Tristan
I sit out on the balcony of my hotel room in Paris. I just got back from the hotel gym and am going in to the office this afternoon. I’m still working on the due diligence for Anderson Media. I want the deal closed early this week if possible.
The sooner I move on to new things, the better. I need to drag myself off the floor here. I can’t go on like this.
I just want it over with.
My room phone rings, and I frown. Who would be calling me in the hotel? Nobody ever does. I walk inside and answer. “Bonjour.”
“Mr. Miles?”
“Oui.”
“Vous avez des visiteurs.” (Translation: You have some visitors.)
I frown. “Qui est-ce?” (Translation: Who is it?)
“Juste une minute.” (Translation: Just a minute.) He passes the phone to someone.
“Tris?”
I frown and screw up my face in confusion . . . what? “Harry?”
My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “I’ll be right down.” I run to the door and hit the elevator button.
They’re here.
I watch the dial over the doors, and I tap my foot. Come on . . . come on.
The doors open, and I rush out and look around to see Harry and Patrick sitting on the lounge waiting for me. They look up and see me, and both come running at me at a million miles per minute. They nearly bowl me over as they grab a leg each to hug.
I put my arms around them and hold them tight. “Where’s Mom?” I whisper into their hair.
“We ran away.”
My mouth falls open in horror. “Your mother doesn’t know you’re here?” I gasp.
They both shake their heads. “Nope.”
“Oh my God.” I take out my phone. “She’s going to be fucking frantic.” I call Claire.
“Tristan,” she cries in a panic. “They’ve run away.”
“They just turned up here,” I stammer.
“What?” she gasps.
“Patrick and Harrison just turned up at my hotel in Paris.”
“What the hell?” she gasps. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“They’re okay, they’re okay,” I hear her tell someone.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“In the police station. Oh my God, Tristan,” she cries in relief. “Oh my God. It’s okay, Fletcher. They’re safe,” she says.
I flick the peak of Harry’s cap. “You’re in so much trouble,” I mouth.
“I don’t care,” he mouths back with attitude.
“I’m on my way,” she stammers. “Fletcher and I will catch the first flight out.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Tris.” She hangs up.
I look down at the two boys as they stare up at me. “What are you two thinking?” I snap. “Your mother has been frantic,” I whisper as I gesture to the elevator. “You two are in so much trouble I can’t even believe it,” I whisper angrily.
They both smile up at me, and my heart constricts. I bend and take them both in my arms. “You little shits,” I murmur into their hair.
“We came to get you,” Patrick whispers into my shoulder. “We want you as our dad. We don’t care what Mom says. It’s up to us, anyway.”
I grip them tighter in my arms, and I could just burst into tears. We hold on to each other tightly for a long time, and I’m quite sure everyone around is watching.
I take their hands, and we get into the elevator. “Do you know how dangerous that was? How the hell did you get on a plane, anyway?” I ask.
“With your credit card.”
My mouth falls open. “You stole my credit card?” I gasp. “Oh my God. Harrison,” I scold him. “You are unbelievable.”
“No, I borrowed it. It was in Mom’s drawer.”
The credit card I had given to Claire for emergencies. The one she refused to use.
“You are grounded for life,” I whisper as I hold his hand.
He smiles cheekily up at me, and I smirk down at him.
I fucking love this kid.
We get to my hotel suite, and I flop onto the lounge. They both sit nearly on top of me. They tell me how they lied to Bob and to Claire and sneaked out and caught the train to the airport and then somehow got on a plane without being stopped. They tell me every single detail about their last fifteen hours, and I can hardly believe it.
Patrick’s little arms are tight around my neck as we converse, and Harrison’s hand is on my thigh. They are animated and cutting each other off and so proud of themselves for actually pulling it off.
“Why did you come here?” I ask as I look between them.
“Because we love you,” Harry says. “And we’re staying with you until you come home . . . and you can’t make us leave. You’re our dad, and dads belong with their kids.”
I pull them close and hold them tight. “I love you too,” I whisper into their hair.
My heart bursts with love for these boys.
I smile. It seems all this lying makes for two sweaty kids. “And you two need a shower. You stink.”
They moan.
“Where’s Fletch?” I ask as I lead them into the bathroom.
“He wouldn’t leave Mom alone for the weekend.”
I smile proudly. Always looking out for his mom. “That’s my boy.”
It’s just now 3:40 a.m., and the text I’ve been waiting for arrives from Claire.
Just pulling up at the hotel now.
She’s here.
I text back.
