Across the table, Aiden watches his father laugh. And Xavier gives him a wink. One of solidarity.
Maybe this will work.
The housealways smells like wood polish, bourbon, and whatever Dad’s cooking in the oven. Or Mom’s latest attempted baking disaster.
Home. Or whatusedto be, before we built our own.
After the meal, Ashlyn sits between Olivia and Pippi, cheeks pink from the wine she swore she wouldn’t drink. She’s glowing, laughing at something Henry said, the girls trading low whispers.
Dad’s actually relaxed for once. He’s telling Ryan about the time he raced a dean’s Bentley across the quad to prove he could—and still got invited to the fundraiser after. My little sister’s laughing so hard she nearly drops her phone. The one she’s not supposed to have at the table.
But she gets away with everything.
If you looked at us now, you’d think we were normal.
Mom winks at me from the kitchen island as she scrapes the last of the roast into a storage container. “Dessert’s sort of ready. A little crispy,” she says, eyeing the cobbler she set on the stove.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I like her. She’s got…verve,” she says low, eyes on my beloved.
“I think she and Dad will get along. Maybe they don’t because?—”
“She’s as much of a force as you. Which means, she’s a lot like him, too.” She pushes a serving spoon into my stomach. “But that’sexactlythe kind of woman you needed. Not someone soft or delicate. No.”
A little glint of tears lines her lower lashes as she presses her palm against my cheek. “My boy needed a spark to his flame. Someone who can make him feel and see things the way no one else can. And I love her for that.”
My throat gets tight. She’s right. I would’ve crushed someone else. The only woman strong enough for me is sitting over on the bench, snorting loudly at Ryan’s stupid impressions.
The rest of our evening goes off without a hitch. Ashlyn is guarded, not fully herself, but that’s okay. I never am either. Not unless I’m alone with her.
Another reason I fucking love her.
Dad pulls me into his office before we leave, signaling me to come alone. With a heavy sigh, he shuts the door. “President Damon’s making orders on her own now. No approval from the board. Eithershe’sinstituting them…or they’re coming from theelders.”
“But those old guys are only figureheads—worshippers at the Cathedral.”
He nods, running a hand through the grays at his temple. “That’s what we thought. But something’s shifted. Either she madethemchange, or she’s acting in their name. Either way, the POT’s back in control of appointments, and the Board of Trustees is shut out of all decisions.”
His hands close over my shoulders. “Our best move? Get you on the committees. Your brothers on others.”
I scoff. “Dad, that’ll take years.”
“It’s already taken years to rot. It’ll take years to rebuild. But now we’ve got the Von Dovishes, the Josephs, the Turners…”
I glance up and grin. “The Donovans.”
“Yeah, and the Freidenbergs. We’ll build a new system together, flood their ranks with our own, and then we change everything from theinside.”
“Subvert the system,” we say together.
When we aim for the door, saying our goodbyes to everyone, it hits me. Hard. Things are changing. I knew it would be tough, but the future is shaky. The only thing I’m sure of?
The woman standing in front of me with a golden smile.
Dad saunters over and tosses his arm around me, then her. “Thanks for coming. Ashlyn? I look forward to seeing your drawings soon.”
Ashlyn’s face crinkles into a warm smile. “Sure, Mr. Cardell. Thanks for having me.”