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Sutter doubted they’d be gathering here for Christmas this year.
He wasn’t afraid of his future. He’d been born to it. Groomed for it. While other kids talked about becoming astronauts, Sutter knew his future would be in his family’s offices. He’d been taught the art of the deal along with arithmetic, how to run a board meeting along with baseball plays. He knew the public perception of wine-making was an elderly farmer lovingly growing grapes on a sunny hillside. Nightclubs were seedier, but the public face was fun-filled, alcohol-fueled.
The truth behind both businesses was much less genteel.
Sutter was the heir to Whitley James Wineries and the Winterwyne group of nightclubs. Both businesses were cutthroat and intensely competitive with huge overheads and high risks. The nightclub side of the business had suffered massively in the wake of the pandemic and was slowly edging back into the black. The winery side was suffering from climate change, with constant problems obtaining enough water for the vineyards and challenges with worldwide distribution after the pandemic’s closures.
Sutter knew he faced huge hurdles. He wasn’t afraid. Just weary.
How can I be this tired when I’m only twenty-two?He wondered.
Because he’d been carrying a second legacy for those two decades. He wasn’t just the heir to Whitley James Wineries and Winterwyne.
He was also his father’s heir. His mother’s poisoned rose.
Along with bedtime stories, his mother had poured vengeance in his ear. His first full sentence had been his promise to her that he’d avenge his father’s murder. That he’d never forgive, never forget.
His uncle would pay, not just with his freedom. That was too easy. His mother wanted his uncle’s ruin. Loss of everything that mattered to him. Wealth, social standing, the respect of his peers, the love of his family.
Sutter had to tear it all down while continuing to build the family business.
How can I even think about bringing a Little into my fucked-up life?
He’d asked himself that question over and over. Not with Brionna, because as much as he’d cared about her, they were both clear-eyed, level-headed, practical people. Brionna wanted to be diapered, fed from a bottle, spanked when she disobeyed. But school and her career always came first.
So, I began looking for someone who barely has a future.
He’d done his research on Saoirse when he’d first seen her at the pool, watching the Littles playing in the water with as much longing as he did. He knew about her swimming career. He’d read the sports press coverage about her Olympic aspirations. He’d found one terrible article titled “Olympic Swimmer’s Dreams Die in Botched Op.” He’d seen the scars and noticed when she’d excused herself after dinner to take her medication. He looked into her eyes and saw a field as barren of hope as his own internal plain.
But he’d also seen her eyes light in wonder when he’d kissed her on the forehead after releasing the frog. He’d felt her contagious joy as they’d hopped in their sleeping bags and watchedBrave. He’d fallen asleep to the peace of holding her hand.
He knew what his future held. He knew he was running into difficulty and darkness.
He wasn’t sure he could come out the other side without a Little’s hand held firmly in his.
Sutter felt it from the first time they’d met. More than the sparkle of attraction. It was the tug of a kindred soul. It had gotten steadily stronger over the weeks. Now, it burst like fireworks in his chest every time he thought about Saoirse. It was more than infatuation. He’d felt that before with his girlfriends in college: the best buzz, without the morning hangover. What he felt for Saoirse—withSaoirse—was different.
It was the kiss of recognition. Two fractured parts of one whole meeting for the first time.
He knew it was too soon to call her, to ask her for more. But after spending a half-hour pacing around his kitchen, aimlessly taking out fixings for dinner and putting them away, he pulled out his phone.
As he was about to dial, the phone rang. His heart leaped for a moment.
Then the caller’s name popped up.Mom calling.
He swiped to accept the call. “Mom, everything okay?”
He already knew everything was fine. She wouldn’t be calling if things weren’t fine. They had their own private code for emergencies, which her husband had never cracked.
“Perfect, dear,” she said breezily. Everything was perfect with his mother. Always. Perfect life. Perfect wife. Perfect hostess. Perfect mother. And it was all a lie. “Everything fine at the ranch?”
“Uh-huh. All good. Thanks for having Lorraine send the tickets. I got them this morning.”
“Are you sure I can’t send the jet for you?”
“Mom, no.” Sutter chuckled. “The environmentalists will have our heads if you send the jet all the way to Montana just for me. A commercial flight’s fine.”
“Well, I had Lorraine upgrade you. Economy is appalling and it’s a long flight.”
