A third of the square footage as Reese's home, it was still huge but his father had never downsized after Lunette had died. If it were Reese who'd lost his wife in a car accident, he couldn't have moved fast enough. Hell, when Gwyneth cheated on him, he hadn't been able to set foot into the mansion without remembering her sorting mail in the foyer, or drinking tea in the kitchen. Or opening his eyes in the morning and watching out the window as she dove into the deep end of the pool.
Similarly, his father's house was haunted by as many painful memories. Reese remembered his mother in the kitchen, rushing back and forth to throw lunches together for the three of them. They could afford to eat the private school lunches, seeing as money had never been a problem, but she'd insisted on packing homemade sandwiches on bread that Magda had baked from scratch.
Outside, the covered back patio sprawled the length of the house, providing welcome shade from the hot sun. As if Alex had phoned up God himself and requested good weather, above were blue skies and only the occasional puffy cloud.
"This is a beautiful house," Merina commented, her hand squeezing his.
"It was." He lifted her hand and brushed his lips along her knuckles, pleased when she sent him a smile that calmed some of the torrential feelings inside him.
When his mother was alive, life was as close to perfect as the family of five could've come. After she'd passed, the kitchen held memories of frozen casseroles and lasagna that neighbors and friends brought for them to eat. The pool house the room where Reese would sit for hours, feet in the water wondering if he fell in and drowned if it would relieve the pain his mother's death left behind.
It was emo-teenage kid stuff he thought he'd outgrown. Being back here or encountering his and Gwyneth's former bedroom hadn't made him want to drown himself, but a familiar, black cloud hung ominously above his head.
A few years after his mother died, Reese started shadowing his father at work. It took a week for him to decide that his college major would be whatever gave him the proper education he needed to take over Crane Hotels someday.
His legacy.
The woman next to him was a crucial spoke in the wheel of his journey. Thanks to her, he was on his way to a future that burned so brightly, it shut out the hurt. Merina also shut out the hurt, because that black cloud didn't hold the weight it had before she was here.
He didn't have the time or desire to take a long vision of that thought.
Hand in hand with Merina, he walked through the grass to where his father stood, dressed in white pants and a navy shirt, his white hair lifting in the breeze.
"Reese. There he is." Alex was standing with Frank and Bob, and a quick glance around the party determined there were a handful of other board members in attendance.
"Gang's all here," Reese muttered. Merina moved her hand to his elbow, possibly warning him to behave himself.
An hour into mingling, she'd made the rounds with him to greet guests and friends of the family. They parted with a kiss he'd assumed was for the crowd, yet when her hands lingered on his neck, and his eyes sank closed, the kiss felt like it was only for them.
That'd been happening often, and in this setting, surrounded by gawking onlookers, he itched with the urge to leave. Partly because he'd rather be alone with Merina, and partly because being here reminded him of the deal he'd made with her in the first place.
They'd moved beyond a deal and a marriage for show. They had slipped from the precarious ledge of staged kisses and convenient sex. Their relationship was more than signatures on a contract.
He hadn't meant for it to happen, but now that it had, he had no idea what to do about it.
His father approached, carrying two bottles of beer. He offered one to Reese, who stood next to a small algae-filled pond.
"Frog," Alex said as the tiny green thing leapt into the water with a bloop. "Can't pour the algae killer in there or else the frog will die."
"Isn't that natural selection?" Reese asked drily, accepting the brew and tipping the bottle back for a long, wet sip. He'd laid off the alcohol while wandering around the party, and now it tasted damn good going down.
Alex chuckled. "So. Enjoying yourself?"
Beer bottle to his lips, Reese grunted.
"Penelope thought a cookout would be the nudge you need." Alex lowered his voice, his eyes moving around the yard. "One more casual affair for the board to see you with your wife."
"You're talking to my advisor?"
"She's on the Crane payroll."
"She's on my payroll."
"I'm not retired yet." Alex broke into a grin. "Eager to see me in checkered golf pants?"
"You never did know how to relax." Reese nodded at his father's hearty build and flat stomach. "Time to let yourself go. Get paunchy."
"Shit." Alex laughed the word.
His old man deserved the break. After raising three boys alone—who'd grown into three hard-working, dedicated men—Alex deserved to kick back and not be responsible for anyone but himself.
"I have to stay fit for the ladies." Alex pulled a hand over his chest, his mustache stretching as he smiled.
Reese nearly spit out his beer. "You? Date?"
"Never know. I'm hot for a senior."
"And apparently senile."
His dad flipped him off and Reese laughed, which helped him relax. Alex had always, always been on Reese's side. Even when he became surly or short-tempered at work, there was nothing he wouldn't do for his boys.
"I owe you," Reese said, looking down at the grass.
"For?"
He met his father's blue eyes. Dark blue like his own. "For always making sure I knew that Crane Hotels was my destiny."
Alex blinked in surprise, or maybe he was moved.
"You didn't let me hand you anything, son. You demanded an interview."
That was true. "I didn't want to be handed anything."
"So proud of that. You wanted to prove you deserved your position at Crane Hotels, and soon enough you will be the head the company." Alex put a hand on Reese's shoulder and Reese felt the horrifying burn of tears at the back of his eyes. "Where you belong."
"Who are all these people, anyway?" Reese asked, changing the subject before this bizarre display of tenderness revoked his man card. He recognized half of the guests, but the other half were either people he'd never met or had met in passing and forgotten.