Page 100 of Last Love

“You never wanted any of my money or possessions, just my time. And while I know that was limited, I hope by the time this is read, it was enough for you.”

Tears begin to collect on her eyelids.

“For your paid services I used during the medically required times, you will be receiving two years of salary to be paid out as it normally would be if I were still alive. You will also be transferred the title of my car to your name and I have paid insurance on it for a year. I hope this helps make caring for Christopher a bit easier whose medical debt I have paid off through the end of the current month. Please thank him for allowing me to have some of your very precious time.”

“That’s ludicrous!” My mother shouts in a squeaky tone. “He couldn’t have been competent when this was created if he left her all of that.”

“Mom!” Noah brutally snaps.

“Didn’t you hear him?” I bark her direction. “Janet was the love of his fucking life.”

“I was the love of his life!”

“You were just the woman he knocked up.”

The heartless correction causes her to gasp.

“He fucking loved her. He lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree just thinking about her. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t leave her more.”

“He wanted to,” Janet quietly proclaims. “I refused.” Our gazes shoot back to where she’s wiping away her tears. “Even this is too much.”

“I agree,” Mom rudely scoffs.

“Ms. Grant,” Peter states, eyes looking up over the rim of his glasses directly at her, “Mr. Collins received medical competency clearance before creating this Last Will and Testament. There will be an attachment of it and the medical notes with your copies of today’s proceedings.”

She huffs again but objects no further.

“To Marcy, the woman who gave me three beautiful children,” the attorney begins again. “To you, I leave the photos of them and our grandchild. May you finally realize their priceless value.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

I hide my laughter behind a balled fist I press to my lips.

“This Tiger Mom cunt gets her life taken care of for years, and I get fucking pictures?!”

“I’m drinking at lunch,” Noah mutters to me.

“Definitely.”

“Ms. Grant,” Peter firmly states on another scowl, “if you cannot control your outbursts, there is a clause written into the reading, which allows for me to have you escorted from the room. If this occurs, you get absolutely nothing.”

“I’m already getting nothing!”

“I am sorry you feel that way,” the attorney professionally apologizes, “however, I need to continue. Would you like to stay or be removed?”

“I would like a fucking drink from the bar.”

“Help yourself,” Janet cordially says with a hand motion that direction.

She gags at Dad’s girlfriend and stomps over to the alcohol area.

“To my beautiful daughter, Liz. I leave you this house, whatever furnishings in it that Janet doesn’t want to keep for herself, and one full year of property taxes for it. I hope you and your husband decide to move back here when you’re ready to begin a family. I hope you see the importance of being close to your brothers.”

Her gaze drifts down to the desk space in front of her.

We may not have much in common, but we definitely share that hold a grudge shit.

I don’t give a fuck if we’re ever close or not.

I don’t give a fuck if I never see her again.

The only reason I may even consider keeping in any type of contact is because I know how much it means to Noah.

And for all that he’s done for me, does for me, and is willing to do for me, I owe him.

I’ll probably always owe him.

“To my oldest son, Noah,” Peter briefly meets eyes with him. “There is a college trust left behind for Shelby and an additional fund you may use for the next grandchild, which I am sad I will not get to meet. You will also be left my stocks and all other investments. You were always better at them than me.”

My brother fondly smiles.

“I will also be leaving you the beach house on South Haven Island. It – like this house – is completely paid for. I’m hoping you succeed in fixing this broken family and become the man of it, which is something I’ve come to accept, I never managed to do.”

Noah teary-eyed nods prompting me to drop a strong hand on his shoulder.

The instant he meets my stare, I nod in encouragement.

I’m willing to keep trying.

Not because I owe that asshole anything, but because the future Collins children deserve something we never had.

And there will be plenty of future generations of Collins.

Shelly was telling Pres as soon as Shelby hits two they will be trying again, and Presley has expressed her desire to me – and my sister-in-law – to have lots of children when we’re in a more stable place all around.

We’ll get there.

I fucking know we will.

“And lastly, to my youngest son, Ryder.”

Joy.

“It’s hard to say anything that I think you’ll listen to. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re in the room.”

Makes two of us.

“I thank Noah for that.”

And I fucking blame him.

“I want you to know – everyone to know – that I’m sorry for the way I mistreated you. You deserved a father yet were cursed with me.”

“Accurate,” I mumble to myself only to receives a throat clearing of disapproval by my brother.

“While there is no true compensation for shitty parenting, please take this money and build the future you deserve. The future you have earned. The future I once robbed from you.”

There’s an emotional twitch that occurs on my face.

“I am leaving you whatever is in all of my checking and savings accounts both domestic and foreign. The sum – depending on the time of my demise – should be roughly 6.2 million after taxes.”

Disbelief darts my eyebrows down. “What…in…the-”

“That’s after fucking taxes?!” Liz squawks, hands flapping around. “Does it say that? Does it actually fucking say that?!”

Peter nods in her direction. “It does.”

“Wait, a goddamn minute!” Mom screams from across the room, sending all eyes to her. “I get photo albums or scrapbooks or whatever is on these tackily painted walls, and he gets six million dollars?!”

“6.2,” the attorney states, politely revising her declaration.

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