Forrest looked like he wanted to protest but, wisely, he kept his mouth shut, and Sterling plowed on.
"So, yeah, we're done. I don't want to ruin your life. I don't want you to lose your job. You're great at the Inn, and I know my brothers like you. But I have one favor to ask." Knowing he had the final say, Sterling spoke directly to Griffen. "I don't want Forrest in this house. I have to live here." She rethought what she'd said. "No, I want to live here. I know half of you guys probably hate it, but I love having everyone here. It was like a fucking mausoleum when it was just Dad and me. But I don't want to have to worry I'm going to bump into him in my home."
"I can make you that promise," Griffen said gravely. He raised his chin at Hawk, who aimed a look at Forrest.
"Security's going to have instructions to keep you off the property. Don't try to sneak in or you won't like the consequences," Hawk said.
Forrest caught West's nod of agreement and kept his mouth shut.
Tenn and Royal looked at each other, sharing some silent communication I couldn't translate. When they were done, Royal said to Forrest, "Be in the office Monday morning. We'll talk. I'm not making any promises, though."
Forrest stood. "I'll take it."
No one else seemed to have anything to say, and he turned for the door. As he passed through, he said to West, "Call me Monday after you verify things with the auction house."
"Count on it," West replied.
After Forrest left, everyone else gradually filtered out of the room. Parker stayed with Sterling, talking to her quietly. Griffen and Hope were having a conversation I couldn't overhear. Finn and Hawk had already slipped out.
Royal glanced at Tenn. "I'm headed to the Inn to check on a few things after the party last night."
"Do you need a hand?"
"No, you're good. You didn't exactly have an uneventful night from what I heard. Take the day off. I'll call you later to talk about the Forrest situation."
"Works for me." Royal left and Tenn stood, reaching for my hand and pulling me to my feet.
"What do you want to do, gorgeous?"
There were about a thousand things I wanted to do. Drag Tenn into the closest room with a lock on the door and strip him naked. Put on my suit and jump in the pool, with or without the kids. Check in on said kids and take their temperature after the upheaval of the night before.
All good options, but I was a little embarrassed to admit that the thing I wanted to do most was get back to my little workroom near the kitchens and finish the piece I'd been working on before we left for the Fourth of July celebrations.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and cocked my head to the side, looking into Tenn's deep blue eyes, wondering how he'd react if I picked my lampwork over him. I shouldn't have worried. I was gnawing on my lower lip, still thinking about what to say, when Tenn answered the question for me.
"You want to finish that little bluebird, don't you?"
I exhaled a relieved breath. "I do. Do you mind? He's been in my head all day. I want to perch him on a little branch and maybe find something cool for a base. Can we go hiking later? I bet I'll find what I need in the woods—"
Tenn laughed, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me close, kissing the top of my head. "I want to come down and see how far you got on him yesterday. And then I'll go find something to do while you work. Maybe I'll take the kids to the pool. And we can definitely go for a hike later."
We walked hand in hand down the hall to the stairs, me picking up speed as I got closer to my workroom, excited to show Tenn what I'd been working on.
The workroom was a few doors down from the main kitchens, a decent-sized space that had been a storage closet. Unlike the others, this one had been mostly empty. Savannah hadn't had any trouble relocating the linens and extra dishes that had been haphazardly stored on the shelves. They'd brought in a huge wooden table with a thick, scarred top telling of decades of loving use. Most importantly, the room had excellent lighting and plenty of shelves to store my supplies.
I'd had this little bluebird in my head for two weeks. Letting him out of my imagination into the glass was its own kind of ecstasy. Tenn checked out my small creation, running a careful finger over the bluebird's sharp black beak, up into the curve of his blue head. I hadn't worked too much detail into the wings, still deciding how I wanted them to look. Smooth and clear or etched with the shape of his feathers? I'd figure it out eventually.