I might have had the better grades, higher SAT scores, and more trophies on the shelf, but I’m positive no one ever called Sabrina an asshole, or punched her in the face, or told her she had the emotional sensitivity of a wood chip. She knew how to make people feel good about themselves. She made the world a better place.
Me? I know how to run a club and have a good time. What I make is money.
Which is why I’m stunned half an hour later when the lawyer reads Sabrina’s will, in which she’s left her children to me.
Three
London
“I’m sorry—what?” I put a hand in the air to stop the attorney from going on. “Can you repeat that last part?”
One glance across the conference table at Ian tells me he’s just as shocked as I am to have heard his name listed as primary guardian of Sabrina’s kids. His face has gone pale.
The attorney at the head of the table reads it again. “If my husband does not survive me and I leave minor children surviving me, I appoint as guardian of the person and property of my minor children my brother, Ian Chase. He shall have custody of my minor children, and shall serve without bond. If he does not qualify or for any reason ceases to serve as guardian, I appoint as successor guardian my friend London Parish.”
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute.” Ian’s deep voice fills the room as he rises to his feet, one hand on his chest. “Are you saying she left the kids to me?”
We all glance at the empty chairs where the kids, tearstained and exhausted, had been sitting until a few minutes ago when Christopher volunteered to take his younger siblings to find something to drink. The poor kid is shouldering such a huge burden, trying to be strong for his sisters while dealing with his own grief. And those sweet little girls—Morgan is at that age where she needs her mother more than ever, and darling Ruby has hardly spoken a word since we got the news. My heart aches for them.
“Yes.” The attorney looks at Ian. “You weren’t aware of her wishes?”
“No. When was this will made?”
The attorney glances down at the paper in his hands. “Actually, it was signed only recently. Last month, in fact. The fifth of March.”
“She never said anything to me about it.” Ian, clearly agitated, loosens the knot in his tie.
“Or me,” I say, trying to wrap my brain around this. Why would Sabrina and David choose Ian, of all people? I was distraught by the thought that her parents might be taking the kids to Florida, but at least I was somewhat prepared for that news. This is a total bombshell. I’m torn between feeling glad that the kids won’t be leaving and hurt that Sabrina chose her irresponsible, heart-breaking, playboy brother to raise her children instead of me. What kind of example will he be?
“Are you sure it doesn’t say Philip Chase?” Sabrina’s mother, Nancy, asks. She’s gripping her husband’s hand with both of hers, and her voice shakes.
“Yes. Look again, please.” Silver-haired Philip speaks with the authority of a retired general, and the attorney does as requested.
“No, it says ‘my brother Ian Chase.’” He looks at Ian again. “I assume you are her brother?”
“Yes. But I—”
“Ian,” Nancy says, looking up at her son. “If you don’t want them, we can take them.”
“I never said I—”
“I want them,” I announce, rising to my feet. “If Ian won’t raise them, I will.”
“Can everyone just wait one fucking minute?” Ian puts both hands out, one toward his parents and one toward me. In the chair next to me, David’s mother gasps. She and David’s father are Christian missionaries, and Ian’s foul mouth probably offends her. I can’t imagine what she’d do if she witnessed the debauchery at one of his pool parties.
“I never said I didn’t want the kids,” he goes on. “I’m simply digesting the news.”
“But Ian,” his mother says, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “You’ve never had children. You don’t know how to take care of them.”
“She doesn’t have children either.” He gestures toward me. “What makes her so qualified?”
Remaining on my feet, I lean forward and brace both hands on the table. Clearly the uneasy truce we’ve had all week is over. “I love those kids like they’re my own. I know everything about them.”
“I do, too.” His eyes are a piercing blue, and the way he’s got them focused on me, like I’m the only person in the room, is unsettling. It drives me insane that I still find him attractive after all these years. I hate it.
“Oh, really?” I challenge. “What grade is Christopher in?”
“Ninth.” His expression is smug.
Damn. He got it right. “When’s Morgan’s birthday?”
He looks a little less sure of himself. “January . . . tenth?”
Ha! “Twelfth. What does Ruby call her stuffed panda?”
That one stumps him completely.
“Fred,” I announce, glaring at him. “She calls him Fred.”
Ian runs a hand through his dark blond hair. “Look, just because you’ve memorized more random facts about them doesn’t mean you love them more than I do.”
“No, but it means I’m better qualified to raise them. You’re a nightclub owner, Ian. Gone all hours. And when you are home . . .” I let that sentence dangle for a moment.
“What?” he demands, his brow furrowing. “Fucking say it, London.”
Another gasp from my left.
I straighten up, lifting my shoulders, determined to show everyone that I am clearly the better choice. “I’m not sure your home environment is the best one to raise children in, that’s all.”
“And why’s that?”
“You want me to say it? You want me to talk about all the parties and the drinking and the women and the loud music?”
He rolls his eyes, which infuriates me.
“Some people are sleeping at three AM, Ian,” I snap.
“Some people don’t have lives.”
“Some people are as rude and insensitive at thirty-seven as they were at nineteen.”
