Richest Girl in the World

Addie

Five Months Later . . .

I MADE THE turn into Toby’s lane, hit the garage door opener on my sun visor, drove up and coasted into Toby’s bay of the garage, which was now my bay at his demand, since it was closer to the door to the house.

I put the Focus into park and cut the ignition.

Then I did the usual drill.

I turned to the passenger seat, grabbed the mail I’d picked up from the mailboxes at the front of the complex and my purse.

I got out, throwing the strap of my bag over my shoulder, then went around the car to the back-passenger side.

I opened the door.

Brooklyn looked up at me from his car seat and said, “Mommy, peezza.”

“We’ll see, baby,” I replied, unstrapping him, juggling mail and my son to pull him out and put him on my hip.

I used the other hip to slam the door and walked to the garage door panel.

“Hit it, bud,” I said.

Brooks reached out and hit the button.

The garage door went down.

I took my son inside.

Dapper Dan greeted us.

I set down my kid, who walked on much steadier legs to the area under the stairs where there was a low, wide chest.

I bent and gave Dapper Dan some scratches behind his ears before I moved to the back door, opened it, and Dapper Dan rushed out.

I closed the door and walked to the chest where Brooks was, flipping it open.

He reached in and pulled out some toys.

Me and the pumps I was wearing avoided crashing to the floor as Barbarella rubbed against my ankles, and I skirted the massive dining room table that now sat in what had been a massive open space in the middle of his great room, but Toby had filled with that table.

With the leaves in, it sat ten.

Right now, without the leaves, it sat six. This meant there were four chairs under plastic covers as well as the two leaves (also under cover) on hooks on a wall in the garage.

I argued a table that huge was overkill.

Toby told me when all the Usual Suspects were together, we already had seven people, counting Brooks’s highchair. His argument was that for that table to be useful for years to come, considering the fact Deanna had shared the week after Valentine’s Day that she was pregnant, he should have bought one that seated twelve.

He had a point.

I’d given in.

I dumped my purse and the mail on the island counter, opened up my bag and pulled out my phone.

I engaged it and made my call.

“Hello, child,” Dave answered.

“Hey, Dave. You good?” I asked.

“All good, Addie. You good?” he asked back.

“Yeah. Need anything?”

“No, darlin’. We’re fine.”

“You and Margot coming to the festival tomorrow?”

A pause before, “I don’t think so.”

Shit.

“You up for company after we get done eating our way through it?” I asked.

“We’d love that,” he answered.

A garage door could be heard going up.

“Daddy!” Brooks shouted and started running toward the garage door.

This was new, and probably had a lot to do with his friends and their fathers at daycare.

I’d discussed it with Toby. I’d then discussed it with Eliza. Toby and I had finally discussed it with Margot and Dave.

And we’d decided to let it stand.

In the time since getting the news that Perry had changed phones, I’d called his friends repeatedly and then Toby had worked some magic on his laptop and found his address.

I’d sent a letter, heard nothing.

So I’d sent a registered letter, which was received.

And heard nothing.

I then sent another registered letter, which was refused.

In the first two letters I made no demands, just shared about Brooklyn, sent him some photos and told him the door was open if he wanted to see his son.

The final refusal said it all.

So everyone agreed that Toby Daddy was the way to go.

If Perry ever came back, he’d have to figure that out.

But Toby had helped teach Brooklyn how to use a spoon and fork. He was helping Brooks learn his ABCs. He was helping to teach him colors and shapes. Not to mention the difference between Dapper Dan, Ranger, Dempsey and Swirl being dogs, Barbarella, and Iz and Johnny’s Sabrina, Jill and Kelly being cats, Iz’s birds, Wesley and Buttercup being canaries and Serengeti and Amaretto being horses.

If Perry wanted in, he would have to catch up.

And he could be Daddy number two.

But for me, that ship had sailed, and as far as I was concerned, he was just Perry.

“Toby’s home,” Dave said in my ear, obviously having heard Brooklyn. “I’ll let you go.”

“Okay, Dave. We’ll text and give you time before we show tomorrow.”

“That’d be good, child. See you then.”

“See you, Dave. Love you.”

“Love you too, Addie.”

We hung up about five seconds before the garage door could be heard going down and the door to the house was opened.

“Daddy!” Brooks cried again.

Then he was swung up in Toby’s arms.

“Hey, bud,” Toby greeted.

“Ay!”

“Good day?”

“Yah!”

Tobe grinned at him, kissed his neck, Brooklyn laughed (our boy liked the beard too), then Toby walked him to the mess he’d made with his toys on the floor by the chest, set him on his feet and started to me.

Those toys would be scattered all over in about fifteen minutes. They were only tidy because that was housecleaner day.

Toby’s decision.

Before Brooks and I had moved in the month before, Toby and I sat over beers at Home and made the decisions that worked for us both.

He dealt with the mortgage. I bought all the food.

We traded monthly paying utilities.

And Toby paid housecleaners to come in every other week to clean because he hated cleaning. I was considering going to an online school to become a paralegal, and if I did, I wasn’t going to have a lot of time, and the renovations at the shack were in full swing. So most weekends we drove down there to check the progress and have family time.

He got the short end of that deal.

But . . . whatever.

“Hey,” he said to me.

“Hey,” I replied.

His eyes moved the length of me, lingering at my ass in my tight skirt and at the high-heeled pumps on my feet.

He made it to me, and his hand glided over that ass and his beard went into my neck where he said, “Love it when I get home before the pumps come off.”

“We’re so totally playing boss and secretary,” I replied.

His beard came out of my neck, I turned my head, and he looked into my eyes.

His were smiling.

“Tease. You keep offering, all I ever got was one night with the sexy cop.”

“Your bed doesn’t have any way to handcuff you to it.”

His smiling eyes got closer as his smiling lips hit mine.

He gave me a peck, then moved to the fridge.

“Beer?” he asked.

