“Mrs. Sullivan Jones Blanchard, in my defense, I haven’t seen them in over a week. I miss my rambunctious rugrats.”
Six months after meeting my grandparents, I decided to change my last name. As an orphan, I thought my girl’s huge family was a bonus of falling in love with her. Finding out I have twolarge families in Texas changed my life.
Opting for a triple-barreled last name was for my kids and the generations to come. The Jones and the Blanchard families are prominent in this state and their blood run through my children’s veins. Combined, grandma Lore’s and grandpa Warren’s fortunes are north of a billion dollars. And that just blows my mind.
Grandpa Warren’s lawyers did all the legal heavy lifting to get the name change in the official records. I just had to take a DNA test and sign a lot of papers. The triple-barreled name is a mouthful. Granted, pretty much everybody still calls me Rhett Sullivan.
Since it all happened before I got married, it didn’t affect Carina. She took my new name when she became my wife.
Once that was done, my grandparents added me to the boards of their businesses. I even have a trust fund now. I went from an average guy to becoming part of two dynasties in a New York minute.
Grandpa suggested I join one of the many businesses he owns. I declined. Grandma told me I could work alongside my aunts and cousins. Once again, I declined.
I don’t know anything about wheeling and dealing. My grandparents’ businesses have been operating well without me for longer than I’ve been alive. There’s not much I’d be adding of value.
I sit in on board meetings whenever I can. I’ve learned a ton. My goal is to pass that knowledge onto my kids. As they grow up, they’ll have many options available to them.
As for me, six years later, and I’m still an in-demand model for a number of products. The list is too long to enumerate, butthe money I’ve made so far trumps anything I could’ve made on the rodeo circuit. That says a lot, considering at the height of my career I earned half a million dollars a year.
My face––and body––has also graced the covers of several hundred romance books. It’s mind-blowing.
I gave up working at the ranch three months after I got engaged. I couldn’t fit everything in. And I didn’t need the money. I was making more than enough with my modeling gigs, and that’s before the monthly payments from my trust funds started kicking in. I didn’t know how long I was going to be able to ride the modeling wave, but I was determined to milk it for all it’s worth.
I’ve not only upgraded my career, I’ve also upgraded my home with a new ranch stretching over thousands of acres. I bought a lot of reclaimed wood and old vintage fixtures from century-old buildings in neighboring towns that were being torn down or renovated. With the addition of modern touches, the farmhouse is the perfect blend of vintage and contemporary.
This is where my heart beats.
Our ranch is located not too far from Grandpa Warren’s sprawling estate. He wanted to build us a ranch within the gates of his property, but I refused. It’s not that I didn’t want to live with the rest of my family, but given the number of photographers I work with, it could’ve compromised on their privacy.
I don’t have to travel as much anymore. Nowadays, photographers flock down here. I have a large dedicated barn set up as a state-of-the-art studio for photography.
Not to mention, you can’t beat the picturesque setting Summerville has to offer. Not even the most talented set designer can recreate this level of authenticity. No siree. Mother Nature’s magical hands are all over the beauty stretching outside my door. No Photoshop needed.
These days, my modeling career is no longer full-time. When I’m not in front of the camera, I train horses––another reason to upgrade the ranch. I’m damn good at it and it keeps me working with the animals I love. Jake and Hunter are among my many clients.
I don’t need to work, but I’d go stir-crazy if I didn’t. It makes me a better man, husband, and father.
“I understand you miss the kids, but that’s not a good enough reason to get them this excited, Rhett.”
Carina brings me back to the moment.
“I’m sorry, wife.” I wink.
She shakes her head. “I swear to God, I’m not going to make it with two more.”
“You’re not alone in this,” I say. “My grandparents are a short drive away, the Callahans are a flight away, you have four little helpers, and a big strong one—me.”
“Maybe it’s not too late to return these babies to the factory.” She points at her round stomach.
“Wash your mouth out with soap, woman. Want it or not, the twins are coming out.”
“I can’t take two more boys.”
Our little clan is growing.
“More boys. More boys. More boys.” Our son Marlon chants as he marches in place like a soldier.
“No, no, no.” Our daughter Emmylou shakes her head. “Girl power. Girl power. Girl power.” She chants in her toddler voice.