Concierge knows you are coming,
A reply bounces back.
See you soon.
I begin to pace; my heart is in my throat. Claire’s going to flip her fucking lid.
My God, that was so dangerous, what the boys did. Just wait till I get ahold of the airline responsible.
I take deep breaths. I’m nervous to see her.
It’s been a long, lonely, and hellish few weeks.
The door lock clicks, and the door slowly opens. Fletcher walks in, and I pull him in for a hug. Then I see Claire, and my heart drops.
She’s distraught, in tears, and pale. She looks like she’s lost a lot of weight.
“Baby,” I whisper.
She screws her face into tears, and I take her in my arms. She cries against my shoulder as I hold her tight. “Shh, they’re okay,” I whisper into her hair. “They’re asleep. It’s okay.” I lead her by the hand into the bedroom, and she kisses both their foreheads as they sleep.
“I’m going to kill those two knuckleheads,” Fletcher whispers.
“Get in line,” I mutter as I watch Claire sob over them.
I turn to Fletcher and pull him into my arms again. “Good boy for staying with your mother,” I whisper. I slap him on the back.
“Where am I sleeping?” he asks. “I’m exhausted.”
“In the room next door.”
“Good night, Mom,” Fletcher whispers.
Claire wraps her arms around him. “Thank you so much, Fletch. Good night, sweetheart.”
I close the boys’ door, and we walk out into the living room. I’m waiting for her onslaught.
I turn toward her. “Claire—”
“I love you,” she cuts me off. Her eyes are filled with tears, the pain in them unbearable for me to look at. “Whatever you want me to do,” she whispers. “Wherever you want me to live. I’ll do it.”
Her eyes search mine.
“Just don’t leave me again.” She sobs. “I can’t stand it. I can’t do this without you, Tris.” Her chest heaves with tears, and it’s obvious she’s been crying a long time. “Please don’t leave me again,” she begs in a whisper.
“Baby,” I whisper as I pull her close. I’ve never seen her like this. “I’m not. I promise. I love you. We can do it your way.” I hold her tight. “As long as I’m with you, it will be okay. I don’t need papers; it’s okay.”
For a long time, she stays and cries in my arms. I hate seeing her like this. She’s completely broken. She’s usually always so strong. “Come on. Shower.” I lead her into the bathroom and turn the hot water on. I slowly undress her.
She stands before me, weak and fragile. So not like my strong Claire.
My heart constricts at how much weight she’s lost. I walk her in under the water, and her sad eyes hold mine. “Can you get in with me?”
I take my clothes off and step in, and we hold each other under the hot water. Her head is on my chest, my arms wrapped around her small frame.
This isn’t like our normal showers together. This isn’t about sex; it’s about love.
My love . . . for her.
“I love you,” I whisper.
She screws her face up into my neck. “Don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t,” I promise her.
She clings to me. This is going to take a while to get over.
For both of us. But she’s here. My family is here with me.
We will get through this.
We have to.
I lie on my side and watch Claire sleep. She’s utterly exhausted.
It’s all caught up with her—the stress at work, our breakup, and then the boys going missing have her so wound up that she couldn’t stop crying last night. Her body simply gave out. Enough was enough, and in the end, I gave her two sleeping pills so that she could finally relax enough to fall asleep.
I hear an argument from the other room, and I smile. Who knew that the sound of early-morning bickering could sound so good? I get up and go to investigate.
“I don’t care if you didn’t bring any other shorts,” Fletcher snaps to Harry. “You’re not wearing mine. No wonder I couldn’t find any of my things to pack—they’re all in your suitcase.”
“Shh, Mom’s asleep,” I whisper as I walk into the room. “What’s going on?”
“Harry stole all of my clothes,” Fletcher whispers angrily.
“I did not.” He looks to me. “All my shorts don’t fit me anymore.”
“It’s too early for this.” I sigh. “Give Fletcher back his shorts. I’ll buy you new ones today, Harrison.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” Fletcher snaps. “Why does he get new shorts?”
“Can I have new shorts?” Patrick asks from bed. “I’ve been growing lately, and I need all-new clothes.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop it. You have not grown.”
I look among the bickering boys, and a broad smile crosses my face. I’m actually grateful to be hearing them fight . . . who would have ever thought? “I’ll buy you all new clothes today,” I reply.
Their eyes widen.
“But right now, I want you to get dressed, go downstairs to the restaurant, and have breakfast,” I say. “Eat something healthy from the buffet.”
“Are you coming?” Patrick asks.