“I’m all classy in pumps and skirt,” I returned. “Wine.”

“Gotcha,” he muttered. “Call Dave?”

“No on the festival. Yes on the ‘they’re okay.’ Yes on a visit after the festival.”

“I’ll call Johnny,” he said, coming out of the fridge with a bottle of beer and a bottle of white.

“Daddy, we’s ‘av peezza,” Brooks called.

Tobe shot a smile to our kid then looked to me. “Pizza?”

“I hadn’t decided, but that works for me.”

“I’ll get out the breadmaker,” he muttered.

Suffice it to say, the living together and the dining room table were not the only indications of our budding domesticity.

There were toss pillows on the couch (Toby picked them out at Pottery Barn). There was a lamp on an end table by the couch (that was me). There was a his and hers reading nook tucked in the corner with two comfy chairs that shared an ottoman, table and a standing lamp, plus a smaller chest filled with Brooks’s toys (totally Toby). And upstairs, the master bedroom had been kitted out with some throws, toss pillows, two kickass armchairs, and a spindly-legged table with a small lamp on top (that was me, with help from Margot).

It was Toby who’d had the photo of my mom in the moonlight professionally enlarged even larger than I’d unprofessionally had it enlarged, as well as treated so you could see her. He’d had it framed and he’d mounted it over the corner fireplace in our room.

It was a better present than Barbarella, by far, and Barbarella was awesome.

It was also Toby who’d put a rocking chair in the corner and fixed some shelves for Brooks’s books and toys on a wall and bought big tin letters that spelled Brooklyn’s Place that he’d installed over Brooklyn’s crib in his room.

All that was almost better than the picture of my mom.

But not quite.

Coming in a close third, for my birthday, he’d done this whole Martha Stewart Would Have an Orgasm craft space in the loft, where I could make my cards and do other stuff during my me time.

I still sold cards (and notecards, notecard sets and postcards) at Macy’s as well as Carol’s shop in Bellevue. Not to mention, I’d done Johnny and Izzy’s save-the-date cards and wedding invitations, which bought me an order of wedding invites from Carolyn, Lora’s friend (now my friend) and birthday invites from Bea, (also my friend now through Lora). I’d shown them a photo of Izzy’s save the date at Magic Mike night during my initiation and the seal was broken.

I wasn’t complaining.

I no longer needed the money. So I used it to spoil my boys.

I felt bad I had a space and Toby didn’t for about thirty seconds, which was the time it took for him to explain his space was parked in front of the TV or when he was fucking me in our bed.

So I let that go.

We also had a smattering of SMEG appliances on the countertops courtesy of my Christmas Crate and Barrel gift card.

And a breadmaker because we liked to make our own pizza, from base up.

He popped his beer, poured wine and was getting out the breadmaker as I shuffled through mail.

“Dan outside?” Toby asked when I saw it.

“Yeah,” I muttered, staring at the envelope, my heart starting to race.

I vaguely noted Toby heading to the back door as I headed to the utility drawer to get out the letter opener (see? totally domesticated—I’d never had a letter opener in my life).

Dapper Dan was in and I heard Toby murmuring his greetings to our dog, knowing he was giving a fur rubdown as I slid the letter out and read it.

It wasn’t what I expected.

My skin still went chill.

I read it again.

“Addie.”

I read it again.

“Adeline.”

Slowly, my head turned to Toby who was standing right by my side.

“My grandmother died. I’ve been asked to the reading of her will next Friday.”

He glanced at the letter than back at me. “Which grandmother?”

“Dad’s.”

“Fuck,” he murmured quietly so Brooks wouldn’t hear.

My body jumpstarted. “I need to call Izzy.”

“Yeah,” he said, gently taking the letter from me as I moved to the island to get my phone.

I glanced at him to see he was reading it before I moved outside to the back deck to make the call.

It was summer. We needed deck furniture.

This was my thought as the phone rang.

I knew Iz was talking into her car, still on her way home from the city, when she answered it.

“Hey, doll. What’s up?”

“I got a letter from a law firm in Lexington. Dad’s mother died and the will is going to be read on Friday. They’ve asked for my attendance. And if they’ve asked for me, you might have a letter too.”

“Oh boy,” she replied.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I . . . Dad might be there,” she noted.

“Yeah,” I said.

The door opened, and I turned to see Toby there with my glass of wine.

He handed it to me.

I took it.

He didn’t leave me.

“Okay, I’ll call you if I got a letter,” Izzy said.

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Is Toby there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I think so. Are you gonna go?” she queried.

“I have one personal day. So . . . I think so. Do you wanna go?”

“I . . . don’t know. I don’t want to see him.”

“I don’t either but I also kind of do.”

She sounded surprised. “You do?”

I did.

Kind of.

I was awesome. Iz was awesome. We were healthy, happy. Daphne raised two strong, beautiful girls.

I wanted him to see that.

I didn’t want to be up in his face about it. I didn’t care that much.

But I was thinking I wanted to do that for my mom.

“I don’t know, Iz. I don’t . . . shit,” I muttered.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she decided.

“Good idea.”

“They wouldn’t ask us there if she hadn’t left something for us, right?” Izzy remarked.

“She could just have left a message, and if it’s just a message, I don’t want to waste a personal day having to listen to what that bitch has to say,” I replied.

“I hear you.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I said.

“Yeah, Addie.” She changed the subject to one more important. “You call Dave?”

“No to the festival. But we’re going over for a visit tomorrow after.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Johnny. Obviously, we’ll go with you. Now letting you go. Love you, doll.”

“Love you too, babe.”

We hung up.

I took a sip of wine.

“So?” Toby prompted.

“We’re gonna hash it out tomorrow at the Food Festival.”

“Right.”

I looked into his eyes. “He might be there, honey.”

“You go, I’m going with you.”

I nodded.

“You don’t have to go,” he pointed out.

I nodded again.

“You told me they have money,” he remarked.

“Yes, lots of it,” I confirmed.

