“Got it, big bro.”
Justin turned toward the exit. He wasn’t worried about leaving Devon in charge of TF; he wasn’t even worried about what he’d find at Rockwater Farms in Hudson, Kansas. What concerned Justin was that either someone knew about his affair with Aubrey and was attempting to use his mistaken night of lust for their own personal gain, or that he was just now discovering—nearly fifteen years later—that he had a son.
His blood chilled. A boy. A son. An adolescent that he’d never met, that he’d never known. The key to a future he’d been told he could never have.
Anger thickened after the cold. Should he find the e-mail to be true, nothing would keep him away from this boy, this Max, this one Travati heir. Nothing. Not distance, not time, not lawyers or judges or laws, and most definitely not Miss Aubrey Hayes.
*
The final table of four had just been served their dessert course and coffee. Aubrey turned the corner toward the kitchen and cut down the hall toward her office and the doorway that led across the path of limestone that stretched from the famous Red Barn at Rockwater to the old farmhouse that she now shared with Max, Nina, and Dad. The house had been remodeled, and Dad had the main part of the house while Nina had taken the west side with a bedroom, sitting room, and small kitchenette. Aubrey and Max were on the east side of the house with their two bedrooms, family room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. Of course they all congregated in the main part of the house the majority of the time, with Max spending most evenings with his grandfather once dinner service began at The Red Barn.
Tonight Aubrey found Dad sacked out in his brown La-Z-Boy chair with a rerun of The Carol Burnett Show blasting from the TV. Max was asleep on the couch beneath a wedding ring quilt made by Mom. Scout lay on his round doggie bed next to the couch. He had one here and in Max’s room. Aubrey touched Dad’s shoulder. He woke and silently shuffled off to bed, barely opening his eyes. She leaned over to lift Max and carry him to bed, but he was too heavy.
When had that happened? Her eyes traveled over her son’s face, noting his skin the olive color of his father’s, his jet-black hair that was lush with waves, his cherub smile. Gone was the tiny hint of baby that had lingered on his cheeks and around his lips at seven, eight, nine and even ten, replaced by the imminent change to sharp-edged cheekbones and a well-defined chin. He’d gotten her green eyes. Or eyes that resembled green—not quite as emerald-colored as her own—from her. But they also held flecks of golden brown from his father.
His father.
Aubrey pressed her fingers along Max’s forehead and brushed his black hair back from his face. He looked very similar to his father. She could already see Max’s face taking on the same shape, the same contours, the same hints of those Travati good looks. Good looks that had ruined her good judgment and caused her to make what she’d thought at the time was the worst decision of her life, but in retrospect had turned out to be the biggest gift of her existence.
“Max,” she whispered. She leaned forward and gently stroked the back of her finger down his cheek. “Max, you need to wake up, sweet boy. You have to go to bed.”
His thick black eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened.
Her heart jolted.
There staring at her, from her son’s face, were Justin Travati’s eyes.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine.” Aubrey cleared her throat and forced a small smile onto her face. “It’s late, baby, you need to get to bed. We’ve got a lot to get packed up tomorrow.”
Max’s brows crinkled over his father’s eyes. “Right.” A pause hovered around him. He had more to say; a question hovered near the corners of his mouth.
“What is it?”
“What if I don’t like camp?”
Aubrey smiled. She had to smile. Max had begged to attend Camp Willow with his friends this summer after hearing of their exploits last summer and then hearing from his very own Aunt Nina how much fun she’d had at Camp Willow.
“Then you’ll come home. If you don’t like it, then I’ll come get you.”
He turned his head away and then looked back. Again she knew there was a question, a worry, something he needed to say, to tell her.
She brushed her fingertips along the edge of his hair. They had much to discuss, but now wasn’t the time. “You okay?”
He nodded, sat up, and stood. She stood beside him. Max’s head would soon be even with hers if she were in her bare feet. Soon, very soon, way too soon for her, he would surpass her height. He had just finished middle school, with high school beginning in the fall. He was no longer her little boy.