Page 115 of Long Time Coming

I’m handed a pen before the lawyer goes through the paperwork to explain. The percentages don’t add up. “It’s supposed to be thirty-eight percent in my name, correct?” I tap the numbers on the page. “This says fifty-one percent.”

The door opens. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Griffin.” I jump from my seat and run into his arms. “What are you doing here?” I cry into his shoulder. Getting married sure does bring out the emotions.

“Hey, baby sis.” When I step back to give him access to my dad and brother, he says, “You’re getting married. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I’m so tempted to text Tagger and share the good news, but he’s at the elementary school signing Beckett up for school and taking a tour to get him more comfortable before it starts in the fall.

As soon as they take their seats again, I hug him. “I’ve missed you so much.” Even though I’ve grown up since last seeing him, he’s bigger than I remember. Dark hair like my dad once had, and Baylor’s mop top. His eyes are blue like mine, and the spark I remember so vividly being in his eyes has returned to be a part of the festivities.

Griffin Greene is not someone we can keep up with. His life has led him all over this earth and back again. He left like Baylor after my mom’s death, but we didn’t get many texts after that, and fewer calls came through. I have no idea what he’s been up to.

And due to all that needs to get done, I’m not sure we’ll have time to catch up.

The attorney calls us over and goes through the numbers again to show me how it got to fifty-one. “Baylor is transferring thirteen shares. Griffin is doing the same. That puts it at fifty-one.”

My head swivels so fast on my neck to look at Griffin that I think I twinged it. Rubbing it, I ask, “You did that?”

“It only makes sense. Like Baylor has said, you’ve earned it. We keep some of it in our family name, but you deserve it, Christine.” He nods toward the document. “Go ahead and sign, and let’s make this official.”

I take the pen and sign my name. I don’t think it sinks in that this ranch is mine like it is my dad’s. I gave up a lot to be here, to pick up the pieces when no one could. I never imagined I’d get this kind of payoff.

When I walk the lawyer to his car, he stops and looks around like he wants to make sure we’re alone. “I have one more thing for you.” He digs into the pocket of his briefcase and pulls out more documents.

“What is it?”

“A prenuptial agreement from Mr. Grange.”

The words strike like a slap across the face. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Time is of the essence, but I think he was wise to protect the assets.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “What asset are we specifically talking about?”

“The ranch, the business, the farm, the orchards, and the houses on the property.”

“There’s only one house.”

He replies, “For now.”

I find the statement as confusing as this whole surprise prenuptial agreement. There was never a mention of anything or protecting ourselves from the other. So to say this feels like a blindside . . . a Mack truck hitting me and coming back for a second round is more fitting.

Taking the papers, I say goodbye and march straight into the house and up to my bedroom, ready to give Tagger a piece of my mind. If he doesn’t want to share, fine, we won’t share a damn thing, including that bed I was promised.

I flop on the bed, my head still pounding from too much alcohol last night and pull the papers from the envelope. Holding them above my head, I start to flip through pages but land on one—the division of assets. Should I have seen this coming? He’s in finance, so it would have been a stretch. Otherwise, it’s not in his character to surprise me with last-minute betrayal-nuptial agreements.

Scanning the page, I stop when I see what’s included and what’s very much not listed. I sit up to reread just in case I didn’t read it correctly the first time. But there it is, plain as day. “There shall be no claims to Rollingwood Ranch or any associated businesses, properties, financials, or incomes.”No claim?

Why do we need a contract to state he has no claim to my family’s property?

And then it occurs to me . . . He has no claim to my money and assets, but I have full rights to his.Oh my God.Tagger, what have you done?

He’s getting so lucky for this.

* * *

“You’re pretty,”Beck says, standing in front of me in his spiffiest jeans, button-up, boots, and hat.He’s acclimating.

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