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  I watched her stand there, her balled-up fists trembling at her sides while she processed all that was happening. I could see the fiery stare accompanied with her swirling mind, and I had half a notion to think she was going to slug the lawyer. Her shoulders were rolled back, and her muscles were pulled taut, and just as quickly as the soft side of her appeared, it had dissipated.

  And in its place was the spoiled, entitled brat I’d always grown up with.

  “It’s bullshit, and you know it,” she said.

  “It’s apparently what your father wanted,” I said.

  “You don’t even want the company. I spent the entirety of my education grooming myself to take over his company. And what the hell did you do with your time?” she asked.

  “Not that,” I said.

  She spun around on her heels, and her chin-length hair flew around her face. Her anger was turned on me, and I couldn’t help but sit back further in my chair. If there was anything I was familiar with, it was Stella’s wrath when she was angry, but the lawyer’s voice broke through the tension before she could get any ideas about breaking my nose.

  “I am prepared to read Christian’s mother’s letter. Would you like to stay for it?” the lawyer asked.

  And in response, all Stella did was pick up her purse and head for the door. Her footsteps fell heavily on the floor as she headed down the hallway, and the slamming of a door accompanied her furious departure as I let out a breathless chuckle.

  “You can take that as a no,” I said.

  “Would you care for me to read this aloud, Mr. Gunn?” the lawyer asked.

  “Sure, why not,” I said, shrugging.

  “My beautiful son,” the lawyer began, “if this letter is being read to you, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m not there to see you grow into the man I know you are destined to be.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry that I couldn’t pull the full potential out of you that I saw. From the time you were young, you devoured everything I gave you. Food, drinks, clothes, magazines. You read through my own files from work even though I told you not to and you could spout the facts back to me while only looking at them once. I knew, from the moment you were little, that you had an incredible mind.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in through my nose when the lawyer paused. This letter wasn’t anything like the one Stella’s father left her. My mother hadn’t yet said how proud she was of me, and something inside my chest broke.

  “School bored you because you were too smart for the classes, but I didn’t try hard enough to get you moved up. You never enjoyed college because you could always outsmart the professors, and I didn’t fight for your chance to stay enrolled. They thought you were being insubordinate, but I knew you were simply being the intelligent boy I’d given birth to. I didn’t fight hard enough for you, and I’m sorry.”

  I felt a lump rise in my throat. While Stella’s father’s letter was peppered with praise and adulation, my mother felt the need to continually apologize for not being enough. She felt the need to tell me she was sorry for me not growing into the man she thought I could be, and the thought made me sick.

  She died thinking she had been a disappointment as a mother.

  “What I want you to know is that I loved you. I loved you from the moment I found out I was pregnant, and that’s why I left your birth father. I swore to myself I’d make sure my child was raised with the best. I found your stepfather and knew he was the best. I knew he would be able to raise you the way your birth father couldn’t, and that was enough for me. I knew your stepfather would be a stable role model that brought you encouragement and smiles instead of pain and hurt. But, in some ways, I feel like even that was a detriment to you.”

  My birth father was an abusive asshole. My mother didn’t really talk about him, so the only things I knew about him were the digging I did as I got older. I knew he had a temper, and I knew he had a criminal record. I was able to pull it up and see the laundry list of domestic abuse charges against him. When I realized the type of disgusting man he was, I stopped asking my mother about him. I wanted her to finally be free of him, despite the curiosity I had, and I decided that’s what was best for her.

  What was best for us.

  “Are you alright for me to continue?” the lawyer asked.

  “Yeah, yeah. Go on,” I said.

  “I love you with all my heart, Christian. You’re my baby boy, and I always loved you. I wanted to raise you to be a better man than your birth father could have ever been, but in the process of making you a good man, I neglected to teach you how to be a successful one. Please forgive me, my sweet baby boy. I never meant to stunt you in any way.”

  I felt a tear ricochet down my cheek, and I wiped it away before the lawyer saw it. My eyes drifted from the desk to the window, and I paused to take in the wind whipping through the trees. My mother was apologizing to me because she felt my lack of drive was her fault, and I thought I could taste my lunch in the back of my throat. My mother was a good woman, a strong woman. One that loved with a steadfast heart and always had her doors open for anyone to come through. If you were there, she fed you. If you stayed the night, she had clothes for you. If you came in needing a shoulder to cry on, she’d soak up your tears. And then she would feed you so you wouldn’t leave hungry.

  My mother died thinking my lack of drive was her fault.

  And that shit wasn’t going to fly with me.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked.

  “Be kind to your stepsister. There’s a reason for everything she does. When your stepfather and I are gone, you two will be all there is. Treat each other kindly, and try to see past your differences. You will be better for it. I love you, my sweet ray of sunshine. Signed, Your Mother,” the lawyer finished.

  “Is that all?” I asked.

