Sleeping ’til Sunrise (8 page)

“What?” I was indignant.

That was it. She doubled over laughing and hiccupping at the same time, tears running down her little pixie face.

“Explain yourself, young lady.”

“Hold your breath,” Roark directed.

The conflicting orders only made her laugh harder.

Once she finally had herself under control, she explained it was about time that I started dating, and she was tickled pink that it was Roark I’d chosen.

“Tickled pink?” I asked, squinting at her.

“Mrs. Evanston says that a lady’s language should always be proper.”

“Don’t talk to that old bat, she’s insane,” Hutch said as he walked right into my house without knocking, with a tray full of fruit.

“Lazlo thinks she’s nice, and so do I,” Ivy defended her.

Hutch rolled his eyes. “She’s a menace.”

“Why are you in here?” I inquired, irritable. I was trying to have a private moment and he—followed by Mike—was there. “I am talking to my family, you ass.”

“We are your family,” he insisted, gesturing at Ivy. “Who do you think takes care of that little girl?”

“I’m not little,” she replied emphatically, just as there was a knock on my screen door.

Takeo and Dwyer were there, and while I was happy to see them, I was surprised.

“Your daughter invited me to make breakfast with her,” Takeo informed me before he bowed.

I bowed back, and Dwyer tossed me a roll of homemade challah bread.

“Who made this?”

He tipped his head at Takeo.

“Really?”

“Dad!”

“What?” I addressed my daughter, because she sounded like I had offended her.

“That’s so racist.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You don’t think Takeo can make good challah bread just because he’s Japanese?”

“No,” I snapped. “I had no idea he had a breadmaker.”

“I apologize for my ignorance,” Takeo began. “But what is a breadmaker?”

Dwyer was laughing in seconds.

Takeo was confused.

Ivy began explaining to me in exacting detail not only about racial stereotypes, but gender ones as well.

Mike said someone needed to make coffee, Hutch asked me where my chopping board was, and Roark turned away from all of us, taking up position at the end of the counter.

Rushing up behind him, I leaned in and tenderly kissed the side of his neck.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head.

“Roark?”

As he turned so he could see me, I noted the tears instantly. “What’s—”

“You called me your family.”

I had. I hadn’t even thought about it, it had just popped out.

“I’d love to be part of your family… to belong to you.”

“You already do,” I insisted, easing him into my arms.

The way the room went instantly quiet made both Roark and me look up.

“You guys finally got that all figured out, huh?” Mike beamed at us. “That’s awesome.”

“It’s about time,” Hutch chimed in.

“Pot to kettle,” Dwyer said snidely.

I appreciated the support.

“Hey, Dad,” Ivy said, making a face. “I think you need to take a shower.”

She had no idea how right she was.

Once I got cleaned up—Roark had showered and changed at his place—I met everyone outside on my back deck for brunch. I ate like I was starved and was trying to think of how I could get rid of everyone, including my kid, without being rude, when the doorbell rang and Mike darted inside.

When he reappeared, he looked odd, tense, and Hutch was the first to stand, even before we all saw the men following him.

“I need to speak to my—Roark!”

What was nice was that my new boyfriend was not scared. He was annoyed, that was clear from his frustrated groan.

Three strangers—one older, two younger, all of whom looked a lot like the man I wanted to go back to bed with—stood there. The similarities began with height, hair, and coloring, the differences evident in things like eyes and the glint in them, the dimples, the wicked smile, the chiseled features, and the mischievous eyebrows that were, at the moment, crooked rakishly. God, he was pretty.

“You don’t just leave your family to—”

“
This
is my family,” Roark corrected the man I suspected was his father. “This is my hometown where I’m respected and where I run a successful practice, this is my boyfriend, Essien, and his daughter and my friends, and this is where I belong.”

“You—”

“So please don’t throw out the word home. I haven’t had one until now, since I came home my freshman year of college and came out to you and Mom.”

Mr. Hammond sucked in a breath. “You don’t need to air our dirty laundry; you just need to come back with us so we can work everything out.”

Roark got up from the table to face the three men in suits, and all I could think was how good he looked, how calm, how grounded. “Would the three of you like to sit down and have some breakfast and meet the important people in my life?”

