The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(110)

He glares at me, exhales heavily, and walks around and gets into my car. “What?”

I hand him a packet of cigars, just like the ones that got wet. He frowns as he looks at them in his hand.

“Do you want to go see your dad?” I ask.

His eyes search mine, and he drops his head and stares at the cigars once more.





That means yes.


I pull out into the street, and after a very silent car ride, I park the car at the cemetery.

He climbs out, and I tentatively follow him through the tombstones. It’s beautiful here, with green lush lawns, and immaculately kept.





WADE ANDERSON


BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER

FOREVER LOVED, SADLY MISSED

I put my hands into my suit pockets as I look on. Harrison wipes the nameplate clean with his shirt and straightens the flowers, and I can tell that he comes here often.

Alone.

I get a lump in my throat as I watch him.

With a shaky hand, he opens the packet and gets out a cigar and carefully places it on the grave.

“Here they are, Dad,” he whispers. “Your favorite.”

I clench my jaw. This is too much.

He takes one out and holds it in his hand, and then he passes one to me.





I frown in surprise.


I take it, pull out a lighter from my pocket, and flick it on. He stares at me for a moment, shocked. I bend and light my cigar and inhale deeply, and then I hold it alight for him. He does the same. He takes in a big breath and coughs as he chokes, and I chuckle as I blow out the thin stream of smoke.

I hold the cigar up and look at it. “Not bad.” I smile. “You got good taste,” I say to the tombstone.

Harrison fights a smile as he takes another drag. He puffs the smoke out like a dragon, and I can tell he doesn’t normally smoke.

“This is Tristan,” Harrison says to the tombstone.

I smile and dip my head in a greeting. “Mr. Anderson.”

Harrison looks at me for a moment and then touches the tombstone. “You can touch it.” He pats it, as if to entice me.

He wants me to shake hands with his dad.

I walk over and put my hand on the top of the cold hard stone.

Goose bumps scatter up my arms, and a weird emotion overwhelms me.

In some strange way, I feel like this is the changing of the guard.

The family he loved . . . is now with me.

In my care, for me to love.

“Nice to meet you, Wade,” I whisper.





Claire

I watch the man in the expensive navy suit and perfect posture—the big-time city businessman who looks so out of place here. He slowly lifts the cigar to his lips and inhales deeply. He says something to the young boy he’s with, then exhales the smoke in a thin stream. His hand rests on the boy’s shoulder as they continue their conversation.

My heart constricts.

I lean up against the tree in the cemetery. Their silhouettes blur through tears as I watch Harrison and Tristan standing over Wade’s grave.

If someone cut my heart open with a knife, it would be less painful than watching this.

The man whom I love, taking my son to see his dead father . . . smoking a cigar with them. And I know that Harrison is too young to smoke, and they shouldn’t be doing this. I should be furious. I should be appalled . . . but then . . .

Wade loved cigars.

My chest shudders as I try to get a hold on my emotions.

This would be so special to Wade . . . having a cigar with his son.

I close my eyes, the pain unbearable.

I went to pick up Harrison from school so I could try to talk to him alone, and then I saw him getting into Tristan’s car, and I followed them here.

This is the last thing I expected to see.

I don’t want them to see me. I turn and walk back to my car, the tears streaming down my face. I get in, and without looking back, I drive home in tears.

I’m in love with a beautiful man.

I toss the salad in the bowl and glance at the clock. Seven o’clock. The boys have done their chores and are watching television.

My heart is bursting with love, and I am totally in awe of Tristan.

He did something, he did something very special for me . . . and for Wade—and to know that he has Harry’s back when I didn’t cuts my heart wide open.

I’ve just realized that he has a specialized skill that, no matter what, I couldn’t give my boys.

Perspective.

This is what they’ve been craving. This is what they’ve been missing in their lives.

No wonder I was struggling so hard with them. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

Harry didn’t mention going to the cemetery, and I haven’t brought up anything about the weekend. I’m acting normal because I’m not sure what to say. Whatever he and Tristan have talked about, he wants to keep to himself. If he wanted me to know, he would have told me.

The Aston Martin pulls up in the driveway. “Tristan’s here!” Patrick yells as he runs for the front door.

Fletcher caught the subway home. I’m not actually sure where Tris has been since then. I watch through the window as Patrick opens Tristan’s car door and talks a million miles per minute. Tristan listens and laughs. He’s so patient with him. He passes him his laptop bag, and Patrick proudly carries it in. Fletcher goes to the door to greet him, and Harry stays sitting on the couch.