Page 26

“No, we don’t.”

“And it didn’t matter that he and his mother were members of the jarl?”

“You know as well as I do that it’s the will of the alpha, the head of the family, that determines what happens to the individual members. It’s the same today. Brothers or sisters of the alpha are only allowed to stay if the alpha agrees.”

“What if there’s more than one alpha in the family?”

“It’s birth order, always, unless the father makes some kind of dispensation, which, in the Wellington family, wasn’t done.”

I thought for a moment. “I think if Dad had a brother, he would have kept him as a member of the jarl.”

“I think if your father had a brother, we would have all been sharing a house just as Graeme Davenport and his family do with his brother, Stone, and his family. I think that’s lovely, and lupines do best with family near.”

“Yes, they do.” I barely got the words out.

She huffed out a breath. “In that vein, I’m going to ruin the surprise.”

“What surprise?”

“Your father and I have come to a decision. We’re keeping our home in Barcelona, because we love it, but we’re moving back to Chicago after the first of the year.”

It took me a second, because I was pondering Beriah’s fate. “I’m sorry?”

“Your father misses his son, his friends, work, golf, his wine cellar, and his favorite pub, in that order.”

My heart felt like it was going to explode. “You’re moving back?”

“Yes, darling. I miss bumping into you when I go to our favorite bakery. It turns out I’m even more fond of you than I thought.”

My eyes filled instantly.

“Absence does, in fact, make the heart grow fonder, and remind us of what’s truly important.”

I was so happy. I too had missed them more than I’d expected to. My bond with them was far greater than I’d originally thought.

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Perhaps.”

“You miss us.”

“Terribly.”

“You’re not a child anymore.”

“No,” I agreed, especially since I’d been thinking the exact thing earlier.

“But I am still your mother, and seeing you solely during the holidays simply won’t do. I have only a certain number of summers left on this earth and⁠—”

“Mother, you’re not even fifty,” I reminded her.

“I don’t care. Your father wants to get back to building, I miss my many affiliations and philanthropy, and my friends call every day and tell me how much I’m missed and how much everything has gone to absolute hell since I left.”

Her friends were certainly blowing things out of proportion, and I’d have to send them all enormous gift baskets in thanks. “Well, I’m over the moon.”

Her sigh was long. “I knew you would be.”

We were both silent for a moment.