“We would not,” Mr. Hammond said disdainfully.

One of the men cleared his throat. “I would.”

All eyes turned to probably the youngest man in the bunch, maybe twenty-four, twenty-five, now that I was really looking at him.

“Crosby,” Roark sighed, reaching out a hand to his brother, who darted around the table to take it.

“What the hell are you—”

“Wait,” Roark ordered his father, hand on his brother’s shoulder as he shook Crosby’s hand. “Where are you living now?”

“This is funny,” Crosby said with a grin very like Roark’s. “I live in Tallahassee.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, my girl and I are expecting a baby in the fall.”

“Oh.” Roark was overwhelmed. The smile and the shiver told me that. “I would love to come and see you—if I could—when the baby’s born or—”

“Or you and your boyfriend,” Crosby said, leaning sideways to smile at me, “could come down before that and visit. Lizzie would love that.”

“I would too,” he assured his sibling.

“You shouldn’t have any of these people near your baby!” Mr. Hammond, whose first name I still didn’t know, railed at Crosby.

“These people?” Takeo asked softly.

But before Mr. Hammond could say something in my house that could never be unsaid, Roark lifted a hand to shut everyone up.

“After you and Mom threw me out,” he began, releasing Crosby’s hand and facing his father and his other brother, “Gran was my sole support system, and even when she had her strokes, she still knew me up until the last one.”

“We know all—”

“But I didn’t remember until this morning when I cleared my head about everything that she’d put a proviso in her will.”

“What are you—”

“She wanted to donate either the house in Grosse Pointe or the winery in Midway, Kentucky, to the at-risk youth in those areas.”

We were all silent, everyone.

“Gran said that she couldn’t imagine me on the street, which was exactly where I would have been without her. So she promised me then, that when she passed she’d make sure one or the other was given to charity while the bulk of the estate would go into a trust fund that I alone would oversee.”

“We know you’re the trustee, that’s what we’re fight—”

“Oh, I see,” Dwyer said quickly, looking up at Roark while the rest of us focused on him. “Whichever place your father and mother and brothers wanted, they could keep, but the other is then immediately transferred to the estate that you’re responsible for and becomes yours to grant to whatever charity you see fit.”

“Yes.”

“No!” Mr. Hammond shouted.

Dwyer stood up and faced Roark’s family. “Though I’m not a lawyer, sir, I
am
an actuary, and from a money standpoint, I can tell you that even if you try to contest the will, as Roark would receive no monetary compensation for the transferring of assets, it’s doubtful that the will would even go through probate. And as you stand to inherit property, thus benefitting financially yourself… well… you see what I’m saying.”

“No, I don’t see.”

“You and your family will be given whichever property you want, and the other is dispensed in the manner in which your mother—” Dwyer turned to Roark for confirmation, and my boyfriend nodded. “—wanted.”

“This matter is between my son and––”

“Mr. Hammond,” Dwyer continued, “the issue for you now is that the will grants you both the choice and assets. So because you’re not cut out in any way, the best thing for you to do is not contest the will, as then it’ll get tied up in probate and it could be years before anything happens.”

“I—”

“But in the meantime, everything’s frozen, right?” The third man, Roark’s other brother, finally chimed in with a question.

“Listen.” Dwyer was ready to start over with his explanation.

“That’s why we plan to have Roark removed as executor if he doesn’t relinquish both properties to the family,” Mr. Hammond insisted.

Dwyer turned his attention from the brother back to the father. “Yes, but Roark can’t do that. As executor, he’s bound to the wishes of the deceased party, in this case your mother, and we’re all very sorry about that,” Dwyer said, glancing over at Roark and Crosby standing beside him. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was delusional!” Mr. Hammond yelled.

“All the best people are a little nuts, in my opinion,” Dwyer said with a grin. “So at this point, you have to ask yourself, do you want one of the pieces of property, or neither? Because any challenge to your mother’s plan or Roark as executor could take years for a court to decide.”

“Well, perhaps my son won’t be around long enough to remain executor. He has cancer, you know.”