“I’m going to stay here with Mom. You’ll be fine with Fletcher. Don’t go anywhere else.” I point to the two troublemakers. “You come straight back up to the room when you’re done. I mean it; you two are seriously grounded for life. Nowhere without an adult. Ever.”
Fletcher gives a smug smile to his two brothers. He loves that I class him as an adult.
I make myself a coffee, and they shower and mess around, and about half an hour later they go downstairs for breakfast.
Claire
I hear the front door shut behind the boys, and I call out, “Tris?” I’ve been waiting for them to leave. I knew if I got up before they went, I would have to go to breakfast with them, and I want some time.
He appears at the door. “Hey.” He’s wearing nothing but navy boxer shorts. His beautiful body is on display.
I pull the covers back in an invitation.
He smiles and locks the door and climbs in and pulls me into his arms. “Are you all right?” he whispers.
I close my eyes as I lean against his chest. “God, I’m sorry about last night. I was a basket case.”
“Don’t be. You are so stressed; I’m worried about you.”
I hug him tighter. Feels so good to be safe in his big strong arms.
He takes my face in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me before about Anderson Media being in trouble?”
I run my hand down over his washboard stomach. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Stop it. We need to talk about this.” He pushes my hand away. “So . . . you took it all on yourself?”
“Tris.” I sigh. “From day one you have been my knight in shining armor. Just for once I wanted you to be proud of me.”
His eyes search mine. “I am proud of you; how could you ever think otherwise?”
I drop my head as sadness rolls in. “Because I’m not proud of myself for losing Wade’s company, and I don’t know how you could ever be.”
He pushes the hair back from my face as his eyes hold mine. “It’s your company too, Claire. Don’t forget that. Wade may have started it, but you have flown the flag for five years alone.”
Five years alone . . . just hearing those words brings tears to my eyes, and I blink to try to hide them.
I’ve felt so alone.
“Baby.” Tristan pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “Let me in, Claire. I don’t want you to have to go through anything alone anymore.” He takes my face in his hands and stares into my eyes. “Okay?”
I nod through tears.
His lips take mine with a tenderness that rips my heart wide open, and I tear up again.
I’ve missed my man.
I slide my hand down his boxer shorts and run my fingers through his pubic hair.
His eyes hold mine, and I take him in my hand and slowly stroke him. I feel the blood rushing around his body, his cock hardening, and I stroke him again.
Our eyes are locked.
This is when we are at our best. Alone in bed, under the covers. Nobody here but us and the love that we share. “I need you,” I murmur.
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me slowly. His tongue does a seductive dance against mine, waking my dormant body from its sleep.
I continue to slowly stroke him as he gets harder and harder. Our lips are locked. God, how did I think I could ever live without him?
No wonder my heart was broken. He makes it beat.
His fingers find the spot between my legs. “Open,” he breathes against my lips.
I roll onto my back and spread my legs, and he leans up onto his elbow beside me.
He slides two thick fingers deep inside me. My back arches in pleasure. “That’s it,” he breathes. “I know how to relax you, baby.”
His lips slowly take mine as he begins to pump me. The ripples of pleasure begin to build. I put my hands on his forearm as he works me, his movement getting rougher and rougher.
His dark eyes hold mine, and the bed begins to hit the wall with force.
Tristan Miles is the king of finger fucking. He gives it to me so good before we even get to the intercourse part. He has so much strength in his hand that I have no chance against him. No defense against his skill.
When he has me like this, he owns me.
Who am I kidding? He owns me wherever we are.
He pushes my legs back so they are bent against my chest, and he really lets me have it. The sound of my wet body sucking him in echoes throughout the room.
“Mmm,” I moan as he watches me. My eyes are rolled back in my head, and I hover somewhere in subspace. “I need you,” I pant. I grab the back of his head and drag him to me. “Fuck me,” I plead.
With dark eyes, he rises above me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He slides home deep. We both shudder, close to losing control.
We kiss, and it’s slow and tender and moves in time with his body deep inside of mine.
“I missed you,” he murmurs against my lips. I grip him tighter. I can’t believe I nearly lost him.
I bear down and shudder hard. His eyes flutter with fire, and he pulls out and slams back in.
Oh . . . here we go.
He rises above me on straightened arms and begins to pump me with full force. His knees are wide, and my hands are on his behind. I feel him flex as he gets all the way in.
So good . . . so fucking good.
“Fuck,” he growls through gritted teeth. “Knees up.”
I bring my knees up to rest on his shoulders, and his eyes roll back. I smile up at him in wonder. “I love you,” I whisper.