“If she’s givin’ some of that to you, you should take it. For you. Not for Brooks. For you. She owes that to you,” Toby said. “But if you can’t do that, then you should take it for Brooks.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “Last time I saw her, though, she was shrieking at my mother about taking us from our father.”

“If she did this just to fuck with you, then you’ll have it confirmed, like we had it confirmed with that gig with Sierra, you weren’t missing anything. And I know it sounds crazy, but when it settles in, it’s actually a relief.”

That wasn’t the first time I was happy he felt like that about Sierra.

I nodded yet again, took another sip, then moved toward Toby.

He drew me into his arms.

“Why do these women keep coming out of the woodwork when we should be all about Margot?” I asked into his chest.

“Closure, Addie.” His voice changed when he said his next, and the arms I had around him tightened. “In a lot of ways.”

I closed my eyes and did it hard.

We held on to each other for a while.

“I need to get the dough going,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Stay out here, I got dough and kid. You take time to get shit right in your head.”

I tipped that head back to look up at him.

“Thanks, honey.”

“Love you, baby,” he said before he dropped his lips to mine.

That was a peck too, a harder one, before he gave me a squeeze and let me go.

I watched him go inside and heard my son complain, “Daddy, Dappah Dan cirsee.”

That meant Dapper Dan and something about his circle.

It was difficult to separate kid toys from dog toys, and more difficult for Dapper Dan who in very real ways was also our kid, a kid our boy often threw his toys for so they could play.

In other words, Toby would be on his laptop that night, ordering some replacement.

I turned to the railing, put a hand to it and lifted my wineglass to my lips, resting my eyes on the brief snatch of grass we had that fed into forest.

One thing I knew, I was not taking my son to that reading.

The other thing I knew, if our father was there, he’d see Iz and me walking in on high heels, wearing nice dresses with the best men alive at our sides.

So whatever that woman had to say or do, it really didn’t matter.

She could try to shred us.

She could give us a million dollars.

It just didn’t matter.

We already had it all.

Toby was on his knees on the floor at the side of the bed.

I was on my back in it.

And his mouth was between my legs.

He ate me and he ate me and, God, God, fucking consumed me.

And when my hand was clenching his hair, almost there, his mouth went away.

God, I hated when he did this.

And totally fucking loved it.

“Baby,” I begged.

But then I was on my knees at the edge of the bed and I was taking his cock.

Okay.

Yeah.

Loved it.

“Fuck yourself,” he ordered thickly.

I got up on my hands too and did what I was told.

He let me, then took over, fucking me into the bed as he entered it. Once he got us where he wanted us, he curled over me, biting my shoulder, my neck, his arm wrapped around my chest, and he pulled me up.

He fucked me upright, both hands going to my breasts, squeezing, rolling and tugging my nipples.

My head fell back. “Tobe.”

“Mouth.”

I turned to him.

He rolled my nipples, fucked me and kissed me.

God.

I was getting there, fast.

I broke the kiss and said urgently, “Honey.”

I gave a muted cry when he pulled me off, turned me around to face him on my knees, his hand was in my hair, yanking it back, his other arm was around my waist, both forcing me to arch for him, then his mouth was at my nipple, sucking hard.

“Oh my God, baby,” I breathed, burying my fingers in his hair, and with my other hand, reaching for his cock.

It took hold and stroked.

“Yeah,” he growled against my flesh, pumping into my hand, switching nipples.

“Need you to fuck me,” I told him.

He sucked harder.

“Toby, need you inside me,” I pleaded.

He rolled my nipple with his tongue then said there, “In a minute.”

“Toby—”

He shoved me to my back. I lost purchase on his cock, he took control of it and with one hand jacking himself, his other hand diving between my legs to finger fuck me, he towered over me, claiming my pussy and giving me a show.

“Come on me,” I ordered.

“No fuckin’ way, ride that hand,” he ordered in return.

“Tobe—”

“Earn it,” he rumbled.

God, I was earning it already.

Did he have any idea how hot it was to watch him tug on his cock?

“Okay, let me suck you,” I offered.

He slid his fingers out and rolled my clit.

My eyes rolled in my head.

“Baby, who controls this bed?”

My eyes rolled back, and I huffed out, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned, stopped rolling, stopped stroking, grasped me behind my knees, yanked them up, released one so he could grab his cock, and then he was inside.

Finally.

My back lifted from the bed.

His hand went again to my knee and he fucked me.

“Yes, Toby,” I encouraged.

He spread my legs wider.

Now I was his show.

“Yes,” I whimpered, wanting to watch all that was my man up on his knees, banging me, but I was too lost in him actually banging me.

“Totally figurin’ out how to film you takin’ my fucking so you can see how goddamned fuckin’ gorgeous you are,” he growled.

Oh God.

We were so totally doing that.

“Tobe—”

He took a hand from my knee and pinched my clit.

There it was.

My mouth opened, the world washed away, and it was only Toby and me.

Just Toby and me.

In other words, I came for him.

Hard.

He covered me, kept fucking me, and I felt his finger slide in my mouth.

I sucked on it.

Hard.

“Fuckin’ fuck,” he grunted, his finger was gone, his tongue was there, and I was just beginning to come down when he groaned in my mouth.

That was Toby.

Unless he was doing me on my knees or belly (and sometimes even then), he came while kissing me.

I loved that about him.

Then again, I loved everything about him.

He finished fully planted, worked my neck with his lips and beard and slid slowly out trailing that beard down my chest, between my breasts, to my belly before he moved away and left the bed.

I rarely cleaned up.

That was also Toby.

He looked after me.

I rolled to my side, curled up and watched the door to the bathroom so I saw him reappear with a wet washcloth.

By the by, my white bathroom accessories against his black granite countertops and among all that wood in his bathroom?

The bomb.

Toby striding to me naked after fucking me like he fucked me?

Da bomb diggity bomb bomb.

