I didn’t really get this either, but Harper and I, we had the yacht and we had each other. We always knew we were children. And that’s a big deal.
Wendy and Indie, they never got to be children the way Harper and I did. They didn’t spend years floating around the tropics swimming, and diving, and playing on a beach. They were working. And I was working too, but I didn’t go far and I always came home at night. I wasn’t taken away from Harper and I suddenly wonder how that came to be.
It’s not like my father was paternal, or whatever. He didn’t give a fuck about us. Whatever childhood I had with Harper was part of his plan.
So why did he let us become so close?
This reminds me of Adam’s declaration last night. That we’re brothers.
Maybe. I mean, the pedigree kinda lines up and it’s not exactly unheard of. But you know the most interesting thing about Adam, if we do turn out to be brothers? It’s McKay.
Adam was given McKay and I was allowed to keep Harper.
It feels very… planned.
Damn, my mind is wandering today. I put the school books back where I got them and refocus on Wendy. She didn’t get a yacht. She didn’t get a built-in best friend like McKay and Harper. She didn’t have a whole family of people around her the way this little Maggie does. The way Merc’s kids do too. And hell, the whole reason I gave Lauren to Sasha was so that she could have a life like this as well.
Maggie has this.
Lauren has this.
Daphne, Avery, and Lily have this.
Indie had this.
Nate had this, by proxy.
I had this.
Sasha had this—even if the last part of her childhood was not in the plan.
And I can only assume, since this fuckin’ place belongs to Adam, that he and McKay had this.
Hell, I don’t really know where Donovan fits in, but sure as fuckin’ shit, he had this too. Because no matter what he is, he’s still Donovan Couture, grandson to a very important man.
Everyone had a little bit of family except Wendy.
This is why she’s the way she is.
Nick. My inner voice is almost chuckling. Indie had this, and it never slowed her down. Not one bit.
But Indie was influenced by Carter. Wendy was not.
Wendy needs this. This is Wendy’s cure.
The real one, I mean. Because the one Donovan and Carter have, that’s the fake one. Mind over matter. Manifestation kind of shit.
This is what I’m gonna give her once this cure nonsense is all over.
I’m gonna give her a family, and a big ol’ house filled with comfy things.
Maybe we won’t have kids—it’s dangerous to keep the bloodline going, not to mention that whole second-generation speech I just sold myself about Maggie—but we could adopt. Not Company kids, either. I know they need it just as much as anyone, but no. There will be no second generation in our future home. I don’t care if our adopted kids are mouthy, mean, snot-nosed, trailer-park brats. That would still be better than having one of our own.
I get up and walk back down the hallway to the front room and I’m just in time to see Indie, Nate, and Wendy walk over to the pavilion. I pull the curtain aside and watch through the window as they flop down onto that huge, flat bed swing like they are meant to be that way.
There’s something very personal about the way they tangle together. The way they are familiar with each other. And they should be, I guess. But there’s a little sexual tension wafting off these three. I know Wendy’s not part of that. It’s all Nathan and Indie. But I don’t like it. I don’t want her out there with them. Because let’s face it—they are meant to be this way.
They are meant to be together.
They are the new generation.
Adam, and McKay, and me… we’re the old.
CHAPTER EIGHT - ADAM
I call the Corinthian Hotel and let them know I’m coming so they can kick out whoever is in the penthouse and have it ready for us. I own the entire chain. Ten hotels—New Orleans, New York, Seattle, Paris, London, Edinburgh, Tokyo, Berlin, Rio, and Bora Bora. That was a little side hobby I had after Maggie and I left. Collecting hotels. There was only one Corinthian when I started, but I had a shit-ton of money and a chain of luxury hotels seemed like a good thing to own when you’re on the run from everyone you hold dear.
Nick appears in the living room just as I end the call. I’m in my office, but the door is open, so I watch him as he crosses the living room and stops to stand in front of the window facing the porch. He doesn’t notice me until I leave my office and enter the living room. Then he peeks over his shoulder and sighs.