earlier.’
Frankie’s eyes widened at the mention of sugary treats.
‘If that’s okay with your mamma,’ Max added, too late for her to possibly say no.
Maria felt a tightening around her heart, and it had nothing to do with Frankie eating too much sugar before bedtime. It had been just the two of them for so long now that the idea of being separated—even just by a few floors—felt strange.
‘We’re all family here,’ Noemi murmured, taking Maria’s hand and squeezing it. Her sister-in-law always had been too good at reading her. ‘And Max needs the practice anyway.’
Maria gave a stiff nod, placed a kiss on Frankie’s cheek, and watched as Max swept the toddler up into his arms, already talking about chocolate chips and candies baked into cookies.
‘He’ll be fine.’ Noemi squeezed her hand one more time before dropping it.
Maria sighed. ‘I know.’
‘The more important question is, will you?’ Noemi asked.
Sinking down onto the bed, Maria covered her face with her hands. Would she? Would she be okay, spending Christmas with the husband—and family—she’d left behind?
‘I have no idea,’ she admitted.
* * *
Alone.
Seb watched Maria and Frankie walk away, and felt the terrible word echoing around his mind. Through his heart.
Frankie hadn’t even known him when he’d answered the door, had shied away from him when he’d tried to hold him. He’d wanted to video call more often, but it was always so hard to find a time during his son’s waking hours. Maria didn’t even bother answering if Frankie was already asleep, usually sending a text later to explain.
But, looking at his son now, Seb wondered how he could ever have imagined that ten minutes of video once every week or so could ever be enough. The baby he’d held in his arms last Christmas had gone for ever. When Maria had left, Frankie had only just begun to crawl—now he seemed to run everywhere on sturdy legs that were nothing like the podgy, squidgy baby ones he remembered. Even in the four months since he’d last visited, Frankie had grown so much. His eyes were the same bright hazel as in the photo on his desk, but they no longer gazed trustingly up at him. Instead, they were puzzled, even wary.
As if he didn’t know Sebastian, his own papà, at all.
Seb clutched at the back of the nearest chair to steady himself. How had this happened? How could he have missed so much? And how could he ever get that time back?
You can’t.
The voice in his head sounded like Maria’s, like the day she’d left.
‘You can’t understand,’ she’d said that day. ‘You’re not capable of it. I see that now.’
Capable of what? he’d wanted to ask. But she had already gone, leaving him behind to deal with the business, and his family, and everything else that fell on his shoulders.
But none of it, he realised suddenly, mattered as much as the year he had lost. A whole year of his son’s life that he could never get back. Never experience as a father should.
That realisation hurt a thousand times more than learning that he had an older brother, that his parents had lied to him his whole life by never telling him about it. Hurt a million times more than learning that they’d left Leo the controlling share of the company that should have been his.
Hurt almost as much as hearing Noemi sobbing as she’d told him their parents were dead.
His parents were gone, soon Noemi would be disappearing with Max to wherever on earth his tiny country was, Maria would take Frankie away again, and all Seb would be left with was Leo—the brother he’d only discovered existed a month or so ago. And even he would probably head back to New York, and take the company Seb had given up his whole life for with him.
How had his life unravelled so completely in so little time?
Seb could feel it, spiralling out of his control, spinning his mind in tight circles until his head ached from trying to understand it all. His heart was too heavy in his chest, beating a sluggish, determined rhythm, reminding him that he, at least, still lived—even if his parents didn’t. That he still had a job to do, even if the one he’d expected had been taken away. That he still wanted, and felt, even loved—even if his wife had left him and his son didn’t recognise him.
God, Frankie. Maria.
He needed air. Cold, shocking, numbing air.
Good job he was in Mont Coeur.
Letting go of his support sofa, Seb staggered to the door and flung it open, gulping in the icy breeze as it hit his face. Then he stepped through onto the veranda, and stared out at the darkening mountains.
There was a whole world out there. So why did it feel like his had disappeared for good?
‘Sebastian?’ Leo’s voice came from behind him as he joined him on the veranda. ‘Are you okay? You look... Is it Noemi’s news?’
Seb barked a laugh. Noemi, his baby sister, a princess. A pregnant princess, at that.
At least one of them had gone after the life they’d wanted and had found it.
No, two of them. Leo seemed almost offensively happy with his new girlfriend, Anissa. They’d shared secret smiles and small touches and whispered jokes since they’d arrived, too, just like Noemi and Max. So clearly a pair, a couple—in a way he and Maria never had been. No doubt Max and his sister would be settling into what had once been his master suite in the chalet with babies and joy, taking over his home as easily as Leo had taken over his business.
‘Okay, look, why don’t we sit for a moment?’ Leo’s voice, calm and soothing, made Seb feel instantly guilty for his thoughts. As much as Seb resented being pushed out of the family business, even he had to admit it wasn’t Leo’s fault. He couldn’t blame his brother for the circumstances of his birth, the lies their parents had told, or even the will they had left behind them.
Much as he might wish he could.
Seb was a logical, rational man. He had to be, to be a success in his business. His father had instilled in him from birth the weight of expectation, the obligations Seb had to his family. And Seb had given everything he could to live up to them. He’d worked hard, done everything that had been asked of him.
And still it hadn’t been enough.
Not for his father, not for Maria, not for anybody.
He wasn’t enough.
Leo’s arm over his shoulder was a heavy weight leading him to the wooden bench on the veranda and pressing him down onto it.
Maybe if he’d had a big brother all along, rather than discovering him at the age of thirty-two, things would have been different. But he hadn’t.
‘Do
