I think my dad would be proud, too.
I told the Stone brothers that I’d pay them back for what they invested in my new career, but they probably agreed just to avoid an argument. I know they won’t take my money.
Now that my books are doing better, I don’t need or want their money, but we’re a team now. A family. What’s theirs is mine, and what’s mine is theirs, and when I make it to the bestsellers list, I’m going to shower them with gifts like they do me. I’m getting started on that already; they’re going to have a lot of packages to open on Christmas morning.
After I drop Becca off at her house, I head home. I’m preoccupied with holiday dinner plans and story ideas, and remind myself that I need to focus. We’ve only been in our house a couple of weeks, and even though I thought I knew Four Points well, I’ve made wrong turns a few times before while driving home.
Once the men found a good plot of land, they started working with a local company, Diamond Construction, and the house of their dreams quickly started taking shape. The house of our dreams. They’re insistent on always including me, though I didn’t really have any specific requests. I’d be happy living in a tent, as long as I’m with the Stone brothers.
The house has a designer kitchen, several bathrooms, huge walk-in closets, and plenty of room for the five of us, especially in the mega master bedroom with its oversize bed and open space for lots of play outside of the bed.
They insisted on making one room an office for me. I still do virtual admin work, though I’ve narrowed my client list down as writing has taken up more of my time. I stopped waitressing several months ago.
From my office, I have a view of the side yard, which is in the process of being landscaped. We’ve hired a company to do the work, but Rachel is helping to plan the area and putting in some small plants herself. In fact, she’s out there when I return home. With her love of gardening, she’s lucky to live in a climate where she can work outside all year long. I wave to her as I make my way toward her, careful to walk on the big paver stones that have been put down.
“How are you?” I say when I’m within earshot.
She stands and leans hard to one side, stretching her back. “Good, dear. How was shopping?”
“Fun but crowded. It was probably good that you decided not to go.”
“Maybe we can shop the sales the day after Christmas if you’re up for it,” she says.
“That sounds great. Are you staying for dinner tonight?”
“No, dear, I’m sure you five would rather have time alone with each other, and I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner at my house.”
“Don’t be silly. Stay.” I help her carry her gardening tools into the garage, and then she helps me carry in the shopping bags from my car.
Barrett’s already in the kitchen preparing dinner, and after I change my clothes, I join him, cutting up vegetables for the salad while he makes a sauce for the chicken. Thirty minutes later, we’re all sitting down around the big table in the dining room, passing plates and talking about our day.
It’s especially nice to have everyone together. The men have to travel for work a few times a month, and Bronson and Lincoln just returned from five days in Charlotte and New York. Usually just one or two of them go, and since we’ve been together, I’ve never spent a night alone.
Barrett is the one who mostly oversees Rusty’s operations, though he hired a manager several months ago, so he doesn’t have to go in regularly.
When we’re finished eating, Rachel stands and starts collecting empty plates.
“No, Mom. We’ve got it,” Bronson says, taking the stack of dishes from her hands.
“I’ll just load the dishwasher for you,” she says.
“Not necessary. We don’t invite you over so that you can clean,” he says.
“Okay, well, if I can’t help you clean up, I’ll head home, because I still have things to get ready for tomorrow.”
“Lincoln and I will be over just after lunch to help,” Lennox says.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve; I can’t believe it’s been a year since that surprising, emotional, wonderful night last December.
“I’ll see you then, and see you all tomorrow. Thank you for dinner,” Rachel says.
Lincoln and I walk her to the door, and she hugs us before she leaves. She’s my stepmother, and if the men and I were able to get married legally, she’d also be my mother-in-law. I’m so lucky to have her in my life.
“Let’s go relax by the tree,” Lincoln says after he’s closed the front door.
“That sounds nice,” I say as he tucks me under his arm. We’ve been so busy getting settled into the new house, along with work and holiday preparations, that there hasn’t been much time for relaxation.