“C’m ’ere,” he murmured heading to the side of the bed.

I pushed up, went there and got up to my knees.

“Spread,” he muttered.

I spread.

The warm cloth went between my legs just as his lips hit mine and his tongue went between them.

We made out while he cleaned me.

He nipped my lower lip lightly when he was done and ordered, “Don’t move,” before he headed back to the bathroom.

Goodie.

It was Friday night. We had a full day tomorrow, what with Matlock Memorial Day Food Festival and a visit to Margot and Dave and all. And Brooklyn would wake us early.

But it was Friday night so all that was goodness, not responsibility.

So he wasn’t done with me.

He came back, but not to me.

I watched him walk to the nightstand. I appreciated his back and ass as he did something at it, thinking, goodie again.

Toys.

Needless to say, on a day Brooklyn was spending some time with Aunt Iz, Uncle Johnny and his GoGo and Davey, Tobe and I had taken a road trip to Grayburg.

And he’d been right. The sex shop there was inspired.

He shut the drawer to his nightstand with his thigh, turned to me, came and positioned in front of me, grabbing my left wrist.

He lifted my hand and ran a thumb along the palm to the base of my ring finger.

Then he engaged his other hand, and only then did what he was doing strike me.

My eyes went from his handsome face, which was tipped down to watch what he was doing, to my hand just in time to see him slide a diamond ring on my finger.

It was not ridiculous like Izzy’s.

But it was still ridiculous.

A large, brilliant round stone set in a narrow band that was completely filled with smaller diamonds.

Simple. Even traditional.

And perfect.

“Margot picked it.”

My gaze came to his.

Yes.

Totally perfect.

His fingers holding my hand shifted so they covered mine totally, his hold so strong, the stone had to be digging into his palm.

“You go to that reading with my rock on your finger and my promise to love and keep you for the rest of our fucking lives in your heart, and whatever happens, fuck them. You’re loved. You’re looked after. And you got family,” he declared.

The ring was traditional.

The proposal wasn’t.

But it was Toby.

Before I even knew it was happening, the tears were sliding down my cheeks.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Did you ask a question?” I asked back huskily.

“Baby, every man wants to hear the word,” he whispered. “Are you gonna marry me?”

My man wanted it?

He’d get it.

“Yes, Toby.”

He pressed my hand to his chest, his other one going in my hair and he bent to kiss me.

He left my hand pressed to his chest when he used that arm to lift me up and he entered the bed, taking me with him.

I wrapped my legs around him and he put us both in bed, necking, and then more necking with some added groping, and some more necking with some serious groping, which led to traditional missionary making love.

I came before Toby.

Toby came kissing me.

He cleaned me up after and brought my pajamas from where I’d put them on the hooks in the closet.

I pulled mine on.

He pulled his on.

And we fell asleep in his treehouse room with my mom over the mantel, smiling in the moonlight.

“We’re here,” I said into the phone as Toby parked his brand new, dark blue, twin-cab Ram in a visitor’s parking spot at my grandmother’s attorney’s office.

I didn’t question the truck.

The state of the Gamble Brothers the last week had been at best, uneasy, at worst, downright crabby.

This was because my sister, too, had received a letter. And after some discussion at the Food Festival with Deanna and Charlie, and more discussion at Margot and Dave’s, the decision was to go.

So on Monday, Izzy called to share we would be there.

And was told our father would be there too.

Neither brother wanted us anywhere near him.

But the day after we found out he’d be there, Toby’s old Chevy was parked in the space beside the house, which had been guest parking until then and that blue Ram was in the garage.

Apparently, he didn’t want to roll up to a meeting where my father would be in an old Chevy or a yellow Ford Focus.

I didn’t care what we drove there in.

He did.

It was a man thing.

So I also kept my mouth shut.

I again kept my mouth shut when I got home the day before and there were three boxes on the dining room table.

“Those’re from Margot,” Toby grunted (incidentally, the “uneasy” to “crabby” scale of Gamble Brothers’ moods deteriorated as Friday got closer).

In one box was a dress from Saks, red, cross body, had a collar that was short on one side but dripped low to a lapel on the other and had long sleeves with deep cuffs. It also had a somewhat low neckline.

It was a feminine, sexy version of a power suit.

The next box was from Neimans, and in it was a wicked cool, zebra print clutch with a handle.

The last box was from Nordstrom, and in it was a pair of shoes with red spike heels, black, ultra-thin straps with little silver balls on the ends that wound around my ankles, and just the toe was covered, mostly with crystal clear plastic with a diamond of zebra print at the toe.

They were sexy as fuck, stylish as hell and totally me.

So the message was clear.

Toby was not rolling up, delivering his woman to the meeting in anything but a badass, expensive truck, and Margot was not allowing me to go in there without armor.

I didn’t fight that either.

It was their way of taking care of family.

She’d tried to do the same thing with Izzy, but surprisingly, Johnny had put his foot down about Iz going to the meeting in some dress that was one of his favorites and the nude Louboutins he’d bought her.

Knock me over with a feather that Johnny would demand to have a say in Izzy’s Estranged Grandma’s Last Will and Testament Reading Outfit.

But it was a big deal to him for some reason.

Margot advised her to do what made Johnny feel less edgy and told her to keep what she’d bought her and just wear it whenever.

I partially understood all of this from a relatively deep perspective, what with Sierra’s joyful visit just fading from memory.

And I was finding I needed to stealthily soothe Toby and tread carefully, rather than the other way around.

Because what I did not understand was what it was like to be a Gamble Brother and know what they knew about what our father did to our mother during their marriage, and what she and her girls endured after it, all this in a time they did not know us and thus could do dick about it.

But it hurt us. It marked us. It hurt our mother. And marked her.

And that was the crux of the situation.

It was highly unlikely our dad was going to pull anything in an attorney’s office.

But honest to Christ, if this was another time, I had no doubt the men would go in wearing steel, immediately throw down a glove, and then swords would be drawn.

