Chapter Eight
Grant had always loved the mountains, but standing near the top of a Swiss slope with his two sons strapped into snowboards beside him made the view feel entirely different.
Mac, Nico, and Rafe stood a few yards away, pretending they weren’t openly entertained by the fact that Grant couldn’t stop looking at Tyler and Trevor every few seconds.
He knew they noticed. Of course, they noticed.
These were men who had spent years reading threats, body language, and each other’s moods in high-stress environments. But Grant couldn’t care less.
Tyler was adjusting the strap on his glove while arguing with Rafe about whether a trick he’d attempted earlier counted as “controlled” if the landing involved two rolls and a dramatic slide into a snowbank.
Trevor stood slightly behind him, watching Nico demonstrate a stance adjustment with the same focused attention Grant remembered seeing in operators twice his age.
The more time Grant spent with the twins, the more pieces he collected. Tyler was fearless in a way that made Grant both proud and deeply concerned for Amelie’s blood pressure.
Trevor was quieter, sharper, and had a habit of noticing things before anyone else realized there was anything to notice.
They were funny, smart, stubborn, competitive, and affectionate in those subtle boy ways that made emotion look like sarcasm.
They were also good kids. Not perfect. He’d already gathered that perfection was not a realistic expectation with these two.
But they were kind, polite, respectful, and loyal to their mother in a way that told him everything he needed to know about the woman who had raised them.
When they reached the bottom of the run a little while later, the group paused near the side of the trail to catch their breath. Tyler was flushed and grinning like he had personally conquered the mountain, while Trevor looked pleased in his quieter way, his eyes bright behind his goggles.
Grant looked between them and felt that fierce, overwhelming pride rise in his chest again.
Tyler glanced up at him, his expression growing more thoughtful.
“Did you and Mom talk?”
Grant looked over. “What do you mean?”
Tyler shrugged one shoulder. “I mean…After Christmas. When will we get to see you?”
Before Grant could answer, Trevor jumped in.
“What he also means is that we live in Norway, and you live in Florida. That seems like it could be a problem.”
Grant was quiet for a moment as he looked at the two boys walking beside him.
“Look, I can’t answer that right this second. There is still a lot that your mom and I need to talk about and work out,” he admitted honestly. What I can tell you is that a few thousand miles isn’t going to stop me from being your dad.”
“Mom sometimes talks about moving back to the States eventually, Trevor said.
Grant’s eyebrows lifted hearing that. “She does?”
Trevor nodded. “I’ve heard her talking to Marty about it.”
“Marty?” Grant asked, the name sounding a little sharp.
Tyler rolled his eyes, and Trevor made a face that told Grant his son was a fan of whoever the hell Marty is.
But then Tyler spoke. “Marty Cole. He’s an attorney Mom uses for Lumi. You know business stuff.”
“He also likes Mom,” Trevor said, looking at Grant as if asking what he plans on doing about that.
“But mom doesn’t like him that way,” Tyler added.
Grant crossed his arms over his chest, trying very hard not to look as interested as he suddenly felt. Judging by the way Mac turned away with a grin, he was failing.
“She doesn’t?”
Tyler shook his head. “No. He’s an ass.”
“Tyler,” Grant said automatically, then stopped because he had no idea if he was allowed to dad-voice a kid he’d known less than twenty-four hours.
Trevor chuckled. “In Tyler’s defense, Mom calls Marty an ass all the time.”
Mac lost the battle and laughed outright.
Grant sighed. “Okay, what makes him an ass?”
Tyler looked pleased that Grant wasn’t going to reprimand him for saying “ass.”
“He tries to run her life, and like mom hadn’t built her company herself.”
“Yeah, he’s always telling her what she should do,” Trevor added. “What meetings to take, what offers to consider, which people are worth her time. He does that thing where he sounds polite, but you can tell he thinks he’s smarter than everyone.”
“Mom doesn’t let him boss her around,” Tyler said quickly, pride obvious in his voice. “She shuts him down. But he still tries and argues with her.”
Grant’s jaw tightened before he could stop it. He already didn’t like Marty. And judging from their facial expressions and words, the boys weren’t a fan of the guy either.
Jealousy wasn’t something he was proud of, but he was honest enough to admit it when it appeared.
The idea of some attorney hanging around Amelie, taking her to dinners, advising her on business, and apparently waiting for an opportunity to become something more made a primitive, possessive stir inside him.
“Well, if what you say is true, and your mom puts him in his place, then I’m sure everything is fine.”
“She does,” Trevor said. “He just doesn’t get the hint.”
Grant smiled. “Then that sounds more like Marty’s problem than your mom’s.”
“There’s also this investor thing,” Trevor said.
Grant pinched his eyebrows. “What investor thing?”
“Some guy wants to buy into Lumi. Mom’s been stressed about it. She tries to hide it, but she’s terrible at hiding stuff from us.”
