Page 106 of Best Kept Vows

“Breedswith her?”

I raised my hands, palms up. “What can I say? That’s what the?—”

My phone rang, and I saw Hendrix’s name. I answered immediately and saw concern flash in Lia’s eyes. My father was fading. We saw it when we visited with him—and werewaiting for the call that either said his time was close or that he had passed.

Lia’s hand reached gently for mine, her squeeze conveying silent support as I talked to Hendrix.

I exhaled a long, shaky breath, the comfort of my wife’s presence helping to steady me amid the storm of my emotions.

According to Hendrix, the great Abraham Boone was taking his last breaths and had asked his family to come to him.

I closed my eyes briefly, and said, “We’ll be right there.”

Lia didn’t need clarification. She carefully laid her napkin on the table, rose gracefully, and moved to take my hand.

“I’ll drive,” she murmured.

She called the kids on the drive over to let them know that their grandfather was probably on his last leg.

“Dad, you want me to come over?” Ada asked.

“Yes, please.” I needed my family with me.

“It’s going to take me an hour, but I’ll be there,” my daughter assured me. “Mama, is he okay?”

Byhe, I knew she meant me.

“He will be,” Lia replied.

“I’ll check on flights,” Tristan whispered. “You take care of each other.”

I felt their generosity, their love, their affection, and their warmth.

I was one lucky motherfucker, I thought, to have this. I was never going to squander it again, never neglect it. Iwould nurture all of us, I vowed, as my father had never been able to do his family.

I wouldn’t make his mistakes—instead, I’d learn from them.

When we arrived at the house, the ambiance was heavy, almost suffocating, with every corner steeped in unspoken grief.

Hendrix met us at the door and led us quietly to my father’s suite.

The room was dimly lit, with drawn curtains muting the outside world. It was also filled with the constant, low hum of a medical device—a stark reminder of the fragile line between life and its inevitable end.

Dad lay in bed, frail and diminished—a shadow of the man who once commanded boardrooms and inspired unwavering perfection. His skin was as pale as worn parchment, his breaths shallow and uneven, each inhale a quiet surrender to time.

“Where are my mother and sister?” I asked softly.

Hendrix tilted his head toward the hallway. “In the parlor. He’s already talked to them.”

“And?”

“Dolly was upset. Bryce got angry. Coco was crying.” Hendrix’s tone was flat. He didn’t like how we all treated our father—but then, he hadn’t known Dad in his prime. He’d only seen himafterthe stroke.

Dad had affairs. He wasn’t a good father—in fact, he was completely absent from our lives except when he ordered us around.

He’d approved of Bryce, partly because of his old Savannah family name but also because he hadn’t known that they’d squandered the generational wealth.

He hadn’t approved of Lia—no Savannah old money there. Ultimately, he’d estranged himself from all of us except Lia, who had a heart so big that she’d shamed us all.