This wasn’t caveman shit.

This was something else entirely.

And since I didn’t have a penis or Gamble blood in my veins, I did not entirely understand it.

But I was beginning to understand Toby’s explanation of active and passive protection and the struggle to be passive when they wanted desperately to be active.

They could not walk in there and tear him apart.

And it was driving them crazy.

“Call me the minute you get back on the road,” Margot ordered in my ear after I shared we’d made it to the offices.

Her voice sounded stronger than it had in weeks.

“I will, Margot. Promise.”

“How’s Tobias?”

She was whispering even though Toby couldn’t hear her.

I turned and watched Toby throw his door open so hard it was a wonder it didn’t disconnect and fly across the parking lot.

“Not good,” I whispered back after he’d angled out and slammed it with such force the whole truck shook.

I did not even think of opening my own door. His head might explode.

“I gotta go,” I told her. “Call you as soon as we’re on the road. And by the way, I look awesome. Love you.”

“Love you too, Adeline.”

We disconnected just as Toby tore open my door.

I looked into his eyes. “I’m okay, baby.”

He said nothing. He just took my hand and helped me down.

He slammed my door after I cleared it, and his fingers around mine almost hurt as he forged us toward the doors to the office building. Though he did not walk fast. Wherever he was at in his head, he had a mind to me in a dress and heels.

He opened the door for me and I went from the warm Kentucky sun into the cool modulated air of a very nice foyer.

As I knew, since my sister had texted, Johnny and Izzy were there.

I then understood the dress.

Navy. Short sleeves. A sheer panel above her breasts. One above her knees. It fit her perfectly, was cute, smart and professional with a hint of sexy.

Totally Izzy.

It was the lipstick red of the soles of her shoes, the diamonds at her throat and ears and her huge engagement ring that was in your face.

Johnny was wearing a dark-blue suit, light-blue shirt, no tie.

He looked handsome.

Toby was wearing a black suit, smoke-gray shirt, no tie.

He looked hot.

The two brothers glowered at each other then Johnny moved to hit the button on the elevator.

Izzy gave big eyes to me.

I reached out and took her hand.

We held on.

Johnny returned and took his woman’s other hand then he reached out and clasped Toby around the back of the neck. Toby did the same thing to Johnny.

We were in a huddle.

It was sweet, cute and made me want to start laughing and burst out crying, both at the same time.

Man, I wished my mother could have seen that.

“You can back out or walk out, anytime,” Johnny rumbled.

“We’re fine, honey,” Izzy said softly.

Johnny scowled at her.

The elevator dinged.

We got in it.

Once we hit the attorney’s offices, it wasn’t lost on any of us our grandmother died with money. Martin, Sandberg and Deats were no slouches, my bosses had it going on. My reception desk and the area around it kicked ass. I loved working there, and not because there wasn’t a smock in sight.

But just the bouquet of fresh flowers that adorned the long thin table under the firm masthead in that reception area probably cost as much as all the flowers for Johnny and Izzy’s wedding.

After we shared we were there with the receptionist, it didn’t take long for an elegant, slim man to come out and tell us he was taking us back.

Thankfully, as he walked us back through more fresh flowers, glistening wood and glassed in offices, he stated, “We’re aware there’s been a long-standing estrangement between Mr. Aubrey and his daughters that was a result of Mr. Aubrey’s treatment of his wife who has passed.” Pause. “Truly sorry for your loss.” Pause. “We hope we’ve arranged things so this can go quickly, smoothly and as comfortably for you all as a situation like this can. To that end, Mr. Aubrey and his wife have been asked to arrive earlier and are here. They’ll be seated across the room from your party.”

I shot Iz a relieved look.

She gave it back.

The men still weren’t feeling it.

“They’ve also been asked not to approach you, unless you invite it,” the man finished.

“Obliged,” Johnny grunted.

Toby said nothing.

Ten more feet.

And it happened.

The windows to the conference room we’d be using were right at our sides.

I knew it was the room we’d be using because I looked that way.

And he was standing, tall, straight, much older.

So handsome.

Even now.

By his side was a slim, and like Sierra, willowy woman with shining brunette hair, apparently age-appropriate to him, which was a shocker, so she probably dyed that hair.

She was not in a power suit or a cute, sexy, professional dress that looked tailored for her.

She looked like a chic hippie in a pretty rosy-pink lace dress with a tiered skirt, dangly earrings and lots of necklaces and bracelets.

My mother would have worn that outfit.

If she could have afforded it.

Her eyes came to the windows and her face paled.

So his eyes came to the windows.

They hit Izzy and shifted to me.

And they filled with sorrow as his expression filled with longing.

“Oh God,” I whispered.

Iz saw it too, I knew it because I heard her whimper.

It was a wonder we didn’t get whiplash with how fast Johnny and Toby put a halt to our movement.

“Can they do this separate from him?” Johnny demanded to know.

“I’m sorry, the only stipulation Mrs. Aubrey included was that her will could not be read, or enforced, unless all three parties who stood to inherit were in attendance at the reading,” the elegant man replied.

And he did sound sorry.

“Goddamn shit,” Toby cursed under his breath.

I squeezed his hand tight. “We’re good.”

He glowered at me.

“We’re good, honey,” I lied.

“Eliza?” Johnny prompted.

“I’m okay, häschen.”

Toby looked to the elegant man, who had probably introduced himself, but I hadn’t caught it.

“Let’s get this done,” he ground out.

The man nodded and moved us to the door.

Then we were in.

“Barry, all the parties are here. Eliza and Adeline Forrester and their fiancés, Johnathon and Tobias Gamble.”

“Right,” an older, less slender, no less elegant man said.

He was positioned in the middle at the long side of the conference table with another, much younger man sitting next to him.

“Thanks, Jason,” Barry went on to our guy, getting up and coming our way, hand held out while Jason left the room. “Eliza, Adeline. Barry Frischman.”

