That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(90)

I reach in and pull out a wooden keepsake box. My fingers smooth over the glossy wood and I smile recalling the night I helped Hayden stain these. I sit down on my stool and eye all of my brothers meaningfully. “There was a special book inside the box that wasn’t full of recipes. It was full of poems. Poems that Mum wrote. I couldn’t read them for the longest time because they were written in Swedish. And it took some time for me to get them all translated. But that’s what I’ve done here.

“They all vary in topics, but the majority of them are her feelings she had during motherhood. And there’s several poems about you, Dad.” I stop and look at my dad whose eyes are rimmed as he stares at the box in my hands.

“I’m not sure I can read them,” he croaks and turns away, a faraway look in his eyes. Gareth eyes me seriously, speaking straight to my soul with unspoken words about the guilt our father must still carry with him.

Grabbing the box, I walk over to him and touch his shoulder. He shudders with emotion and Tanner and Camden’s eyes go wide in confusion. “You must read these, Dad. The way Mum spoke of you,” my voice cracks. “We should all be so lucky to find what you two had.”

Dad looks up to me. His dark blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as his chin betrays him with a mighty wobble. “I should have done better.”

I smile sadly. “You did what you could. Mum saw that. And she loved you fiercely. Even in the end. You’ll see.” I push the box toward him.

“Oh Vi,” he croaks and pulls me down into a fearsome hug. “Thank you, my darling.”

“You’re welcome, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He releases me and I see even Camden’s eyes red around the edges.

“Chin up, men. Let me pass these all out. I have specific boxes for you all because Mum also saved some crafts that we made for her as kids. Booker, your craft is quite awful, really…You were only one and very clearly untalented.”

Camden and Tanner howl with laughter. Dad places a reassuring hand on Booker’s shoulder all the while his belly is shaking with silent laughs. Booker frowns in annoyance. “That’s just cruel, Vi.”

I giggle and wink at him while peeking inside each box and handing them out appropriately. I carry Gareth’s over to him and notice that he’s been eerily silent this entire time.

“There’s a special one about friendship in there,” I say quietly to Gareth. “It’s called ‘Friendship Has No Age’ and I’m pretty certain it’s entirely about you.”

Gareth’s jaw clenches and he nods woodenly. They all open their boxes and begin shuffling through the poems that I had printed on special paper. “Dad, I put the Swedish originals in your box.”

“These boxes are beautiful,” Booker says, rubbing his fingers over the underside of the lid where Hayden burned an inscription on the interior:

Vilma Nystr?m Harris ~ Wife, Mother, Friend

An original soul always in our hearts.

“Hayden made them, actually. All of them. And he did the inscription.”

Booker’s eyes lift to mine and then flash over to Hayden. He frowns and croaks seriously, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hayden replies and the two of them exchange subtle nods. A peace offering, perhaps?

“You’re still not going to Barcelona,” Booker grumbles and everyone bursts into a mix of annoyed groans and laughs.

I smile at my dad and four brothers, who really aren’t all that dissimilar to Hayden in the end. Perhaps that’s how he was able to somewhat win them over. The whole lot of them are all brooding, protective, over-bearing, but completely devoted men, who care for you absolutely once you’ve breached their hardened hearts. I hope someday my brothers can all have their own love stories.

And Hayden has breached my heart for good. My soul sings as I stare at the crinkles in his eyes as he laughs along with the other important men in my life. Those crinkles are the sexiest road map to his happy place. A happy place that includes me.




It’s dark out by the time Hayden and I leave my dad’s. We head straight to my flat where we’ve been spending most of our nights. We do hang out with Theo, Leslie, and Marisa some, but the majority of our time is spent here. I think Theo and Leslie have been appreciating their alone time, especially since Marisa seems to be growing out of her fussy stage.

“Your brothers aren’t as tough as they seem,” Hayden says as we flop onto the wicker sunbed in my rooftop garden. The Chinese lanterns glow down on us, casting a warm, cosy ambience in the dark London night. “They’re all bark…no bite. Booker is lucky that I was feeling generous today.”

I grin as he tucks into my back and spoons me in that delicious way that turns him into the cosiest Hayden blanket. “Booker gets Barca, you get South of France,” I say with a comfortable sigh.

“Mmm, you could have told me you have some time off coming up before I got in a huge battle with your brother, you know,” he moans and nips my neck playfully. “But I forgive you…because I get to see you in a bikini.”

Cupping his head to my neck, I reply while he nuzzles, “Actually, I was thinking we could try one of those nude beaches.”

His nibbling halts instantly. “Like f*cking hell we will.”

I bite my lip to stop my giggle. “It’s all the rage there. And I do hate tan lines.”