be enough of a lover or a woman for one of them, or human enough to be worth more than hard cash to the other. Never valuable enough in her own right just to be loved.
‘Because you didn’t love them.’ Helena put down the brush. ‘Which makes me wonder again why exactly you’re marrying Flynn.’
Thea looked away from the mirror. ‘We’ll be good together. He’s steady, sensible, gentle. He’ll make a great husband and father. Our families will finally be one, just like everyone always wanted them to be. It’s good for the business, good for our parents, and good for us. This time I know exactly what I’m signing up for. That’s how I know that I’ve made the right decision.’
This time. This one time. After a lifetime of bad ones, Thea knew that this decision had to stick. This was the one that would give her a proper family again, and a place within it. Flynn needed her—needed the legitimacy she gave him. Thea was well aware of the irony: he needed her Morrison bloodline to cement his chances of inheriting the company, while she needed him, the adopted Ashton son, to earn back her place in her own family.
It was messed up, yes. But at least they’d get to be messed up together.
Helena didn’t say anything for a long moment. Was she thinking about all the other times Thea had got it wrong? Not just with men, but with everything...with Helena. That one bad decision that Helena still had to live with the memory of every day?
But when she glanced back at her sister’s reflection Helena gave her a bright smile and said, ‘You’d better get downstairs for cocktails. And I’d better go and find my pewter shoes. I’ll meet you down there, okay?’
Thea nodded, and Helena paused in the doorway.
‘Thea? Maybe he just wanted to see you again. Get some closure—that sort of thing.’
As the door swung shut behind her sister Thea wished she was right. That Zeke was ready to move on, at last, from all the slights and the bitterness that had driven him away and kept him gone for so long. Maybe things would never be as they were when they were kids, but perhaps they could find a new family dynamic—one that suited them all.
And it all started with her wedding.
Taking a deep breath, Thea headed down to face her family, old and new, and welcome the prodigal son home again. Whether he liked it or not.
* * *
It was far too hot to be wearing a dinner jacket. Whose stupid idea was this, anyway? Oh, that was right. His father’s.
Figured.
Zeke made his way down the stairs towards the front lounge and, hopefully, alcohol, torn between the impulse to rush and get it over with, or hold back and put it off for as long as possible. What exactly was his father hoping to prove by this dinner?
Zeke couldn’t shake the feeling that Flynn’s sudden burst of brotherly love might not be the only reason he’d been invited back to the fold for the occasion. Perhaps he’d better stick to just the one cocktail. If his father had an ulterior motive for wanting him there, Zeke needed to be sober when he found out what it was. Then he could merrily thwart whatever plan his dad had cooked up, stand up beside Flynn at this ridiculously fake wedding, and head off into the sunset again. Easy.
He hadn’t rushed, but Zeke was still only the second person to make it to the cocktail cabinet. The first, perhaps unsurprisingly, was Thomas Morrison. The old man had always liked a martini before dinner, but as his gaze rose to study Zeke his mouth tightened and Zeke got the odd impression that Thea’s dad had been waiting for him.
‘Zeke.’ Thomas held out a filled cocktail glass. ‘So you made it, then.’
Wary, Zeke took the drink. ‘You sound disappointed by that, sir.’
‘I can’t be the only person surprised to see you back.’
Zeke thought of Thea, standing in nothing but the underwear she’d bought for his brother, staring at him as if he’d returned from the dead. Was that really how she thought of him? In the back of his mind he supposed he’d always thought he would come back. When he was ready. When he’d proved himself. When he was enough. The wedding had just forced his hand a bit.
‘I like to think I’m a pleasant surprise,’ Zeke said.
Thomas sipped his martini and Zeke felt obliged to follow suit. He wished he hadn’t; Thomas clearly liked his drinks a certain way—paint-stripper-strong. He put the glass down on the cocktail bar.
‘Well, I think that depends,’ Thomas said. ‘On whether you plan to break your mother’s heart again.’
Zeke blinked. ‘She didn’t seem that heartbroken to me.’ In fact when she’d greeted him on his arrival she’d seemed positively unflustered. As if he was just one more guest she had to play the perfect hostess to.
‘You never did know your mother.’ Thomas shook his head.
‘But you did.’ It wasn’t a new thought. The two families had always been a touch too close, lived a little too much in each other’s pockets. And after his wife’s death...well, it hadn’t been just Thomas’s daughters that Zeke’s mother had seemed to want to look after.
‘We’re old friends, boy. Just like your father and I.’
Was that all? If it was a lie, it was one they’d all been telling themselves for so long now it almost seemed true.
‘And I was there for both of them when you abandoned them. I don’t think any of us want to go through that again.’
Maybe eight years had warped the old man’s memory. No way had his father been in the least bit bothered by his disappearing act—hell, it was probably what he’d wanted. Why else would he have picked Flynn over him to take on the role of his right-hand man at Morrison-Ashton? Except Zeke knew why—even if he didn’t understand it. He had heard his father’s twisted reasoning from the man’s own lips. That was why he’d left.
But he couldn’t help but wonder if Zeke leaving hadn’t been Ezekiel Senior’s plan all along. If he’d wanted him to go out in the world and make something of himself. If so, that was exactly what Zeke had done.
But not for his father. For himself.
‘So, you think I should stick around this time?’ Zeke asked, even though he had no intention of doing so. Once he knew what his father was up to he’d be gone again. Back to his own life and his own achievements. Once he’d proved his point.
‘I think that if you plan to leave again you don’t want to get too close while you’re here.’
The old man’s steely gaze locked on to Zeke’s, and suddenly Zeke knew this wasn’t about his father, or even his mother.
This was about Thea.
Right on cue they heard footsteps on the stairs, and Zeke turned to see Thea in the doorway, beautiful in a peacock-blue gown that left her shoulders bare, with her dark hair pinned back from her face and her bright eyes sharp.
Thomas clapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Welcome home, Zeke.’ But the look he shot at Thea left Zeke in no doubt of the words he left unsaid. Just don’t stay too long.