“Sir,” Izzy said, shaking.

I just shook.

Both of us, I noticed, were avoiding looking down the table.

“Gentlemen,” he nodded to Johnny and Toby.

He got chin lifts.

“Please take your seats. This won’t take long,” he bid.

Four, rolling swivel chairs were arranged for us, crowded around the narrow end of the table.

Toby held my seat as I sat.

Johnny held Izzy’s.

They sat.

Barry turned and looked down at the young man at his side. “Please make note all parties are here, Andrew. And let’s get started.”

He also took his seat.

Toby reached out for my hand.

I held on tightly.

And I kept my eyes glued firmly to Barry Frischman.

“With sensitivity to time and circumstances, I’ll just get down to it,” Barry declared. He put on some reading glasses, picked up a piece of paper and launched in, “I, Helena June Aubrey, residing at twelve Doncaster Way, Carlisle, Kentucky, declare this to be my Will and I revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made.”

I reached out to Izzy who was seated beside me.

We also held hands.

Tightly.

It didn’t last long.

She gave everything she had, and there was a lot, to Harlan “Harley” Aubrey, our father.

Except for two million dollars, which the estate would pay inheritance taxes on, and it would be split equally between Eliza Anne Forrester Aubrey and Adeline June Forrester Aubrey.

Our true legal names.

Mom had never been able to divorce Dad nor had she had the money to affect a name change for any of us.

Like Lance Gamble, she’d died officially married.

I hadn’t heard those names in years.

And finally, there was the kicker.

A further three million dollars was bequeathed. Money that would be held in trust with Adeline June Forrester Aubrey as executor and given to Brooklyn True Flynn on his twenty-fifth birthday.

My hands were spasming in both Toby’s and Izzy’s.

Toby held strong.

Izzy’s was rippling right back.

“And that’s it,” Barry declared, dropping the papers and taking off his glasses to look side to side. “Our firm, as executor, will make all arrangements. This should be concluded by the end of next week.”

He stood but did it with his eyes Izzy and my way.

“June asked me, with respect, to request of you, also with respect, to allow your father a moment of your time. It was June’s wish, and obviously mine that you know if this is something you feel you cannot do, you may leave at your convenience. Also, if you’d like to stay, Jason can take the necessary information from you now so that we can arrange for the transfers and finalize setting up the trust for Brooklyn. If you need to be on your way, we’ll phone you. Now,” he shoved his chin in his throat, glanced at the man who had been sitting next to him, and finished on a mutter, “we’ll take our leave.”

With that, the other guy got up and they started taking their leave.

Apparently, we were going to take our leave too, because Toby pulling me from my chair and Johnny pulling Iz from hers tore our hands apart.

“Please don’t.”

A woman’s voice. Soft. Imploring.

The wife.

God, God, God.

“Those were my words,” Johnny returned.

“Honey,” Iz said softly.

“Let them go, Fonda.”

Our dad.

God, God, God.

His voice.

Even speaking, it was like a song.

I’d always so totally got how Mom fell and did it hard.

Totally.

Toby started tugging me to the door.

“We have no children,” the woman called urgently. “He’s arranged to leave you everything too.”

My head turned to look at her.

“Except for, um . . . what he’s leaving to me,” she finished.

God, God, shit.

Johnny was out the door, dragging Iz behind him. My sister was almost through it, and we were on their heels.

“I’m sorry.”

I stopped dead, Toby’s arm reaching both our arms long because he didn’t until he couldn’t keep going because I was dug in.

Izzy was dug in too.

I looked to him.

My father.

The man I once called Daddy, and sometimes when he was in the mood to deserve it, did it happily.

“It haunted me, tortured me, what I did to my Daphne.” He shook his head. “You don’t care. You shouldn’t care. I got help. You don’t care about that either. And you shouldn’t. I left you alone. I was in no state to be with you girls and I thought you were better off without me. Daphne would take care of you. Daphne lived for you girls. I learned later, when I went looking for her, I learned I shouldn’t have. She was . . .” he swallowed.

“When she passed, it tore him apart,” the woman put in.

“Adeline,” Toby growled, pulling on my hand.

“I know you can’t forgive me, I’m not going to ask. I can’t ask her—” His voice got lost in being choked. “I no longer can ask her to forgive me,” he forced out. Then anguish filled his face. “Jesus Christ, you both look just like her. Just like her. She was so . . . I’m just glad for Daphne you look just like her and got nothing from me.”

“Adeline,” Toby snarled, and an equally scary warning noise was coming from Johnny.

The woman, Fonda, held up her hand our way.

“Thank you,” she said. She put that hand to her belly. “Thank you for letting him say those things.”

With that, I was pulled out of the room.

“He apologized,” Toby barked into the cab.

“Oh my,” Margot said through the dash.

I did not call Margot when we were on the road.

Toby did.

Through his truck.

“Said he got help,” Toby went on.

“This sounds . . . not bad,” Dave, since Margot was on speakerphone so he could listen in, shared carefully.

“Got balls to even look at ’em,” Toby ground out.

“Tobias—” Margot started to chide.

“Yeah, sorry I beat the shit outta your mom. Sorry you saw her all fucked up. Sorry your sister actually saw me do that shit. Sorry you lived without or made do for, I don’t know, basically you’re whole fuckin’ life. I got help. All good now. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to forgive me. My mom just left you money and I’m gonna do that too, so I’ll feel better even though I can’t erase warmed up soup and bullies bein’ assholes at school and all the other shit you had to eat because of me,” Toby said sarcastically ending on a very not sarcastic, “The manipulative fuck.”

No one said anything.

Until Dave did.

“Son, maybe best you come right to us when you get back to Matlock.”

“I’ll get that, David,” Margot could be heard murmuring as well as a phone ringing in the background, “Probably Eliza. Or Johnathon.”

“Tobe,” David called. “Did you hear me?”

“We gotta get Brooklyn from Deanna and Charlie,” Toby reminded him.

