with cleaning up after we eat.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I told him.

He winked at me. The entire vibe in the kitchen, which was really too small for all of us, was exactly how I would have pictured Dax growing up with parents like Stewart and Virginia.

Dax pointed the top of his water bottle at me. “What are you quietly smiling about?”

I raised one shoulder. “I don’t know. This house just feels like you.”

“In that it’s brick, like his head?” Roarke asked.

Dax gave him the middle finger.

“Hey! None of that at the dinner table. Your mother would have a fit.” Stewart threw a tea towel at his eldest son, but it was good-natured.

King leaned his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together, and prayed up to the ceiling. “Then forgive me, Mother, because I’m about to defile your kitchen table with something way more inappropriate.”