Page 60 of A Fortunes of Texas Christmas (Fortunes of Texas)

A thousand emotions raced through Amersen’s entire body. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Angry. Resentful. Edgy. He’d imagined the moment countless times and had prepared himself to be filled with enough rage to start a war. But what he truly felt was an all-consuming sense of relief.

And then the older man held out his hand. Amersen wavered for a moment, unsure, feeling about sixteen years old...imagining he was that boy again, the one who demanded to know who he was and then saw the pain in his mother’s eyes when he learned the truth. A pain that this man—this sperm donor—was responsible for. So he waited for the familiar rage to manifest itself. But it didn’t come. And then, without really knowing how, he reached out and shook Gerald Robinson’s hand.

“Come inside,” Gerald said when Amersen pulled his hand free. “We should talk.”

The home was as impressive inside as out. As expected, it was decorated within an inch of its life with Christmas elements, which reminded him of Robin’s little house—and then the thought of her sent his stomach plummeting.

Once they were seated in the large living room, Gerald spoke again.

r /> “It took a lot of guts for you to come here.”

Amersen didn’t flinch. “I figured one of us had to be the first to face the other.”

Gerald nodded. “You’re right. It’s been a long time coming. I suppose you have a lot of questions.”

Amersen’s chest constricted, and he forced air into his lungs. Not now. He took a second and thought of wide-open spaces. He thought of water. He thought of air. And he thought of Robin. And then his lungs were free. Thank you, ma chérie.

He took a breath and looked at Gerald. “I have one question. Why do you cheat on your wife?”

To his credit, the other man didn’t shrink back from his query. “Because for better or worse, women have always been my biggest weakness. And I find them hard to resist.”

“Every woman you meet?” he shot back, unflinching.

“That is a slight exaggeration,” Gerald replied. “But I can see why you might think that...considering.”

“Considering I’m sitting here, you mean.”

Gerald’s mouth twisted in a brief half smile. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Amersen tried not to let the mention of Suzette’s name change the tempo of the conversation. He didn’t want to start a fight. He didn’t want to hear stories about twenty-five-year-old broken promises. But he did want the truth.

“I know what transpired between you and my mother when she worked for you. It’s not a road I wish to go down with you. But I would like to know this—you have been aware of my existence for some time. Why have you not made contact?”

Gerald met his gaze, took a long breath and sat back in the chair. “I didn’t think you needed me to. You appear to be in control of your life... I didn’t want to interfere with that.”

It was quite the admission, but Amersen wasn’t quite ready to let the other man off the hook. “How could you interfere? I don’t know you.”

Gerald looked at him. “You know me, Amersen. You know me when you look in the mirror. You knew me when you made your first million. You knew me when you bought that vineyard and planned to produce the best wine in the region. You knew me when you decided to come to Austin to talk with Kate Fortune. You know me every time you have an idea or plan some risky business transaction.” He leaned forward. “Because I’m in your blood.”

Amersen stared at him, and as he did, the resistance and rage he’d been harboring for months suddenly faded. Not completely, but enough for him to really see the man who sat in front of him.

Flawed. Earnest. Scared.

Everything that he was, too. And he knew, in that moment, that he had a choice. He could be a coward and tell Gerald Robinson to go straight to hell and forget the man existed. Or he could accept who and what he was. Luc Beaudin would always be his father. But perhaps, with time and patience and compromise, this man could be something, too. He wasn’t sure what...perhaps a mentor or friend. But he was willing to at least leave a window of opportunity open. He was man enough to admit that he could. And that he wanted to.

“I’m tired of being resentful toward you,” he admitted.

“Good,” Gerald said flatly. “Resentment is a wasted emotion. And it’s certainly wasted on me.”

Amersen nodded. “I have good parents. A solid family. I’m not looking for another. I don’t want anything from you, either,” he stated, laying it out. “I don’t want or need your money, your name or your success.”

“I know that,” Gerald said and nodded. “You have that all on your own. Despite how it might seem, I’m actually very proud of you.”

Amersen made a self-deriding sound. His father was proud of him? Ironic, since he wasn’t particularly proud of himself right now. “I’ve tried really hard to not be like you.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“It’s not,” he admitted and then said a brief goodbye to the older man.”

---