Page 2 of Roark
The woman, dressed in black pants and a white chef’s jacket, smiled and took the plate he’d extended to her. “Certainly. I’ll bring it to your table, Mr. Donovan.”
He was Mr. Donovan. He had been since that rainy Saturday twenty-three years ago, when he’d stood graveside, watching as his aunts and uncles laid long-stemmed roses on top of his father dusky gray casket. Today, he’d set five long-stemmed orange roses on his mother’s casket—one for each member of their family. She’d always called them her ‘heart’. Even after his father had passed away, his mother had continued to love Gabriel Donovan. Now, the two of them would be together again. Roark swallowed hard and took a deep breath. The release was shaky as he fought back tears. Clenching his fingers into fists at his side, he insisted he was done crying, at least for today.
Remembering to thank the staff member and once again smile, Roark turned away from her. In the main hall once again, he looked around at the many people either sitting at tables or standing in small groups talking. A good number of them were family, Donovans who’d come from as far as Las Vegas, Nevada, and from his mother’s side, the Walters, who were mainly from the UK. Also, in the mix were business associates who’d worked at Donovan Oilwell UK, the branch of the family company Roark’s father had run until his death. The company Roark and Ridge had been running up until two years ago, when Roark had branched off to create a new arm of the Donovan dynasty. Roark had teamed up with his cousin Dane to bring Donovan Oilwell UK into the 21stcentury by expanding into the clean-air market with a focus on fostering sustainable cities. From that collaboration, Donovan International had been born.
New businesses, new family members—everything was changing.
But change was good. His mother had always told him that. Without change, life became stagnant, boring.
Roark felt like his life was over.
Until a little body slammed into his calves, and the arms that went with said body wrapped around his knees.
“Whoa.” Roark looked down to see the top of a head full of dark brown curls. “Slow down there, buddy.”
His warning was followed by giggles, and when the little boy looked up at him, Roark couldn’t help but chuckle too. He also couldn’t resist picking the toddler up and holding him close.
New life. Maxine had loved kids and had never missed an opportunity to tell her children how many grandchildren she’d wanted. In the past few years, she’d slacked off a bit on saying this to Roark because of his divorce, but he knew she’d still felt the same. She’d wanted a house full of grandchildren, who’d be the fifth generation of Donovans. As Roark nuzzled a chubby cheek, he closed his eyes with the pang of disappointment that his mother would never be granted that wish.
The feeling wasn’t allowed to fester, as from the other side, another toddler had latched onto him. Now, Roark chuckled harder before bending down to scoop the second smiling kiddo into his arms.
“Good catch.” Noelle Remington smiled as she walked up to him and crossed her arms over her chest. “You look pretty comfortable with those two.”
“I’m not upset they found me.” In fact, their laughing eyes and cheerful voices—even though he couldn’t understand their child-like gibberish—gave a sprinkle of joy on this otherwise bleak day. “They were running around so much at the flat last night that I only saw them in a blur.”
Noelle was his cousin Brock’s wife and Jade’s sister. Brock and Noelle ran Linc’s Gramercy II casino in St. Michael’s, Maryland. The set of twins Roark held in his arms were their children, Bradyn and Natasha.
“They don’t call them the ‘terrible twos’ for nothing,” Noelle quipped. “But kids look good on you.”
They felt good too, a fact that only brought back the pain Roark was becoming all too accustomed to. “We don’t have any little children here. Well, now we have your sister’s twins, Torian and Tamala, but they’re not children. I know, because they told me so a few months ago when I took them to a fashion show in Paris.”
In contrast to her sister, Noelle wore her hair in a short, curly style that closely resembled her children’s except for her bright blond color. She also wore a black dress with black pumps and large diamond stud earrings. “Yes, my nieces are really growing up. I didn’t see them that often when they were living in the States, and now that they’re all the way across the pond, I’ll see them even less.” She smiled when Bradyn reached out to her, and she lifted him from Roark’s hold. After kissing his chubby cheek, Noelle returned her attention to Roark. “I just wish this visit could’ve been for a better reason. I’m so sorry for your loss, Roark. I know we’re far away, but if there’s anything you need that Brock and I can help you with—”
Roark knew how that sentence would end, and he cut her off with a shake of his head. “I know. Our family’s always been tight-knit, even when thousands of miles apart. But we’ll get through this—Ridge and Suri and I.” He’d said those words a lot in the past two weeks. He'd even sat with his brother and sister trying to convince them that those words were true. But inside, Roark wasn’t so sure.
“And Aunt Birdie. I heard her telling Uncle Bernard and Uncle Albert that she wasn’t leaving until she knew the three of you were alright. She said your parents would’ve wanted it that way.”
“I don’t know about that,” Roark added with another shake of his head. “Aunt Birdie and my mum had their moments.”
“Aunt Birdie has moments with everyone,” Noelle replied and then reached out to rub her hand over her daughter’s head. “Are you getting sleepy, sunshine?”
Roark looked down at Natasha, who’d rested her head on his shoulder and stuck her first finger into her mouth. He hadn’t noticed she’d stopped giggling, but had instead allowed himself to languish in the warmth of her against him. “I can bring her over to your table.” He wasn’t going to let her carry them both across the crowded room, even though he’d seen how easily Noelle handled both the toddlers in the past few days.
“Thanks. We brought their car seats inside, so she can nap in there until we leave.”
There were six family tables set up and positioned toward the front of the room. Brock, Uncle Albert and Uncle Bernard were sitting at one when Roark and Noelle approached.
“It’s nap time,” Noelle said, and Brock immediately stood to take Natasha from Roark.
“Thanks, man,” Brock told him.
“No problem.” It wasn’t a problem to hold two of his youngest family members, or to watch their sweet faces as they were set into the seats and given cups of milk.
“How you holding up?” Uncle Bernard asked.
Roark nodded. “I’m good,” he lied.
“He’s steady, like Gabe was,” Uncle Albert said.