Grant filed every word away. The boys had already handed him more information than they probably realized, and he didn’t want his first real afternoon with them to turn into an interrogation about their mother’s business problems.
Fortunately, Tyler was more than happy to redirect. “So, about yours and mom’s date tonight.”
Grant looked at him and quirked an eyebrow. “What about it?”
“What do you have planned?” Trevor asked, suddenly far too interested.
Grant adjusted one of his gloves and tried not to smile. “Dinner.”
Tyler stared at him. “That’s it?”
“What?” Grant asked. “Is dinner not acceptable?”
“Well, that depends. Mom likes simple. She’s not into fancy stuff. She always complains when she has to get dressed up for those hoity toity dinners and galas she has to go to.”
Grant couldn’t help but smile. For some reason, hearing that made him absurdly happy.
The Amelie he remembered had always preferred a quiet evening over fancy dinners and black-tie events.
She had only tolerated those things when she had to, usually while muttering sarcastic commentary under her breath that made him laugh.
Knowing that success hadn’t changed that part of her made something warm settle in his chest.
“There’s a pizza place in the village with heated outdoor seating and a view of the mountains.”
“Pizza?” Tyler asked.
Grant nodded. “Is that still her favorite food?”
“Mom loves pizza like some women love diamonds,” Trevor said, laughing.
“She also loves diamonds,” Tyler added.
“True, but she can make pretty jewelry with diamonds, but she cannot make good pizza.”
Grant laughed. “Good to know.”
“And they have craft beer?” Trevor asked.
Grant raised an eyebrow. “How do you know about that?”
“Mom likes craft beer,” Tyler said, as if this were obvious. “She pretends she’s classy because she’s a fancy jewelry designer, but give her pizza and a good beer, and she’s happy.”
Grant felt another piece of the old Amelie click into place beside the woman she had become. “Then I think I picked the right place.”
“You did,” Trevor said.
“Strong choice,” Tyler agreed. “Better than somewhere with tiny food and seventeen forks.”
Grant grinned. “I’ll save that for date three.”
“Date three?” Tyler asked.
Grant shrugged. “I’m optimistic.”
Trevor’s grin spread slowly. “And we fully support you.”
“That’s a relief,” Grant said dryly.
Tyler tilted his head, studying him with a level of seriousness that would have been funny if Grant didn’t suspect the kid was about to say something dangerous.\
“And what about after dinner plans?”
Grant narrowed his eyes.
But before Grant could get a word in, Trevor smirked.
“We’re just saying that if you and Mom wanted to spend the whole night together, we won’t object.”
Grant choked on his own air while Mac made a strangled sound behind him, Nico was biting his cheek so hard that he resembled a constipated walrus, and Rafe didn’t give a shit and laughed so hard he had to brace his hands on his knees.
Tyler, apparently sensing blood in the water, continued with the confidence of a boy who had inherited far too much of Grant’s nerve.
“Just be sure to use condoms, because otherwise you risk it happening again.” He pointed between himself and Trevor. “Exhibit A and Exhibit B.”
Grant stared at them, and for one full second, he had no words.
Then he dropped his head and laughed, because honestly, what else was there to do? “Jesus Christ, you two are going to put me in an early grave.”
“Mom says that too,” Trevor said with a cheeky grin.
“Frequently,” Tyler added.
Grant wiped a hand over his face and tried to regain control of the conversation, which was proving difficult with Mac still wheezing behind him.
“First, never say something like that to your mother.”
“Obviously,” Trevor said.
“We enjoy living,” Tyler added.
“Second,” Grant continued, “my date with your mother is going to involve dinner, conversation, and me trying very hard not to screw up the second chance I was lucky enough to get.”
The boys softened a little at that, but only for a second before Trevor shrugged. “Okay. But for the record, we wouldn’t object to a little brother or sister someday.”
“Sister, preferably,” Tyler said.
Grant pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the direction this conversation had taken. And three stooges standing off to the side, snickering, were not helping the situation. In fact, Grant was convinced they were just encouraging the twins.
Christ, he hadn’t even made it through the first date yet, and his sons were already out here planning the sequel.
He looked back at the boys and chuckled. “How about we survive the first date before you two start placing orders for additional siblings?”
Grant pointed toward the lift before either of them could say anything else. “Let’s get on the lift before this conversation gets any more traumatizing.”
The boys laughed, grabbed their boards, and started toward the lift with Mac, Nico, and Rafe.
Grant followed, letting himself take in the sight of his sons walking ahead of him in the snow, arguing about which Christmas movie would be the most effective survival guide during a zombie apocalypse. The fact that both of them had detailed answers was mildly concerning.
God, he wanted so many more moments like this.
For twelve years, he hadn’t known what he was missing. Now he couldn’t imagine ever going without it again.
As he listened to the boys continue their completely serious debate, a smile tugged at his mouth.
He thought back to their conversation, and he shook his head. If his sons were already planning additional children before he had even made it through the first date, he had a feeling that the future was going to keep him on his toes.