Page 30 of Just a Grumpy Boss

“And what’s the best way to support him, Mom?” Oliver asks. “How do we know that if he can’t even tell us a single thing about his life or where he’s at? How can we support him?”

“Well . . .” Mom’s gaze darts among her sons. “We can try to be patient with him, and we can be there for Quinn and Navie.”

“Quinn’s the ex, Mom,” Alec says. “She doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

“Has she said that, though?” Oakley asks. Her mouth thins as she considers this. “We don’t know what kind of trauma she’s sustained from the divorce—”

There’s a silence in the room, filled with unspoken fears. Mom glances around, and I might have seen a tear or two in her eyes. “Let’s video call Milo,” she says. “It feels strange without him.”

“Yeah,” Oakley says. “We could try to video call Henry, too.”

“We can try,” Oliver says. “But he’s never answered our video calls before.”

The air trapped in my lungs leaves me in a rush. Like the rest of the family, I’m hurt by Henry’s absence.

But there has to be more to the story.

This thought is still jamming my mind early the next morning when Henry’s ex-wife, Quinn, knocks on my office door.

Chapter 15

Elianna

I’m wholly and completely unprepared for the scene unfolded before me as I enter Sebastian’s office.

Sebastian is not wearing a tie, the first time I’ve ever seen him like that. He’s relaxed on the sofa opposite me, his favorite place to sit during our morning meeting. A lazy smile has settled across his face, which he quickly rearranges when he sees me.

Wow. Thanks for scowling when I walk in the room, buddy.

A blonder, younger version of Sebastian is sitting on the floor nearby, his back against the sofa.

And in the middle of the floor, where the dollhouse on the ottoman used to be, a small child, with her light brown hair in twisted pigtails behind her ears, is building a tower using large, wooden blocks.

“Well, hi!” I stutter stop and gaze at the familial scene. Sebastian stands, something I’ve noticed he now does every time I arrive in the morning. I’d like to shake this man’s mother’s hand for raising such a gentleman. Apparently, it’s in the family, because the man whom I can only assume is his brother, does the same thing.

“Elianna.” In three steps, Sebastian is by my side.

There’s a frisson of energy pouring out of him. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t know whether to soak it all in or go running for the hills, because this is not the Sebastian I know.

“This is my brother, Gabriel. The philanthropy expert I was telling you about. And this is our niece, Navie.” Sebastian’s gaze at her is short, but so much is said in that one glance. A protectiveness that he’s trying—and failing—to rein in.

Navie glances at me.

“Say hi to Elianna, Navie,” Gabriel’s voice is gentle and he steps to me, his hand outstretched.

I shake his hand and then bend to shake Navie’s. “Hi, LeeLee,” she says, before looking back up at Gabriel.

“Hi, Navie,” I say with a grin.

“I heard you have experience with grant writing and other aspects of charitable work,” Gabriel says.

“I do. And I think Tate International needs to take a longer look at those possibilities.”

“She’s right,” Gabriel gives a pointed look at Sebastian before turning back to me. “You’re right. The impact of philanthropy is something more corporations and entities need to understand.”

“Gabriel works for our father.” Sebastian’s mouth twists to one side. “But he also does private consulting, which is the capacity he’s in today. Thought we could get some brainstorming done.”

“Perfect,” I say as I sit in my usual spot across from Sebastian.

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