Painting Together a Family (Starting Over #4)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

B ryan St-Vincent read Horton Hears a Who to a dozen or so kids ranging in age from about two to five. He did different voices and made faces, really putting his all into it. The kids giggled and laughed. God, he loved that sound. Happy kids made his soul sing.

Bry volunteered at the community center a few times a week. It gave his kids friends to play with, and it let him give back to a place that had saved his ass big-time a couple years ago when Grant had left him high and dry, stealing all his money, including every penny in his boys’ education funds. He’d been devastated, emotionally as well as financially, and the community center had been a place he could bring the boys and they could all have some normality for a few hours. At no cost, which had been extremely important at the time.

He finished the story and closed the book.

“More! More!” All the kids took up the cry, the cacophony filling the air for a moment. It died down when he raised his hands and shook his head. “It’s nearly four, guys. Your parents or guardians will be here to get you soon so there just isn’t time for another story. Besides, there are snacks over on the table at the back.”

He chuckled as that ended the demands for more, the kids like a school of piranhas descending on the goodie table, his boys Dylan and Micah among them.

“You’re so good with them.” Jennie’s voice was always a comfort, and she was an amazing friend, as well as the volunteer coordinator. They’d met when he’d started coming in on a regular basis, and she’d dragged the story of how he’d been widowed and then conned out of him, and then she’d wormed her way into his heart with her genuine support. “They love you.”

“Thanks, lady.” He gave her a warm smile. “It’s easy to be good to kids. More people should try it.” He didn’t growl; it wasn’t Jennie’s fault that there were some real grade-A assholes out there who didn’t care who they hurt. And that’s what upset him the most about the whole Grant affair. Yes, the man had made a fool of him and stolen from him, but worse, the man had hurt his boys. Maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally and certainly financially. Because of Grant, they’d already lost not just one but two father figures in the short span of their lives. Hard as it had been, at least Miller hadn’t wanted to leave them; Grant had deliberately abandoned them. How did you explain that to a six- and four-year-old? How did you make sure they knew it wasn’t their fault? Now that he could finally afford it, therapy was helping with that. For all of them.

“Being good to kids? Absolutely, more people should try it. Hell, everyone should. Speaking of, did you see that Devlin Marx is suing your mutual ex for fifty-five million dollars?”

His mouth dropped open. Had Grant really stolen fifty-five million dollars from someone? And the guy had enough on him to sue Grant for it? “I hadn’t, but good for him! I hope he wins.” If he could have had Grant arrested and or sued him for the money he’d stolen, Bry would have. But the chips had not fallen his way, and the money Grant had stolen was simply gone. Every penny of his husband’s insurance, every penny in their savings account and every penny in the kids’ education accounts. There was no money for a lawyer, and none of them would take it on contingency of winning, money-grubbing turds.

It had taken two years, but he was back on his feet now. Still, he didn’t think he’d ever get those education accounts back to where they’d been. Miller had had a very high-paying job, and they’d socked a lot of money away for their kids’ educations as soon as they’d started the adoption process. Not to mention there had been a very generous payout on Miller’s life insurance. It made him sick to think about, really. All that money and it was simply gone.

“Yeah, looks like he has gone through another husband, and he’s engaged again, so husband number one is suing.”

“Wait. You’re telling me that Grant stole fifty-five million from someone, and it wasn’t enough? He then stole from me, too, and he’s back to grifting to steal from another widower?” He didn’t know why he was surprised. The money Grant had stolen from him obviously hadn’t been enough either if he’d not only gotten married again after him, but was also engaged again. How exactly did you spend that much money? Or was he one of those people who could never have enough money, no matter how much they socked away? Or maybe he simply enjoyed hurting people, and ‘winning.’

Jennie made a face, her nose wrinkling and her lips curling in obvious contempt. “For some people there’s never enough money, right?”

Which was just what he’d been thinking.

“Yeah, and I have a hunch Grant likes the game. Makes him feel clever and like he’s winning.” Okay, so Bry was still extremely bitter. He had a hunch that was never really going to go away. It was too bad the day here was over because he could sure use some more of that happy kids joy right about now.

“Did you ever meet the guy before you—Devlin?”

He shook his head. “Nope. By the time I got my head above water, it was nearly two years later and the last thing I wanted to do was look for any news of that as— turd.” He corrected himself before he let the curse word loose; he tried his hardest not to swear in front of anyone under twenty, which had not been an easy task in the months immediately after Grant had left them broke and devastated. “I didn’t even realize he was already married and divorced again, and once again engaged.” Maybe he’d buried his head in the sand a little too much if Jennie knew all this gossip off the top of her head. Still, it had been better for his mental health to just pretend a black hole had swallowed Grant up along with all his money. It hadn’t occurred to him the guy had not only already done it before him, but would do it again. And again. And now he was going to feel guilty he hadn’t done anything to make sure Grant didn’t take advantage of anyone else. God damn it.

“Well, he’s apparently an artist, and quite fierce, well-off, and he’d inherited quite a bit when his first husband died. They had a couple of kids, and that family? Had the guy’s back when things went south. Must be nice.”

