The last two months have gone by in a fever dream.
Sebastian and the guys took on their big project and have taken turns traveling to various places, but they’ve planned their company around their family, not the other way around. When Seb is traveling, the other families step up to help with carpools or dinners, and we do the same for them.
Alexei returned to Boston full-time but visits at least once a month, and I’m still convinced he’s in the mafia, or maybe the Bratva since his last name is Stepanov, but he denies it wholeheartedly.
“I’m nervous, Row. Really freaking nervous. The last time I was on stage I…”
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I squeeze. “I know. But we’ll all be here for you.”
Sadness flashes in her eyes, but it only lasts a moment. There are times, like this, when she thinks about her mom, and I do my best to be someone she can talk to when she needs me.
We attended Mya’s funeral service with the kids but opted out of the wake and reception. They each said goodbye in their own way, and they each struggle with it in their own way, but we’ve enlisted the help of a fabulous therapist in town. James has been able to make a connection with each child, and I’m grateful for that.
Sebastian and I have made it our mission to be there for them, and I find that every morning I wake up, I want to see their smiling faces more than I want my next adventure.
I never thought I’d find peace in a small town, but it crashed into me like the waves on the shore, and each day is better than the last.
Seren glances down and runs a hand over the shimmery yellow dress she picked out. Mine is the same cut as hers but in midnight blue—night and day, the perfect accompaniment to her song.
A commotion in the crowd has us both looking up, and the nervous flutter in my belly finally settles even if they’re behaving like a couple of ten-year-old kids as Sebastian and Beck trip over each other as they try to reach the front row.
“She’s my daughter, Beck,” Seb whisper-yells.
“Yeah, well, she’s my niece, and I have the video camera.” Beck holds up a small device in his hand.
“I have a freaking phone.”
Tabby leans across Pappy in the front row and hisses, “Guys.”
They both stand up straight and snap their mouths closed while the crowd around them snickers.
Sailport Bay has become home for us all.
Lottie sits in the second row. She arrived this morning—with Thane, which surprised me. She’s here for an answer about the expansion into Europe, but I’ve been dragging my feet. Not because I don’t think I’ll stay with Seb, but because it’s a dream job I’m still having a hard time letting go of.
“When we went dress shopping that time,” Seren whispers, then pulls away from the curtain to look at me. “When you helped me pick out this dress, I wasn’t sure you’d be here to see me wear it.”
Guilt makes my ears feel hot. “I’m sorry, Ser. It was a strange time for all of us.”
“But you’re here. You stayed.” Her voice is pitched low, and her lashes flutter against rosy cheeks.
My chin quivers, but I nod. “I did.”
I’ve told Seren a little more about my past over the last month or so in therapy. We go as a—as a family twice a month. In as kid-friendly a way as possible, we explained why I avoided commitments and affection, but that it’s something I’m working on and it’s okay to work on ourselves for as long as it takes.
“I asked my dad to help me with something.” She sounds nervous, which feeds my anxiety. She spins in place and spots her backpack pushed against the wall, then picks it up and retrieves a small black card.
She looks from it to me, then shoves it into my hands. It’s a heavy metal card that reminds me of The Single Dad Hotline business cards, but it has a key attached to it.
“What’s this?” I ask, turning it over in my hands.
“It’s a ticket to anywhere, and a key to come home. So if you need to go, you’ll always know where you belong.” She glances down at her feet. “Dad said it’s for a private plane that will legittake you anywhere.” She shrugs. “So that’s kinda cool. I just hope you’ll take us with you, and if not, that you’ll find your way home.”
My chest constricts and my hands shake. They gave me the freedom to run and the love to return home.
“Ser, I’m not?—”
No one has ever given without taking from me. My fingers trace the tattoo on my wrist and my left earrings. Looking out at the crowd, I know it’s Sebastian. He even tugs on his left ear and winks—it’s become his silent way of acknowledging that he’s thinking about me ever since he learned that the superstition says a ringing left ear means someone is speaking well about you. Some superstitions are just too spot-on to make up, but if Pappy has taught me anything, it’s that you can’t fuck around with destiny.
