She startles at my question and pulls up short. “What?”

“You heard me.” I squeeze her hand a little too hard as I try, unsuccessfully, to choke back my frustration.

“Ow.” Frowning, she tugs her hand out of mine. “No, I never had a thing for Cash.” She practically growlsthe words and heads up the stairs without looking back to make sure I’m following. “He wasn’t the brother I was interested in,” she whispers, like she hopes I can’t hear her.

My heart pounds, and my feet freeze halfway up the steps. “Roman, then?”

She whips around and rolls her eyes. “What difference does it make who I had a crush on years ago? I was a teenager.”

“It matters to me,” I bite out, taking a step closer so we’re eye to eye.

She scrutinizes me unblinkingly. “Are you really this big of an idiot?”

I open my mouth to reply, but she slaps her palm over it.

“Don’t answer that. You’ll just dig a bigger hole for yourself.”

Lowering her hand, she spins and continues up the wide staircase.

I stay behind, but only because the view is annoyingly nice.

She waits for me at the top, then follows me to the office, even though she knows where it is. With a steadying breath, I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, then knock on the door and wait.

“Roman,” my dad hollers, “I told you already, I’m not building a skate park in the backyard for Christmas.”

I chuckle. “It’s me, Dad.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “Come in.”

I shoot a look at Rosie.Ready or not?Then I open the door and usher Rosie in first, since it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. Plus, it gives me a few more seconds to catch my breath before facing my father.

His mahogany desk is a monstrous thing. The wall behind him is lined with tome after tome of rare and collectible literature. My brothers and I used to poke fun at him for his love of old books. Regardless of where we traveled, he’d always cart us off to used bookstores.

With a smile, he slides his reading glasses off and sets them aside. The expression on his face has nothing to do with me, though, and everything to do with the woman at my side.

Despite our falling out, my dad and brothers still love Rosie.

“Rosie,” he crows, getting up from his desk and coming around to pull her into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Hendricks.”

He pulls away from the hug but keeps a hold of her shoulders. “How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Peter.”

“Peter,” she parrots with a tiny laugh.

I stand in the middle of the room, hands hanging limply at my sides now, eyes on the ceiling, doing my best not to be hurt that every person here is more excited to see an old friend than they are to see me, a member of the family.

“Daire,” he says, finally turning to me. “I’ve missed you.” He opens his arms for a hug.

The anger fades and is quickly replaced by a comfort I only feel when I’m with him, and I squeeze him back.

Despite his workaholic tendencies, he’s been more present than most parents. When we were kids, he was always home by five. Even if he usually holed up in his home office after dinner.

Still, I can’t complain. He lost the love of his life and runs a billion-dollar company, yet he still managed to be present in our lives.

“Does this mean you two have finally made up?” he asks me with an arched brow. “You guys were so close, practically attached at the hip, until you weren’t.”

“Uh… yeah, I guess you could say that.”