Wow, Jennie really was a font of all gossip and knowledge. And it looked like he wasn’t the only widower who was taken in by Grant’s compassionate act. It meant he wasn’t the only blind idiot out there. He pushed that line of thinking away. He’d been vulnerable and alone with two kids, and he hadn’t had any family to back him up, and full of grief on top of everything, and Grant had taken advantage of that. He knew he needed to forgive himself for what had happened. However, that was so much easier to say than do. “Like I said, I hope he wins.” And he meant that with his whole heart. If someone managed to hold Grant accountable for his behavior, maybe it would get him to stop. Or at least maybe it would bring a little karmic balance to the jerkwad.

He took a deep breath and tried to shake it off. He didn’t need to be all up in arms again; it wasn’t good for him. So now he needed to find his boys and give them big hugs and take them out to Lucia’s Cantina for supper.

“I hope he does too. You know, you could maybe get in on the lawsuit…”

“I don’t know, the lawyer I talked to after it happened was pretty sure I didn’t have a winnable case. But maybe I could help with this guy’s. Like as a witness for Devlin or something. Another voice telling on Grant.” The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. It would be good to be able to actually do something about the whole situation. Maybe get the feeling of helplessness the whole thing had left him with to ease off.

“It couldn’t hurt and maybe it would make the pain and anger back off some, you know?” Looked like Jennie was on the same wavelength as him again.

He nodded, thoughts buzzing around his head. If he could do even one little thing to help take Grant down, he’d bet it would go a long way to help ease his feelings about himself and how much of a pathetic idiot he’d been to believe Grant’s lies. “I don’t suppose you know who’s representing him?”

She nodded and grinned, her dark curls bobbing. “My sister-in-law.”

Well, that explained a lot—of course Jennie would have all the gossip about this if she had family involved in the lawsuit.

Chuckling, he handed over his phone. “Put her number in my contacts, and I’ll get in touch, see if my story will help this guy with his case.” He’d call tomorrow and introduce himself, tell the woman his story, and hopefully they could use his testimony to help hold Grant accountable to at least one of his victims.

She winked at him, smiled. “I’d love to. I want this guy to go down, you know? For everything he’s done, especially to you.” She put the number in his phone and handed it back to him.

“Thanks, I appreciate the support.” He really did. It was people like Jennie who’d let him keep some faith in humanity and had kept him from going off the deep end, especially in the early days.

Micah appeared at his side, grabbing his arm and yanking it. “Daddy! Daddy! There’s chocoberries and I had twenty-leven!”

Oh lord. He hoped that didn’t actually mean anything close to twenty. And that there were actually berries in whatever chocoberries were because he didn’t need both kids hopped up on sugar for the rest of the evening, but especially his four-year-old.

“Cho-co-la-te straw-ber-ries,” Dylan sounded out slowly like only a six-year-old older brother could. “And you had four.”

“Uh-uh. Twenty-leven,” Micah insisted.

“And how many is that?” Bry asked.

“Lots!” Micah let go of him and bounced in place. “Lots and lots.”

Bry was going to have to bring some chocolate-covered berries with him next time they came, given it sounded like his son had eaten more than his share. “I guess you’re stuffed then. Probably too full to eat tacos?”

“No! No, Daddy! I put the chocoberries in my dessert stomach. My taco stomach is empty.”

Bry had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from bursting out laughing.

Dylan gave his brother an arch stare. “You are always empty. All. Ways.”

“Uh-uh. My o-meal tummy gets filled up every morning!” Micah wasn’t going to let it go.

“Are we really having tacos?” Dylan asked, eyes wide with hope. “Can I have mine with no matos and extra smooshy beans?”

“You can have your tacos any way you want them.” He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, then held his hands out to his boys. They each grabbed one as they headed out.

“I want a s’mores one, Daddy,” Micah told him.

“I’m pretty sure Lucia’s Cantina doesn’t have s’mores tacos.”

“Gummi worms tacos?”

“They don’t have those either.”

“Ice cream tacos?”

“Maybe for dessert, but not for supper.”

“But you said we could have any tacos we wanted,” Micah insisted.

Damn, but you couldn’t get away with anything with a four-year-old.

“Any tacos as long as they have the ingredients for it and it’s not dessert,” he amended for his son.

Micah sighed in apparent disappointment, but Bry knew both Micah and Dylan were big fans of tacos and then they’d share some deep-fried ice cream for dessert. Even if Micah had had twenty-leven chocolate-covered strawberries.

“I loves you, Daddy.” Micah beamed at him. “This is the best day!”

“Me too! Me too!” Dylan bounced along next to him. “I love you too.”

“It is a good day, isn’t it? And I love you both.” He squeezed their hands in lieu of hugs, which were hard to accomplish as they were walking. Being with his sons was the best balm for his anger and upset, and he loved them both so hard. Especially when they had more ‘best days’ than not. It was a good reminder to enjoy each moment as it happened.

The restaurant was between the community center and their place, so they walked to it, the day beautiful. It wasn’t too hot today—he could feel autumn in the air, but the wind didn’t have that bite yet that it would come November. He kept tight hold of the boys’ hands so they didn’t get lost in the flow of people on the sidewalk, thinking again how wonderful it was to have them in his life.

So he figured he shouldn’t complain. Life was getting better every day.

And his boys were happy. Truly happy. In the end, that was what really mattered.