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“Serena and I are fine for money,” Archer insists.
I turn to Gabriel, who needs it more than any of us, but he staunchly refuses. “I’ll make it on my own. I don’t want anything to do with Dad’s money anymore.”
“It’s not like he’s giving it to you. I am. Dad is… dead.”
It still feels so weird to say that. He’d survived the first heart attack he had last week, but the second one he’d had hours later was too much for his body to handle, despite his indomitable will. I’d been on a flight back here to New York from the Philippines when he passed, only receiving the news once I’d disembarked from the plane.
The days since have been a blur with funeral arrangements and well-wishers, most of whom I’ve never met. Thank God for my brothers. Without them, I wouldn’t know how to handle any of this.
“I have paperwork for you to sign at your earliest convenience,” the lawyer continues, “and the keys to his residences here for you.” He clears his throat, not meeting my brothers’ eyes as he says, “And it was specifically stated that Gabriel and Archer are not to reside in their former households.”
“Jesus Christ,” Gabriel mutters. “Sticking it to us from beyond the grave. That’s just like him.” He rolls his eyes and looks at the ground, shouting, “We don’t want your stupid apartments, Dad.” He points downward. “Because he’s in Hell, you know?”
Archer groans, but not before I catch his lips quirking at the edges.
“You guys can have your places back,” I tell them. They lived in those apartments for years. It’s only right. “I don’t know what kind of legal action anyone can take—”
“They’re yours,” Archer says firmly. “We’ll abide by the terms of the will. We both knew what we were doing when we told Dad we wouldn’t live by his rules anymore.”
Gabriel nods his agreement but holds up a hand. “Can I just put out there that I miss having a housekeeper? It sucks doing laundry and dishes.”
A burble of laughter builds within me. “That’s it? That’s all you’re asking for? Someone to fold your clothes and wash your dishes?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. Mackenzie’s dishwasher just broke, so I’ve been having to wash them by hand. It’s awful.”
Wow, okay. “Anything for you, Archer?”
“No,” he says quietly. I take a closer look at him, the grooves bracketing his mouth deeper than they used to be. “I’m fine.”
“It’s okay to be sad,” I tell him. “Or mad. Or anything.” He’s always kept his cards too close to his chest.
He nods. “I’ve already talked to Serena about it.”
Well, at least he’s finally opening up to someone. I don’t know what she did to break through to him, but I have to hand it to her.
“Oh, and we’re getting married,” Archer continues. “For real this time.”
“Uh, didn’t we already do a wedding?” Gabriel asks, referencing the infamous event that brought us all to this point. “Remember, first I was the groom, then you were. Is it Connor’s turn now?”
I grin, glad that Gabriel can joke about it, but Archer isn’t as amused. “It’s going to be small, but I’d still like you both to be there.”
Gabriel shakes his shoulder. “Yeah, of course we’ll be there. Let me know what you want, and me and Mackenzie will put it together.”
The lawyer clears his throat, reminding us he’s still there, and I take the paperwork from him. “I’ll just look this stuff over, yeah?”
My eyes skim over the pages, and it’s only because I’m used to reading contracts for work that it makes sense. It’s true. Everything is mine.
Now to figure out what to do with it.
* * *
The elevator givesa soft ding and I step off on the sixtieth floor of Bishop Tower to the small lobby outside of Dad’s office.
Vivian, my dad’s long-time assistant, rises from her desk, her dark eyes filled with kindness. “How are you holding up?”
I must have seen her yesterday at the funeral, but it’s hard to remember all the faces. “I, um… well, you know how he was.”
“I do,” she replies, seeming to understand what I can’t voice aloud. “Now, do you want to take it easy your first day or get to work?”