“Good.” Mr. Yates nodded. “This is a huge decision. For both of you. But what we need right now is a plan going forward before the court can weigh in. Of course, foster care—”
“Oh hell no.” Okay. A little of that temper slipped out. He couldn’t help it. “No foster care. I’m right here. Mark might need some thinking time or whatever, but I don’t. I’m right here and I want them.”
“With all due regard, Mr. James, you’re twenty-four. What you think you’re ready for may not in fact be your reality. By the time the hearing comes around—”
“I’ll be there in my best suit to get custody of my kids. I’m not changing my mind.”
“We know you’re not, honey.” Aunt Cecily fumbled for his hand, patting him awkwardly. “Cal knew you’d do right by his babies.”
“Here’s what I’m going to propose.” Mr. Yates stood, pacing the head of the conference table. “You’ve both been staying at the family home, correct? Sharing care of the children?”
Sharing was a huge stretch, but it would be damn petty to bring up that he was doing all the work. He nodded, gut souring, already knowing he wasn’t going to like what came next.
“What if you continue that arrangement? Mr. James can petition for guardianship if he chooses—”
“He chooses.”
“And Mark can decide whether to petition as well for either physical or financial guardianship. But in the meantime, while we await a court date, Mr. James and the children can reside at the home. Mr. Whitley can handle the finances as he carries out the execution of his sister’s estate as per the terms of her will. And that will give Mr. James time to find suitable living arrangements for the children should his suit be successful and should Mr. Whitley sell the family home.”
Seeing as how Isaiah couldn’t exactly arrive back at his small apartment with three kids and all their belongings, he was forced to nod. “I’ll get on that.”
“And you, Mark, this would let you get more comfortable with the kids. See if you do want to petition for custody.” The uncle nodded vigorously, clearly pulling for that outcome.
“I guess I could supervise—”
“I do not need supervision.” They were getting that straight right now. “But yeah, we could share until the court settles everything. The kids shouldn’t have to leave the only house they’ve ever known yet.”
Isaiah might be tempted to get the kids and run, but he had to think like an adult here, put them first. They needed to stay in the house as long as they could, go to their preschool on the island for the rest of the school year if they could. There was no way he could afford even a condo on Coronado. No, the bigshot lawyer guy was right. Sharing made sense, much as he hated to admit it.
And he’d prove to Mark that he was the best choice for the kids, get him to drop any thoughts of contesting Isaiah’s case for guardianship. Mark traveled even more than Isaiah’s father—and Isaiah well knew what it was like to grow up with that sort of absentee parent. No way did he want that for these kids. His kids. Isaiah was what was best for the kids, period.
Chapter Seven
“You need to lawyer up. Someone for your interests personally while the firm handles the probate details. You can’t let that kid win,” Mark’s uncle whispered insistently as the will meeting came to a close. “He’s single, too. And I’ve heard he’s—” he lowered his voice another octave “—into men. It’s just not right—”
“Cal and Danielle didn’t have a problem with him. Neither do I.” Now was not the time to get into his uncle’s awful politics. He’d been subdued at the funeral, which was good. Mark didn’t need a rundown of what dubious causes he was throwing his considerable wealth behind now. His father had been of similar mind, something Mark had bristled against for years.
“Still, he’s probably just in it for the money. We can’t squander the children’s future.”
Mark reluctantly nodded. He didn’t think Isaiah wanted the kids for the money—everything he’d seen so far said that he genuinely cared for the kids. Mark might have doubts about his suitability, but he didn’t think this was a money grab on his part. However, his uncle was right in that Mark might need to consider his own attorney for this will mess.
“He’ll change his mind.”
Mark ignored the weird fluttering in his gut. Isaiah would change his mind. Sure, he’d given an impassioned speech now, but the lawyer and his uncle were right—Isaiah was too young. Too flighty. Too much in love with drifting and partying. He wasn’t going to want the kids long-term. And if Danielle had had doubts about him and his readiness, then Mark wanted to honor her wishes. Wishes that could have been so much clearer. They should have kept their wills up to date. A lot of things had slipped through the cracks, which Mark had some serious frustration with, but Danielle did seem to have wanted him to have the kids. Might have been nice if she’d talked to him about it, but in a way, he’d known since he first heard the news that he was going to get the kids. This just made it more final.