Chapter 7
Seven
Elise
Sunday dinners at the Paradise home are legendary, though as I told Kingston, Dad and I only come when invited.
Thanks to Kingston, tonight, that’s the case.
The house glows against the winter dark, golden light spilling through tall windows, laughter carrying even through the heavy front door.
My father straightens his coat like we’re about to walk into a board meeting, and my heart pounds as well.
When Tarryn meets us as the door, I can tell lasagna is on the menu tonight.
It’s one of my favorites, and Vicky orders in from Nonna’s.
Their garlic knots are to die for, and it usually means tiramisu for dessert.
Tarryn whisks our coats away, and in seconds, we’re swept into the dining room, where the noise is already deafening.
Vicky’s voice floats above it, warm and commanding, like the matriarch she is. Trace sits at the head of the table, stoic but with a dry glint of amusement in his eyes.
And then there are the kids—no, they’re adults now, each with their partners.
Greyson and Trinity beam over baby Theo, who’s being passed around like a football.
He just had his first birthday. Beckett and Sadie, who is finally showing her pregnancy whisper to each other, heads too close together for polite company.
Ryker has Ginny draped against his side, smirking like they’ve got some inside joke no one else is privy to.
And Tarryn practically glows with Declan at her side.
Kingston, who looks like he stepped out of some glossy magazine spread, is also the odd man out.
I can’t help but notice that. He sits at the far end of the table.
For a moment, I imagine what it would be like if I truly belonged here, if I had a permanent place in this loud, loving chaos.
The Paradises are a family who bickers and teases but always shows up.
I feel a twinge of longing as I compare this to the quiet dinners I share with Dad, just the two of us—polite conversation and lengthy silences.
Vicky clasps her hands together, eyes shining.
“All of my children, and their partners, and my sweet baby grandson. My heart could burst.” Her voice catches, and the whole room hushes.
“But don’t think for one second I’m satisfied.
There’s still plenty of room for more grandchildren.
And I expect each of you to deliver. Beckett, you and Sadie just keep doing what you’re doing. ”
The room breaks into laughter, groans, and mock protests. Kingston mutters something about being too old to be threatened by his mother’s matchmaking schemes. Beckett rolls his eyes and passes Sadie a basket of garlic knots like he’s shielding her from the line of fire.
Then baby Theo squeals, and someone drops a spoon with a clatter.
Ginny shrieks that Ryker stole the salad right out of her hand.
Beckett and Ryker argue across the table about which vintage should have been opened—2015 or 2018—as if the fate of the universe depends on it.
Greyson tries to swipe a roll off Trace’s plate and nearly loses his hand.
Trinity and Sadie loudly insist that their babies—current and future—will be the most spoiled of all the cousins, and Trace mutters that spoiled children aren’t anything to brag about.
It’s ridiculous, messy, and loud. A family in full swing. For a moment, I let myself smile at the pure beauty of it.
Then Kingston clears his throat. “Since everyone is here…”
The room stills, though Ryker keeps one arm draped around Ginny like he’s bracing for impact.
Kingston’s gaze sweeps the table, his usual easy control edged with tension.
“I need to let you know that the Black Bear vines were sabotaged. Elise and I have confirmed it. And I think someone should be staying at the property on that side to keep watch.”
“Living there?” I ask aloud.
Kingston’s eyes meet mine. “Well, I suppose so. I’m not there all the time. The vines are exposed.” He thinks a moment. “You know them better than anyone. In fact, I can’t think of anyone more capable than you.” He says this like it makes perfect sense.
Tarryn jumps in before I can answer. “Hold on. Elise’s work is all over the estate, not only Black Bear. You can’t just move her like she’s another piece on the board. And she’s also getting ready for her exchange.”
I’m still processing what she’s said when Dad clears his throat. My stomach knots.
“Kingston has a point,” he says. “I’m still working full-time. Black Bear’s always been neglected. If Elise took it on when she returns, it would be a chance to show what she can do with her newfound knowledge, though we all know she’s more than capable already.”
I blink at him, the weight of his support hitting at the wrong angle. “So you agree?”
His brows rise, but he doesn’t flinch. “You’d do better than I ever managed to. That’s the truth.”
A murmur runs the length of the table, all eyes on me. Waiting. Measuring.
I set my fork on the plate. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. Truly. But I’ll remind you all, I leave Thursday for Bordeaux.” I glance from my father to Kingston. “France, in case anyone forgot.”
Silence stretches.
“I can focus on Black Bear for these few days before I go,” I add. “Check the vines as the snow melts. Beyond that…I’ll need some time before I can decide what I want.”
No one argues when I excuse myself.
The hallway swallows the sounds of silverware and voices, leaving me in the hush of my own thoughts. I force myself to take a deep breath, and behind me, the muffled voices grow clearer.
“She’ll come around,” Kingston says, calmly.
“She shouldn’t have to ‘come around,’” Tarryn snaps. “She’s not your employee. You don’t just get to decide.”
“She’s practically family,” Beckett argues.
Ryker laughs. “Family or not, it’s about time someone stepped up at Black Bear. That land’s been trouble since the beginning.”
I keep walking, jaw tight, until the side entrance to the kitchen comes into view. I turn in, not sure where else to go, and the smell of lasagna lingers. I grip the counter near the sink, steadying the rush of my thoughts.
Dad slips in behind me, closing the door softly. “Elise—”
I turn to him. “You couldn’t back me up in there?”
His mouth tightens. “It’s not about sides. You’ve proven yourself everywhere else on the estate. Black Bear needs you. They see it. I see it.”
“That’s not the point,” I say quietly. “You could’ve reminded them it’s my decision.”
“I know.” His voice is low, firm. “But sometimes having your back means nudging you toward the places you don’t want to go.”
I hold his gaze, unwilling to argue further, unwilling to break.
The door creaks again, and Tarryn slips in, her eyes full of apology. “Elise.” She hugs me before I can protest. “I didn’t know Kingston was going to bring it up like that. He should’ve asked, not announced.”
I let out a breath against her shoulder, and then pull back. “I felt cornered.”
“You were,” she says bluntly. “But if he suggested it, it’s because he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone else to live in that house.”
For some reason that feels good, though I only manage a small smile. “Maybe. Still felt like an ambush.”
Tarryn squeezes my hand. “He bulldozes, but he means well. And Mom will still invite you to Sunday dinner no matter what you decide. Trust me. You’re part of this family, whether you like it or not.”