  “That’s it. The company is yours. Your mother didn’t have anything to leave you but the belongings she left in the house,” the lawyer said.

  “Then, I guess I better get going,” I said.

  “What are you going to do?” the lawyer asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Hmm?”

  “About the company. What are you going to do?”

  I stood and buttoned my coat while my eyes continued to gaze out the window. In no way did I feel my mother saw me as a disappointment, but she sure as hell made it clear she didn’t think her job with me was done. She thought she sacrificed making me successful for making me decent, which meant I needed to work on the job she thought she didn’t do.

  I needed to make sure her wishes for my life were completed.

  “I’m going to run it,” I said, connecting my stare with the lawyer. “I’m going to run Harte to Heart.”

  Chapter Four

  Stella

  I slammed my fists down onto the hood of my car before I sighed in frustration. How in the world could my father leave his entire company, his empire that he built, to an overgrown man-child who wasn’t even capable of pulling a regular paycheck? When I declared my major in college, he tried to steer me away from it, feeling like I was following too closely in his tracks. He wanted me to find my own thing, something that rang true inside me and wasn’t a reflection of his interests.

  I guess that should’ve been my first hint that my father felt me incapable of running his damn company.

  But, how the hell could he leave it to my stepbrother? He was the most incompetent person I’d ever met! He was intelligent, yes, but he was lazy as hell. He couldn’t ever stick to his education; he’d roll his eyes and mouth off to the professors in class, and he couldn’t ever just fall in line and do what needed to be done. He thought the rules had to change just because he didn’t like them, and his entitled little attitude got him kicked out of numerous colleges.

  He was a waste, and my father had handed his entire legacy over to him.

  I turned around and sat on the hood of my car while my body trembled. I could feel my
skin flushed with anger, and rightfully so. Companies stayed in families. It’s just what they did. Parents built empires and handed them over to their children on a daily basis, and Christian wasn’t his damn child! Not by a long shot!

  What the fuck had just happened?

  “Stella?”

  I stood to my feet and whipped around as I saw Christian approach. His dirty blond hair blew in the wind while his dark blue eyes mocked me from afar, and I could feel my blood boiling underneath my skin. He was a brat when we were growing up, and he was a brat now.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I was hoping you’d let me take you to lunch. I really think we should talk,” he said.

  “Yes, we do. We need to fill out the paperwork that transfers the company over to me since you don’t want it,” I said.

  “Let me take you to lunch,” he said again.

  “I’m perfectly capable of buying my own lunch,” I said.

  “Then accompany me to a meal we will mutually pay for,” he said.

  “Did you get the paperwork?” I asked.

  “What paperwork?”

  “I’m sure the lawyer has paperwork in his office to transfer the company over. Did you get it?” she asked.

  “Would you just get in your damn car and follow me to lunch?” he said.

  “Why the hell do I have to follow you? I’ve got a perfectly good place in mind,” I said.

  “Then all you had to do was say so, Stella.”

  “Fine! Get in your car and follow me!” I exclaimed.

  I ripped my door open, got in my car, and slammed it shut. I was in control of this situation whether he liked it or not, and he was going to have to get used to that. I didn’t want to do this over lunch, but it would probably be the easiest way. If we could get all the paperwork filled out over food, we could find a notary and have this entire debacle settled before dinner.

  Before dinner: that sounded good to me.

  I whipped out of the parking lot and barreled down the road, bypassing every single joint I knew Christian would’ve dropped into. Business tactics not only required intelligence and knowledge, but they also required a certain amount of psychological posturing.

  And I was wonderful at that.

  I watched my father run a business my entire life. I sat at his feet while he talked me through his day and all the things he had to do. He introduced me to things like invoices and talked me through how meetings with clients went. He taught me about finances and expansions, how warehouses worked and how salaries were negotiated. The whole of my childhood was spun around my father and the business he had built, and I knew all I had to do was bide my time until it was time for me to take over.

  I obtained my two-year degree to become a paramedic so I could help others. That’s all I wanted to do. My father’s business helped people in this community in ways I could’ve never dreamed, but he always encouraged me to find my own path. He always encouraged me to find my own way and go my own route. So, I got a two-year degree, became a paramedic, and started saving up to get my Bachelor’s in health and nutrition. I already knew the business side of it. I was raised in it. Steeped in it. What I needed was a degree that solidified my intelligence in the health and wellness community.

  And then he handed over the fucking company to him.

  I pulled into my favorite restaurant, one that Christian couldn’t stand from the time we were children, and I got out of the car and went to go get us a booth. I’d ordered us both glasses of water by the time he scooted into the seat in front of me, but he didn’t pull out any papers when he sat down.

  “Where are the documents?” I asked.

  “Let’s just talk first,” he said.

  “I’m good, you’re good. My job’s going well; I’m sure you’re in the middle of finding another one. My house is great; your apartment is probably all good and well. Small talk over,” I said.

