Swing (Landry Family #2)(54)

“Sounds like you made the right choice then,” I say. “But why did you push Barrett into politics?”

My father takes a deep breath. “From the moment you all were born, I tried to find your strengths. Then push you into areas I thought you might like and things I thought you might excel doing. Barrett is a natural politician. Did I push him too much there? Did I hang too many of my own aspirations on his shoulders? Maybe.”

“I think you did. You know I think that.”

“I know,” he sighs. “And you’re probably right.” His lips press together, the lines on his face deepen. “You want to know what your strengths are?”

“I’m definitely the best looking.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re wrong. I am,” he deadpans, making me laugh. “You can do anything. You can do everything you want to do with such ease, it’s crazy.”

I still. I have never heard him talk like this before and I’m not sure whether he means it or if he’s going to start laughing.

“You are one hell of a baseball player, Lincoln. Watching you on the field, reading your name in the paper gives me so much pride . . . You’ll never understand it until you have a son of your own.”

“I just hope I haven’t fucked it up,” I say through the tightness in my chest.

“Here’s the thing,” he says, his hands on his knees as he watches a car come towards us on the driveway. “Regardless of what happens in your career, you’re going to be fine. There are seasons of our lives. Look at me. I was a businessman. Then a politician. Then a businessman again. Now, I’m thinking about retiring altogether.”

“You are?”

“Ford’s coming home. The company is branching out. Graham is doing a fine job.” He smiles softly. “I’m tired, Linc. I want to sit back and maybe have some grandkids driving me nuts. I want to take your mother on some vacations and have my phone stop ringing so damn much. I’m getting old, kid.”

My jaw is hanging open. I barely register the car has stopped and someone is walking towards us. I just look at him and watch him laugh at my reaction.

“What I’m saying is this: don’t worry too much. What’s done is done. We don’t always see eye to eye and part of that is because you’re a lot like your old man, Lincoln,” he chuckles. “You’re hard-headed. You’re a man’s man. You’re opinionated, and while that makes me want to strangle the life out of you sometimes, I also respect that.”

“Wow,” I whisper, exhaling a deep breath.

“Graham’s coming, so I want to say this quick and be done,” he says quickly. “Out of all my children, you are the one I worry about the least. Yes, I may second guess you and question your decisions, but it’s only because I want to make sure you’ve thought it through. But, like me, you’ll figure out a way to succeed. Nothing will hold you back.”

He pats me on the leg, stands, and heads across the lawn to meet Graham. I just watch, speechless, unsure as to what the hell just happened.





Danielle

“MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME.” VIVIAN Landry taps the side of a stool facing into the kitchen as she makes her way to the refrigerator. “How was your trip?”

“Good,” I say, not sure whether to sit or stand. She indicated to sit, but maybe I should stand. “Do you need help with anything?”

She glances at me over her shoulder, a warm smile splashed against her porcelain skin. “Don’t be silly. You’ve been traveling all day. Sit down and let me get you something to refresh you.”

Sienna waltzes in and joins her mom in the kitchen. She, however, hops on the counter top just like I’ve seen Lincoln do a million times. It makes me grin as I climb onto the stool.

They make me nervous. Not because they’re Lincoln’s family—I’ve met a guy’s family before. Not because they’re wealthy or so beautiful. It’s because they’re different. They are a family. They like each other. It leaves me a little uncertain how to proceed.

“What do you like?” Vivian asks. “Water? Hot cocoa? Tea?” She looks at her daughter. “When do we sit on counters, Sienna?”

“Come on, Mom,” she sighs playfully. “It’s the Farm. Not your house. I’m not tainting your counters with my as—behind.”

Vivian flashes her a warning glance. “Careful, little girl.”

Sienna reacts with a bubbly laugh and picks a piece of celery off a plate beside her. Twirling it in the air, she looks at me. “It’s nice to have you here, Danielle.”

“Thanks,” I blush. “It’s nice being here.”

“Will your family miss you for the holiday?” Vivian asks, pulling a tray with two pitchers on it from the refrigerator. A little bubble of panic floats to the top of my throat as I try to figure out how to tell these people I’m nothing like them. I’m more than relieved when she keeps talking and doesn’t wait on an answer. “I hate when my kids can’t come for Thanksgiving. It’s our favorite holiday, the one not marred by gifts and cards and money,” she says, shooting Sienna a look.

“I don’t ask for money,” Sienna shoots back. “Daddy just gives it to me.”

Vivian lets it go and instead pulls three heavy glasses from a mahogany cabinet. “You are spoiled rotten.”