“If Deanna and Charlie want to come over too, they’re welcome, as always,” Dave replied.

“Right.”

“See you in coupla hours, son.”

“Later, Dave,” Toby said.

“’Bye, Dave,” I said.

“Goodbye, child.”

Toby disconnected us.

I gave him time.

Then I urged, “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want that fuck anywhere near Brooklyn,” he declared.

I stared out the windshield.

That was the first father demand he’d ever made.

Although I was uncertain about how I felt about what just happened, I wasn’t uncertain about that.

I loved it.

“You’re an adult, you can choose,” he continued. “I’m at your side, your back, there to listen to you, whatever, you accept that olive branch him and his woman were trying to shove in your face. But you give that bastard a shot, there’s gonna be a long fuckin’ discussion before he gets near Brooklyn, and he does not see you without me. Neither does she.”

“At this point, Brooks has no grandparents, but he does have three million dollars,” I stated cautiously.

“Then who the fuck are Margot and Dave?” Toby demanded.

Shit.

“I mean of blood, not of the heart,” I amended quickly.

Toby said nothing.

I gave him more time.

Then I said, “People change.”

Toby made no reply.

“He didn’t start it, she did,” I reminded him. “He didn’t try to waylay us. He just . . .”

I pressed my lips together thinking about what “he just . . .”

Daphne would forgive.

If the apology is true, my beautiful queens, a genuinely kind heart is an open heart you never close against anybody.

“Government cheese,” Toby ground out over my mother’s voice in my head.

I closed my eyes.

“Johnny showed me the pictures of you, in the tack room at their place,” Toby told me.

I opened my eyes.

“The pictures of you three and the horse,” he carried on. “It was after I showed him the ring Margot and I got you. We made a pact, Johnny and me. Never again, Addie.”

I looked to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Your day out with your mom when you were kids. Plastic shoes. Home-done haircuts.”

I wanted to smile because I remembered those pictures.

And that day.

We’d had a blast.

“You and your sister will never suffer again, Adeline. Not ever fucking again.”

Oh God.

My man.

“Tobe,” I said softly.

“Never again, Addie. Especially not at the hands of that fucking man.”

“We were happy.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m a millionaire now,” I reminded him.

Well . . . ish.

Did one million make you a millionaire?

I didn’t ask that of Toby.

Though I wasn’t done speaking.

But Toby got there before me.

“You were a millionaire when you walked in there, Adeline. My ring, my bed, our kid, our money.”

You could hear the hiss of breath that I took in at that.

“But that’s now,” Toby said. “Six months ago, you couldn’t afford Christmas presents for your baby.”

“What I mean is, I’m a millionaire now, and so are you, but what I said on Christmas day stands. And my mother taught me that. You, our kid, our dog, our bed, and well, now . . . our cat, and I’m good. It’s always been that way. All I needed was Mom and Izzy. Then Brooks.” I reached out to wrap my hand around his thigh. “I’ve always been rich, Toby. You know what my mom would ask when we were doing Sunday facials or sitting under the stars or eating some crazy recipe she made of lentils that tasted great and we’d be giggling and all happy?”

“What’d she ask?”

“‘I wonder what the poor people are doing?’”

His hand covered the back of mine, his fingers curling around.

“That was Daphne,” I said softly. “And I’m Daphne. And I have Brooks and you, Izzy, Johnny, Margot, Dave. Do you think anything can hurt me? Do you think Daphne ever let him really hurt me? I grew up the richest girl in the world. And that shit just keeps coming.”

“Granite and steel,” he muttered.

I wasn’t sure I got him.

I still said, “Yeah.”

He drove.

After a while, I looked forward and rode.

But I didn’t move my hand.

There was a long silence.

Toby broke it.

“If he or his wife give it a shot, you gonna let him in?”

“I’m gonna talk with Izzy and Margot, and then you, and decide.”

“All right, baby.”

He again drove.

And I rode.

I broke that silence.

“Thanks for coming with me, honey.”

His hand gave mine a firm squeeze.

“Shut it, Lollipop.”

I stared out the windshield.

And I smiled.

Toby

Two Weeks and One Day Later . . .

The women were seated, huddled, two blonde heads only the men who loved them could tell apart, a stylish black hairdo and a head covered in a silk scarf.

The men were not seated.

All of them were standing, shoulders against the wall, arms crossed on their chests, in a row.

Johnny, Dave, Toby and Charlie.

Brooks was outside with a sixteen-year-old named Lauren who he’d fallen in love with during their occasional times together the last three months.

Izzy’s cell on speakerphone, sitting on Margot and Dave’s coffee table, a phone that could not be seen due to the women hovering over it, was ringing.

A woman’s voice answered.

“Hello? Yes? Is this Eliza and Adeline?”

She sounded nervous.

Shit.

“Yes, uh . . . Fonda, it’s me and Addie,” Izzy replied.

Shit.

“Okay, okay, well . . . hi.”

“Hi,” Iz said.

“Hi,” Addie said.

“Okay, well, we really weren’t expecting . . . I mean, the lawyers called last week to share you wanted contact, so we had time. But we so weren’t expecting . . . I mean, it was such a surprise, we’re . . .” She stopped babbling and stated, “We’re very happy you reached out. Your father is very happy that you girls reached out.”

A noise rolled up Toby’s throat.

Addie’s hair skidded across her back as she looked over her shoulder at him.

Love you, she mouthed. It’s okay.

He grunted.

Through this, Fonda was talking.

“He’s . . . I hope you can imagine, he’s very nervous. He’s not even in the room, he’s so freaked out.”

“We’re nervous too,” Addie turned back to tell her.

“I don’t know what to say,” Fonda admitted. “I don’t want to offend you girls in any way. It would be bad if I said something stupid and unintentionally . . .” She trailed off then instantly started back in, “But, well, Harley . . . he’s been lost. Since I met him, just lost. Lost without you. Lost without your mom. Even with me, he . . . I’m not sure, well, God, this is so hard.”