He kisses me aggressively, and then he lets me have it. Both barrels. The bed hits the wall so hard I think he might knock it down. He bites my neck, and I can’t take it. I clench and convulse as I come hard. He holds himself deep as he does the same.
We move together slowly to completely empty his body into mine.
“I missed you,” he whispers.
I hold him tight in my arms. “I missed you too.”
Tristan
We’re back in Long Island now, and I look around at her bedroom and slide my hand up over Claire’s hip as she sleeps. I inhale deeply and smile into her hair.
Today’s the day.
“Morning.” She sleepily sighs.
“I’m getting up, babe.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs with her eyes closed. “Why so early?”
“I’m taking the boys to the expo in New York, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” she replies. Her eyes are firmly shut. “Do you want me to get up to see you off?”
“No, I got it. The boys are already up. I can hear them downstairs. Stay here and sleep in.”
“Okay.” She smiles as she wraps her arms around me and holds me tight. “I love you.”
I kiss her softly. “I love you too.”
I climb out of bed, quickly shower, and make my way downstairs.
The boys are eating their cereal with huge grins on their faces. “Are we ready?” I whisper.
“Yeah, sure are,” whispers Patrick excitedly.
I smile. “Hurry up. We need to go.”
We walk down the mall in New York. It’s snowing, and Christmas carols play loudly throughout the space. Patrick is holding my hand, and Harry and Fletcher are by my side. We’ve been looking for hours. Still nothing I like. “What if we don’t find one?” Harry asks.
“We will.”
“You should have had one made.” Fletcher sighs with a roll of his eyes.
“I didn’t have time.”
The boys and I are looking for an engagement ring for Claire. We’re finally going to be a family.
“When do you need it for?”
“Well, we leave in three weeks for Aspen, and my plan is to ask her on Christmas Eve,” I reply as we walk. “I’ve got everything arranged. Now we just need the ring.” Nerves flutter in my stomach. Finally.
My wife.
I’ve never wanted anything so badly. “Let’s hope she says yes, eh?” I add.
“She better,” Harry snaps as we walk. He takes my hand in his. “She’s going to ruin the entire trip if she doesn’t.”
I chuckle. “Agreed. Two weeks’ skiing in Aspen is going to be very uncomfortable if she says no.”
I smile as I picture our first New Year’s Eve together as a family, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been this excited about a vacation before.
“Of course she’s going to say yes,” Fletcher scoffs. “As if she won’t.”
“I bet she cries.” Harry smiles dreamily, as if imagining her face. “She always cries when good things happen.”
“Remember, not a word to anyone about this.” I widen my eyes at Patrick to remind him specifically.
If anyone is going to blab to Claire, it’s him, but I didn’t want to leave them out of this.
“I know,” he says in disgust. “It’s a big secret.”
“You’ll ruin Christmas if you tell,” Fletcher adds.
“I won’t,” Patrick snaps. “Stop saying I’ll tell, because I won’t.”
We keep walking and walking and walking. “Where is it, Fletch?” I ask.
He checks the directions on his phone. “Just around this corner.”
We walk around the corner, and there it is.
NEW YORK DIAMOND TRADERS
“This is it.”
We all stand still and stare at the sign.
“This makes me nervous,” I whisper.
“Me too,” replies Fletcher. “What if we get one she hates?”
“We won’t.” With renewed determination, I lead the boys into the jewelry store, and we look around.
“Can I help you, sir?” the man behind the counter asks.
“Yes,” Fletcher interrupts. “We’re looking for an engagement ring.”
I smile, proud that he now speaks so confidently to strangers.
“For my mom,” Patrick adds.
“Well.” The salesman’s eyes widen in delight. “How wonderful.”
“Yes, it is.” Harry beams happily as he swings my arm by the hand.
I smile as I watch the boys. They’re as excited about this as I am. I’m so glad I included them in this.
“What are you after, sir?” the salesman asks.
“Gold.” I look to Fletcher in question, and he nods. “Yes, eighteen-karat gold. A solitaire diamond, not too big and flashy, but the diamond has to be perfect.”
“Okay. This way, please.” He leads us over to a glass cabinet where diamond rings are displayed in rows.
“Thank you,” I reply. “This could take a while.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be just over here when you need me.”
The boys and I all peer into the cabinet.
“Do you see any you like?” I whisper.
“Hmm.” Patrick cranes his neck as he looks. “I’m trying to imagine if I were a girl.”
