* * *
Nolan had suspected he’d been in love with Lizzie the year before. He’d been certain of it since his initial return to Austin.
Sitting on that couch with her on Christmas Eve, holding her while she shed what he guessed was over a decade of grief, he knew that the love was real. His throat grew tight and he cried a little bit, too, as he lived through the pain with her, felt her anguish.
A young girl, with no brothers and sisters, left an orphan, and she blamed wealth.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked several minutes after her sobs had died off. She’d been lying against him, her head on his shoulder, picking at a string on the back label of his tie.
“Real wealth has nothing to do with money.” He was winging this one, speaking as it came to him. And yet, he’d never been more certain of anything. “My father...he could have forced a paternity test and tapped into his father’s wealth, but he didn’t want to be associated with someone who’d turn his back on the mother of his child, on his own child. So instead, he took the name, and made his own kind of wealth.”
Her hand stilled on his chest.
“He had his father’s acumen for numbers, his gift for making money, but he wasn’t like him. My father’s true wealth was in that dining room tonight. My mother—she sits right beside him so they can touch and talk—along the rest of us. Growing up, it wasn’t my dad’s money that made my life great—though I’m not going to kid you, I enjoy what I can buy. But all of my memories as a kid...they revolve around my brothers and sisters.”
He sat her up, held her shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. “That’s what I have to share with you in New Orleans, Lizzie. Brothers and sisters. Parents. A real family. They’re a pain in the ass a lot of the time. And they run around and box up crazy stuff and wrap gifts.
“And Austin...giving you those old pants, it was his way of saying he trusts you with the family fortune. The intimate at-home stuff. Which, for him, is about as huge as it gets. He also said that if you don’t bring it back—meaning, you don’t come home with me—I lose my corner office with the windows. He wanted it, but I’d called it first.”
“Can he do that?”
“No. But he can probably make my life a little more hellish at work if he really wanted to. Volunteer me to entertain the difficult clients.”
When she smiled, his world flipped. He smiled back at her. And for a moment, it was a miracle.
“I don’t like a lot of attention,” she said, growing serious again. “I’m not the type of woman who is into wearing fancy clothes, and I’ve never gone to big society events. You move in a different world, Nolan, and I wouldn’t want any of that to reflect badly on you and—”
“I am the one who screwed up,” he interrupted. “I brought a child into the world, left her mother completely alone to deal with a life-threatening complication, all because I was too weak to face the challenge of falling in love.”
Her expression changed again, a light shining in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a year. “You fell in love?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So...we love each other.”
“Yes.”
“Then that means you should come to New Orleans with me and meet the rest of my family.”
Her hesitation worried him, but not unduly so. He understood now why she hated money so acutely. And he looked forward to showing her the good sides to being financially blessed. She’d worked so hard to be all right and make something of her life—and even harder to provide security and love and happiness to their daughter. Now it was time for her to be taken care of.
“They have modest-size homes in New Orleans, too,” he told her. He thought of the home in Austin he’d offered on. He was going to lose his thousand dollars on that one—forfeit it to the owners for backing out of the deal. But he didn’t care one bit.
“I thought you had a fancy condo there.”
“I do, and rooms at my folks’ house, too. But I want you to choose your house. Be comfortable in it. And, you know, there are those Forte weekends. I’ve been doing them for years...and now we both can shed the wealth and just be...well, whatever we want to be.”
“Oh, Nolan...”
“Just say you’ll come. No, wai
t. I have an idea...”
He pulled out his phone, dialed and pushed to bring up a video call.
“Hey!”