“Just speak your words, Fonda,” Izzy urged gently.

“Okay,” Fonda replied hesitantly. “I’m just not sure since it’s been so long that he could get used to being found.” Her voice dropped. “He has your picture. A picture of you girls with your mom. He carries it in his wallet. He carries it everywhere. As long as I’ve known him, he’s had that picture. And I’ve known him twenty years.”

“Motherfucker,” Johnny said under his breath.

Fortunately, he did it low enough none of the women looked to him.

That was none but Margot, who lifted her squinty eyes to Johnny in a clear communication of shut the fuck up.

Without the F-word, obviously, but with the emphasis it provided.

“He loved her,” Fonda shared quietly. “He loved her very, very much.”

Motherfucker.

“That couldn’t have been easy on you,” Addie noted.

“I didn’t mind, she was beautiful. You were beautiful. You are beautiful,” Fonda said. Then again quiet, “It’s not bad to have a man who can love like that.”

Fantastic.

The woman sounded sincere.

“It was issues with his dad,” she told the sisters. “I know that doesn’t excuse it. I’d never try to excuse it. Harley either. He definitely wouldn’t. But it was issues with his dad. His father wanted him to take over the hardware stores. Only child, a son, he was far from happy Harley wanted to be a musician. Thought he was a momma’s boy and shared he thought that, well, really frequently. He felt pressure to make something of himself. Pressure to prove his dad wrong. And he was . . . he was young and feeling things he couldn’t . . . God, it sounds like I’m making excuses when I’m not. I’m really not. I just . . . he might not tell you this because he won’t want you to think . . . I just thought you might . . . you should know.”

Margot sat back.

There it was.

And it began.

Shit.

“We’re glad you told us,” Addie said to the phone.

“When your mom left, took you girls, he got into booze and drugs. It was after going to AA when he learned he needed anger management too. Though I think he already kinda knew that because he never . . . not with me . . .” Fonda didn’t finish that. She shared, “And he did that. Anger management. Now he’s been clean for ten years and he . . . well, he owns a club. Here in Memphis. He plays with his boys Friday nights but mostly he finds acts he thinks have talent and gives them a shot. He’s, well . . . his place is well-known. Justice Lonesome has played his club. And the Blue Moon Gypsies shot a video there.”

And fantastic a-fuckin’-gain.

The dad sounded like he genuinely had his shit together.

Deanna sat back and ran her hand over her pregnant belly.

And there it was again.

“Ah, hell,” Charlie muttered.

“Can we . . . can we, do you think we could speak to him?” Izzy asked.

“Yes. Yesyesyes,” Fonda said hurriedly. “Let me . . . I’ll take you with me to find him.”

Iz looked to Addie.

Addie looked to Izzy.

“Just a second,” Fonda could be heard from the phone.

Then nothing except the sisters shifting to sit closer together on the couch.

“Okay, girls, he’s here. Here he is. Right here,” Fonda blathered then could be heard saying, “Take it, Harley.”

A throat clearing and then a melodious, deep, “Girls?”

Izzy and Addie’s heads listed until they were resting against each other.

“Dad?” Addie called.

“Is that . . . ?”

“Addie.”

“I’m here too,” Izzy said.

“Izzy,” he whispered. “Um . . .” another clearing of the throat, “how’re you two girls doin’?”

“We’re fine, Dad,” Addie told him.

“David?” Margot called softly. “I need a martini, my love.”

“On it,” David said and took off.

“Charlie?” Deanna called, also softly. “I need a martini, my love.”

“How about a chilled Perrier?” Charlie asked.

Deanna rolled her eyes.

Charlie took off.

“Are you girls . . . not alone?” Harley Aubrey’s voice came from the phone.

“No, we’re with family,” Izzy told him.

“Understandable,” he said. “And good. Good. That’s good. Uh . . . is, um . . . is my grandson there?”

“He’s outside with the babysitter,” Addie shared.

“Yeah. Okay.” His voice was getting thicker. “Okay, girls, hold on.” Then a distant, hoarse, “Shit.”

And Fonda was back.

“Your dad needs a sec, girls. Is that okay?” she asked.

“It’s okay,” Izzy said.

“Totally okay,” Addie said.

“So, well . . . while Harley sorts himself out, tell me about you. You girls sure dress real nice and those men you were with . . . I just, you know, I’m older, and um, well, I guess your stepmother, but . . . uh, wow.”

Izzy and Addie started laughing.

Goddamn fuck.

They were gonna have to put up with that ass.

He looked to Johnny.

Johnny looked to him.

“Beer?” Tobe asked.

“Bourbon,” Johnny said.

“I’ll get it, you stay,” Toby offered.

Johnny nodded.

“I’ll take some bourbon too,” Deanna called.

That was probably the only thing that could make Toby smile.

He gave that smile to Deanna.

Then he moved to get bourbon as well as wine for Addie and Izzy.

Because he reckoned, twenty-five years to catch up on, this was gonna take a while.

“So,” he heard Fonda say as he walked out, “two sisters, two brothers, I think that’s all kinds of sweet. When Harley found out, you know, when June’s attorneys told us who would be coming with you to the reading, he was worried about you two, you know, ’cause he just kinda does that, but I told him . . .”

Yeah.

Fuck.

This was gonna take a while.

Probably years.

And yeah, they were gonna have to put up with that ass.

But at least Fonda sounded like she was cool.

And Harley Aubrey sounded like he’d spent that last twenty-five years walking through hell.

Which meant at the end of Addie and Izzy’s journey, they could come to terms with the fact they’d had Daphne, they’d had each other, they’d had love, their place, their people, their family.

With as little as they had, they’d had it all.

They had it better than their father.

Far better.

And the thing of it was, they knew that all along.

And so did Harley Aubrey.

So Tobe was actually feeling sorry for the guy.

Yeah.

Shit.