Page 92 of Wild Promise

“You’re right.” She bit her lip, but the smile broke through anyway. “It’s really not.”

I handed Hope back before she could do any more damage and pulled Melina into my side. “These people are conspiring against me,” I muttered into her hair.

“These people are your family.”

My family. Fuck, they were. Every loud, chaotic, well-meaning one of them.

I spotted Glenn across the room by the fireplace, momentarily free from conversation, and caught his eye. He lifted his scotch glass in a subtle gesture. I kissed Melina’s temple, told her I’d be right back, and crossed the room.

Glenn clapped a hand on my shoulder as I approached. “How’s my co-owner?”

“Still figuring out what a co-owner actually does.”

“Mostly sign things and stay out of Wyatt’s way.” The warmth in his voice caught me off guard. He wasn’t a demonstrative man. Never had been. But the way he looked at me tonight was different. “I’m proud of you, Zane. I hope you know that.”

My throat tightened. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did. The buyout. All of it. I never asked for?—”

“I know, and that’s exactly why I did it.” He sipped his scotch. “Your great-grandfather built the place with his bare hands. And you walked away from all of it because you loved someone more than you loved yourself. That’s not weakness. That’s the most Alexander thing you’ve ever done.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded. Glenn nodded back. With the Alexanders, that was usually enough.

His eyes drifted to my jacket pocket, and the corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

“Might want to work on your subtlety,” Eric said, materializing beside us. “You’ve been touching your jacket pocket every thirty seconds since you walked in.”

Glenn just smiled and sipped his scotch.

The hours blurred together after that. More food, more drinks, more conversations that overlapped and tangled into each other. Someone turned the music up. A few brave souls started dancing in the living room.

As midnight approached, Sylvie herded everyone toward the living room with champagne flutes and sparkling cider for the kids who were somehow still miraculously awake. The TV was on, tuned to the countdown, but nobody was really watching it. The room was loud and warm and crowded with people I loved.

And Melina was beside me, her hand in mine, looking out at the snow falling through the window. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I pulled her closer. “Better than okay.”

“What were you and Glenn talking about earlier?”

“Business stuff.”

“Liar.”

I smiled. “I’ll tell you soon. I promise.”

She studied me for a moment, then let it go. Because that’s who she was. She trusted me to tell her when I was ready.

The countdown started.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

I looked around the room. My family. Every complicated, beautiful, messy part of it. The uncle who’d believed in me when no one else had. The aunt who’d fed me and fussed over me and never once made me feel like an outsider. Cousins building their own lives, making their own mistakes, figuring it out one day at a time. Just like me.

Seven. Six. Five.

And Melina. My firecracker. The woman who’d seen through every mask I’d ever worn and loved what she found underneath. Who’d fought for me when I was too busy fighting with myself.

Four. Three. Two.

I turned to her. She was already looking at me.