“You wouldn’t have to imagine too hard,” Harry mutters dryly.
“That one.” Fletcher points to a ring that sits on its own.
A solitaire diamond ring in a black velvet case sparkles perfectly in the light.
“Oh yeah,” Harry whispers. “I like that one too.”
“What do you think, Tricky?” I ask.
“Hmm.” He frowns as he concentrates. “I think she might like a love-heart one instead. You know, for love.”
Harry screws up his face in disgust. “She isn’t ten,” he scoffs. “Nobody likes love-heart rings.”
“I think it would be nice,” I reply as I stare at the ring in front of us. “But maybe Mom would prefer a round one.” I shrug. “Good idea, though, Tricky.” I rub his little head and mess up his hair.
He smiles up at me. “I suppose.”
“Excuse me,” I call to the salesman.
“Yes.”
“Can we look at this one, please?” I point to the ring we like.
“Of course.” He takes it out of the cabinet and passes it over.
We all stare at it in my hand. “Can you tell me about it?” I ask.
“Yes, this is a perfect-cut solitaire two-karat diamond. Eighteen-karat gold in a traditional setting.”
I smile as I stare at it. I think this is it. “Can we have a moment alone, please?” I ask.
“Of course.” He leaves us alone.
“What do you reckon?” I whisper as I pass it to Fletcher. He studies it carefully. “I love this one.” He passes it to Harry, who inspects it in great detail. He nods in approval. He passes it to Patrick, who immediately drops it on the ground.
“Patrick, you idiot,” Harry whispers angrily. “Watch what you’re doing.”
“It’s slippery,” Patrick stammers.
“Oh my God. I’m sorry,” I stammer to the salesman as we all dive to the floor to retrieve it.
I pick it up and stare at it in my fingers, and a broad smile crosses my face. “This is it.” I turn to the salesman. “We’ll take it, please.”
Snow is falling, and the boys all stare out the window of our chalet.
It’s Christmas Eve, and we are sitting by the open fire, next to the Christmas tree.
This Christmas seems special . . . it is special.
My first with them.
Claire smiles over at me. “Thank you for bringing us here.” She kisses me softly. “It’s perfect.”
“Boys,” I call.
They all run to us and sit down, excited for what’s to come.
“We have something for you.” I smile.
Patrick puts his hand over his mouth so that he doesn’t blurt it out.
Claire’s eyes come to me in question.
I drop to my knee in front of her and hold out the ring. “Claire, will you marry me?”
The three boys all bounce on the spot in excitement.
Claire giggles and pulls me in to kiss her. “I thought you’d never ask.” We kiss, and the boys high-five. “I’ve got a Christmas present for you too, Tris,” she whispers.
I smile as I kiss her again, and then she takes my hand and puts it over her stomach.
“You’re going to be a father.”
My world stops.
She smiles through tears. “I’m two months pregnant.”
I stare at her wide eyed; then I look to the boys, who are wide eyed too.
What the . . .
Claire giggles as my hand rests tenderly over her stomach. “Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Miles. Now you have four.”
Two weeks later
I exhale heavily as I stand outside Jameson’s office door. I drop my head as I brace myself.
I’m about to do something I’ve never imagined in my wildest dreams.
I knock twice.
“Come in,” he calls.
Without a word, I walk in and hand him the envelope.
He frowns. “What’s this?”
“My resignation.”
“What?” His eyes hold mine. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m taking over as CEO of Anderson Media. Fletcher and I are going to run it together.”
His face falls. “I don’t think—”
“The decision’s already been made, Jay,” I cut him off. “I’m going.”
“What did Claire say?”
“She doesn’t know yet.”
He frowns. “You are leaving your family company to run someone else’s company? That’s madness.”
I drop my head.
“I can’t let you do this,” he stammers.
“I’m going to run my sons’ company . . . for them. I can build it back up so that by the time they are old enough to take it over, it will be booming.”
His eyes hold mine, and he gives me a slow smile. “You’re a good man, Tristan.” He pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek.
I want to blurt out that we are pregnant and not to be sad, because this is the beginning of something wonderful—a life with the woman I love and four beautiful children—but I can’t. We’ve agreed to keep the pregnancy to ourselves for another month until Claire reaches her second trimester.
However, I’m well aware that this is the end of my time working with my brothers, and for that I truly am devastated.
It won’t be the same not working with them.
My eyes well with tears as we hug. The ending of an era.
Eventually I pull out of his arms and walk toward the door.
“When will you be back?” he asks.
I turn back to him. “When my boys are men.”