“Some people hold a grudge for way too long.”
The attorney clears his throat as Ian and I continue to glare at each other across the table. “Mr. Chase, your sister and brother-in-law wished for you to be the primary guardian of their children. Are you prepared to assume that responsibility?”
“Yes.” He never takes his eyes off me.
“Good. Now if you’ll both be seated, I’ll finish reading the wills.”
Neither of us wants to be the one who sits first—it would feel like losing the standoff—but since I have manners (unlike some people), I take my seat once more. After tightening the knot in his tie, Ian sits too.
The attorney finishes Sabrina’s will and moves on to David’s, but my mind keeps wandering. I simply cannot get over the fact that Sabrina and David wanted Ian to raise their children. What were they thinking? Was it because he was blood and I wasn’t? But he’s irresponsible, stupid, and smug. An overgrown man-child, not father material. Sabrina told me many times that he needed to grow up and stop his partying. Did she think giving him her children was going to magically make him become an adult? They didn’t even ask him to watch the kids when they had a date night, let alone when they took a rare trip on their own! There was a reason the children were at my house when that plane went down—Sabrina trusted me to best take care of them. She knew I loved them like my own. And since it looks like I won’t ever have any . . .
I stop myself from going down that path. This isn’t the time.
From across the table, I sense Ian looking at me, and my body grows warm beneath my black suit. I shift uncomfortably in my chair and try to focus my attention on what the attorney is saying about estate taxes and beneficiaries. But a moment later it’s all too much, and my throat begins to tighten.
Sabrina is gone. My best friend for the last twenty-five years—since we were ten, and I was the new girl at school without any friends and too sh
y to say hello to anyone. I sat alone on the bus and fought off tears, feeling the other kids’ eyes on me and praying desperately that they wouldn’t make fun of my glasses or my lunchbox or my clothing or anything else children can be cruel about.
Then she got on the bus. I knew right away she was well liked by the way kids greeted her. Even the driver called her by name, returning her “good morning” and her smile. Our eyes met, and next thing I knew, she was heading up the aisle and sliding into the seat next to me.
“Hi,” she said. “Are you new?”
I nodded.
Her smile grew brighter. Wider. “I’m Sabrina. What grade are you in?”
“Fifth,” I managed.
“Same as me.” Her eyes were kind—big and blue, and framed by thick black lashes. The same eyes boring into me from across the table, but hers had been far friendlier.
We were inseparable after that. Her best friend had moved to California the previous summer, and we discovered we had a lot in common. Obsessed with boy bands, but still secretly liked to play Barbies. Dying to get our ears pierced but scared of the needle. Curious about boys, but disgusted by the thought of actually kissing one.
Every possible rite of female passage, we went through together. We told each other everything. We made no decision without asking the other for advice. We traded clothes and books and shoes and secrets.
She was there for me when Ian broke my heart and understood why I had a hard time trusting men after that. I was there for her when she discovered she was pregnant at age twenty, and stood by her side when she married David. I loved her with my whole heart. With tear-filled eyes, I risk a glance across the table.
Ian now gets the very best and only part of her that’s left—those kids.
“Do you have any questions?” the lawyer asks, snapping me out of my memories.
“Does the will state anything about her wishes as to where the kids will live? Maybe a letter? An instruction guide?” Ian asks. “My sister was a planner, she had to leave me something telling me what to do.”
He’s ridiculous. He would know all that if he wasn’t so self-absorbed. “She’d want you to live in her house. It’s their home.” I grip the table. “How could you even think about taking anything else away from them? You need to give them stability.”
“I’m asking a question, not making a choice.”
“Well, you need to get a clue and a life not centered around yourself.” I glare as I spit the words.
“Ironic coming from you. You live alone, with your cat. At least I have a life.”
I roll my eyes. “The point is that it’s not about you. For some reason, Sabrina thought you’d do the right thing by her kids.”
Ian flinches slightly at Sabrina’s name. As much as I hate him, I know he loved her. She was our rock in this world. I see how much thinking of her hurts him.
Ian runs his hand down his face. “And you’d move out of your house?”
Without a second thought. “For them? Yes. I’m not worried about myself in this situation.”
His jaw ticks as he stares me down. “Obviously, my sister trusted my judgment or she wouldn’t have named me their guardian over some people.”
“That’s enough!” Nancy yells, pushing her seat back. “You two are all they have right now. Don’t you see that? You both have been a part of their lives more than any of us. Those kids are going to be lost and looking to the people they love for support and guidance. If you can’t stop this bickering, then it’s going to be at my grandchildren’s peril.” She wipes the tear that descends her cheek. “We’re all in pain, but Sabrina and David trusted you, so don’t fail them. Stop all this nonsense and focus on what’s important.”
Nancy is overcome with emotion and leaves the room with Philip following her. Shame floods me as her words sink in. I don’t know what to say. Nancy is right. Sabrina chose Ian for some reason, and I have to honor her wishes. I’ll still be there for them, loving them just like I would’ve if she and David were alive. Sabrina never did anything that wasn’t in her children’s best interest. We have to stop fighting because Chris, Morgan, and Ruby need all the family they have left.