  “Stella, take a breath,” he said.

  “I’ve taken several since you sat down.”

  “Then take another one,” he said.

  “What would you like to order?” the waiter asked.

  “I’ll have a small Caesar salad and a cup of your French onion soup,” I said.

  “And I’ll have a cheeseburger with bacon and a double order of fries,” he said.

  “You’ll croak before you’re 40,” I said.

  “You’d probably like that, too,” he said.

  “So, tell me,” I said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “I know you know,” I said.

  “Know what?” he asked.

  “Why my father is making us go through all this before I take over the company. He and I agreed when I first started my schooling that I would take over the business when he passed. Did you and he concoct this somehow to try and draw us closer?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to be any closer to you than I have to. Why would I come up with something like that?” he asked.

  “Then tell me why the hell my father just handed over his entire legacy to someone who isn’t even his child,” I said.

  Christian held my gaze for quite some time before he grabbed his water. I eyed him carefully while he took a sip of it, his mind obviously debating on how to respond. It was harsh but true. Christian wasn’t his son, nor was he my brother. His intelligence didn’t make up for his incompetence and his lack of drive to better himself in life, and he was going to single-handedly run my father’s company into the ground.

  There had to be another reason why this was happening, because I refused to believe the end result was Christian running Harte To Heart.

  “I was very much your father’s son, whether you want to believe that or not,” he said coolly.

  “Believe all you want, but my father promised me his company,” I said.

  “I think what you remember is your father telling you he approved of your degree as long as it was something you wanted to pursue. I don’t recall anything in that conversation about him giving you Harte To Heart,” he said.

  “It was implied. Everything with my father was always implied,” I said.

  “Was it? Or did you want it to be to cushion the world you made up in your mind?” he asked.

  “There is no possible way you can run the company, Christian. You couldn’t even hold down the managerial job at that retail store you worked at,” I said.

  “I was right on their policy,” he said. “There was no reason why that woman couldn’t work in the same area as her ex-husband so long as they kept kosher.”

  “That wasn’t your decision to make. You’ve always been terrible at knowing your place,” I said.

  “Why the hell do people need ‘a place?’” he asked.

  “Because that’s how the entire world works. You put in your due, you follow the rules, you get the degrees you need to get, you spend the time learning what you need to learn, and then you are put in a position based on your hard work and dedication to do what you want!” I exclaimed.

  “Which is absolute bullshit,” he said.

  “And your lazy ass would think that,” I said.

  “Look, I don’t know why your father chose me to run the company,” he said, “but he did. And you have to come to terms with that. You didn’t feel the need to stay for the reading of my mother’s letter, but did you know what it said?”

  “I bet you’re going to tell me,” I said.

  “Yeah, I am. She died thinking my lack of success was because she chose to raise me to be a decent man over raising me to be a successful one.”

  “You’ve never done anything productive with your life, Christian,” I said. “How the hell do you expect to run this company? Success isn’t defined by running a company; it’s defined by being happy with what you’re doing.”

  “Well, I’ve been happy,” he said.

  “Job-hopping and never knowing where your next paycheck will come from?” I asked.

  “Money and jobs don’t make people happy, Stella,” he said
.

  “Then you’ll have no issues handing over a company that will make me happy.”

  “I’m not handing the company over to you,” he said.

  “You said so yourself that you don’t want it. That you’ve been happy job-hopping and all that bullshit. So, why is this such a hard thing for you to do?” I asked. “Are you finally happy you got the one-up on your bratty, spoiled stepsister?”

  I watched him falter for a split second before I felt a smirk crawl across my face.

  “What? You don’t think I know what my own stepbrother thinks of me? I grew up with you, Christian.”

  “Yeah, we grew up together, and do you know what my favorite memory is of you?” he asked.

  “The time where I ran into the door and broke my nose?” I asked.

  “No, it’s not nearly that funny,” he said. “It’s when I saw you vulnerable.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Yeah. In the lawyer’s office, you faltered. Just for a few seconds. Your vulnerability shined through, and I’ve only seen it one other time. It’s my favorite memory of you.”

  “My vulnerability is your favorite memory,” I said. “Alright, then when was it?”

  “You were sitting underneath that weeping willow tree reading a book. It must’ve been a very funny book because the laughter and snickering I heard all the way in the street was completely unidentifiable. You were sitting against the trunk of the tree while I was riding my bike, and I ditched my bike to figure out what that damn noise was. It was airy, and sort of sounded like someone was choking on chips,” he said.

  “Uh huh,” I said, nodding.

  “When I found the source of the noise, I realized it was you laughing. Your cheeks were red, and your lips were curled up, and I just stood there watching you for five solid minutes while you lost yourself in this entire world. This world you created in your head that was obviously full of beauty and humor, unfolding right before your eyes. You let yourself get lost in it. You let yourself be vulnerable. It’s my favorite memory of you.”