I would have gone over the table at him, but Dwyer knew me well enough to pivot and grab, catching the brunt of my forward charge and forcing me back just enough to keep me from tearing Mr. Hammond’s head off.

Dwyer missed Takeo, though, who slipped around the table and slapped Mr. Hammond sharply across the face.

“Remove yourself at once,” Takeo commanded, and I, for one, had never heard that tone—dark, menacing—come out of the small, slight man. “Your words are abhorrent to all those present.”

Mr. Hammond made a move like he was going to backhand Takeo.

“Rethink your intended action,” Takeo warned. “It would be unwise to proceed, as I am in the employ of Aaron Sutter and therefore have an entire fleet of lawyers at my disposal.”

Mr. Hammond looked murderous as he regarded Takeo, who, with an open hand, pointed toward the front door.

“It would be best to ruminate on the choice before you, accept what was granted, and do no more to harass your son, as that is counterproductive in this instance.”

“You could stay, David,” Roark offered to his other brother, the one who’d said barely anything the entire time he’d been in the kitchen.

“No,” he replied icily. “I couldn’t, not without throwing up. And you, Crosby, better leave with us right now if you expect to get any money for that little Cuban—”

“No!” Hutch yelled as Mike grabbed hold of Crosby before he went over the table like I was planning to earlier. “There is no homophobia or racism during brunch on a Sunday morning.”

“Get out of my house before I call the police,” I warned them as Dwyer let me go and Roark sidled up to me, slid his arms around my waist, and leaned in, squeezing tight.

“I suppose the police are gay in this town too,” Mr. Hammond sneered.

“Yes,” Takeo said brightly, and in the silence, we all turned to see him at the edge of the porch, and only then did I realize he was on his phone. “Good morning to you as well, Mr. Sutter. Are you enjoying Amsterdam?”

We all froze, even the Hammonds.

The way Takeo smiled and his face opened up, infused with happiness, made it impossible not to admire his beauty, but even more, the incredible warmth there on display. When I glanced at Dwyer, I saw the adoration on every line of his face.

“Excellent,” Takeo said quickly with another smile. “I am so pleased to—oh, yes, I wanted to ask a favor for a friend if I might.” He gave a huge shit-eating grin as his big black eyes flicked to Roark’s father and brother. “Yes, thank you, sir, it’s a matter of a will.”

“He can’t unring that bell,” Dwyer explained to Mr. Hammond. “You need to go. Your son’s new team of lawyers will be in touch.”

And with that, Mr. Hammond and David were finally gone, charging out the same way they’d come in, Hutch following them out as Crosby stayed put with us.

I reached out and took hold of Dwyer’s shoulder, turning him to me. “Takeo didn’t have to do that. I’m sure we were okay.”

“We,” Roark repeated, sagging against me. “God, when you’re in, you’re all in, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” I said, hugging him tight.

“Takeo
did
need to do that,” Dwyer insisted. “Any kind of legal issue could adversely affect Roark’s practice, which could have a financial impact down the road. You don’t ever want to let something small escalate when you can simply remove the threat before it becomes one.”

“I’m sorry, who’s Aaron Sutter?” Crosby asked, moving up beside Roark.

“What rock do you live under?” Mike asked him.

“Got your bag,” Hutch announced as he walked back out onto the deck.

“Oh, thank you,” Crosby said, startled. “I didn’t even think to—I really appreciate that.”

“That’s him,” Mike almost crowed, leaning over to give Hutch a quick kiss. “He’s very thoughtful. It’s one of the many reasons I love him.”

“Pardon me.”

We all turned to Takeo, who stepped into our circle.

“Mr. Sutter is arranging for a Mr. Richard Jenner, managing partner of Jenner Knox, to contact you within the next hour. His firm was just placed on retainer, and Mr. Jenner will take care of this situation moving forward. Mr. Sutter cautioned you not to speak to your father about this matter in any way, as that could prove to be problematic for your law team.”

“Your law team,” Crosby repeated, patting Roark on the shoulder. “Holy crap.”

“Thank you, Takeo,” Roark said, leaning out of my embrace so he could bow.

I moved away from everyone and took Ivy aside, hugging her before we separated and I held her hands in mine.