“It’s very clear that Mr. and Mrs. Donegan wanted you both to be involved in their children’s lives.” The lawyer gets to his feet while gathering the papers. “I’ll give you both a few minutes to digest everything that’s happened today. As for a letter or an instruction guide, she left these and asked that they be read in private. I’ll have them for you on your way out.” He gathers a stack of envelopes in his hands.
I nod. “Thank you.”
He returns the gesture with a soft smile. “I’ve dealt with this too many times, Ms. Parish and Mr. Chase. Families are torn apart by loss and tragedy, but your sister was a sweet woman. She loved her kids and she loved her brother. She and her husband agonized over this. They truly considered every aspect.”
Ian grips the back of his neck. “She got that from my father. He taught us to prepare for any situation and always have a plan.”
“Yes, well, it was a good thing he did because we never know what will happen,” he says before walking out the door.
We’re quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that happened a few minutes ago settle around us. Sabrina wanted her children to go with Ian for some unknown reason. Maybe she explained it in a letter to me? Maybe the answer to what in the world was going through her mind is there. She was a planner, I know this, but it still makes no sense to me.
Ian’s eyes meet mine and I see the boy I knew a long time ago. “You can judge me all you want, London, but I love those kids.”
“Loving them and being there for them are two different things.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not a fucking teenager anymore. You need to get over yourself and what happened between us. Open your eyes and see who I am. I’m a successful business owner with a nice house, and everything I could want. Those kids are my sister’s kids and just because you’re hung up on who I was once upon a time doesn’t mean you know me now.”
“I live behind you,” I remind him. “I see the life you live. You work insane hours, and who is going to watch the kids when you’re at the club until four in the morning?”
Ian stands, moving to the window. “I’ll figure it out.”
“What about Ruby’s dance classes?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll take her.”
“Chris’s basketball? What about Morgan’s science project that’s due next week? Did you even know she was accepted into the advanced science program?” I keep pushing. “Oh, and what about on Saturdays when you’d normally be having your little sleepovers? Are you planning to have Morgan tuck them all in?”
He glares at me. So much anger radiates off of him. “Jealous?”
“Of them? Umm, no.” I almost gag. I’m not jealous of them because I would never want to be those girls. I want to be loved, desired, placed above everyone else. I feel bad for them. They’ll be tossed out the next morning like trash and a new wave will come in the next weekend.
“Look, London. I just found out that not only did I lose my sister and brother, who were also my fucking best friends, but I now have three kids! Do I have all the answers? No, but I’m a smart guy and I’ll manage just fine.”
“Great,” I huff. He doesn’t have a clue what all this means. It’s not just some overnight stay, this is the rest of their lives. It’s an entirely new way of living, but I’m sure he doesn’t even get that yet. He never sees the big picture.
“None of this is great,” Ian says, running his hand down his face. “Not a single thing about any of this is great. I shouldn’t be taking care of those kids, it should be their mother and father.”
Softening, I get to my feet, walk over to where he is, and place my hand on his back. “I’m sorry.” My words are full of remorse. “Sabrina was like a sister to me, but she was yours.”
He turns, his eyes full of emotion. “It doesn’t feel real
, you know?”
I do. I keep waiting for things that won’t ever come. My phone to ring, her to show up at my door because David told her to go do something for herself, a box to end up on my stoop that she ordered and is hiding from David, or my heart to stop hurting. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you . . .”
He snorts. “That’s all we do.”
“It doesn’t have to be. I’m not saying I like you or that we’ll ever be friends again, but we both love those kids. I want to be there for them, help them through this, and maybe the two of us can give them some hope.”
Christopher opens the door. “Aunt London, Uncle Ian?”
“Hi, honey.” I watched him become a man in just a few minutes when we found out about the crash. It was an instant switch.
“Ruby is really tired and Morgan won’t stop complaining about her cell phone dying. Can we go wherever it is we’re going?”
Ian looks to me, and then over to Chris. “Come on in and shut the door.”
“I don’t think—” I start, but Ian touches my arm.
“Your mom and dad left me as your guardian if something happened to them,” he tells Chris. “I want to talk to you, since you’re the oldest, and tell you that I would like you three to move into my house. I have plenty of room, the pool, the man cave, and your Aunt London is right in my backyard.”
Chris sits, his hands gripped tightly in front of him. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask. “You don’t want to stay in your house?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t. It’s too hard.”
Another sliver of my heart breaks off. “What about the girls?”
Christopher’s head drops. “No matter where we live, this is hard.”
I touch his cheek. “No one wants to make this harder,” I tell him. “If you want to stay in your house, your uncle and I will find a way.” I don’t care what’s on paper; I’m not going to tear another thing away from these kids.
“No, we’re going to give the kids a united front,” Ian commands from behind me. “I think it’s best if they stay in my home for the time being. If we need to make adjustments, we’ll do that.”
Hold You Close Page 3
