Chapter 25
Tristan
I sit out on the balcony of my hotel room in Paris. I just got back from the hotel gym and am going in to the office this afternoon. I’m still working on the due diligence for Anderson Media. I want the deal closed early this week if possible.
The sooner I move on to new things, the better. I need to drag myself off the floor here. I can’t go on like this.
I just want it over with.
My room phone rings, and I frown. Who would be calling me in the hotel? Nobody ever does. I walk inside and answer. “Bonjour.”
“Mr. Miles?”
“Oui.”
“Vous avez des visiteurs.” (Translation: You have some visitors.)
I frown. “Qui est-ce?” (Translation: Who is it?)
“Juste une minute.” (Translation: Just a minute.) He passes the phone to someone.
“Tris?”
I frown and screw up my face in confusion ... what? “Harry?”
“Come and get us.”
My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “I’ll be right down.” I run to the door and hit the elevator button.
They’re here.
I watch the dial over the doors, and I tap my foot. Come on ... come on.
The doors open, and I rush out and look around to see Harry and Patrick sitting on the lounge waiting for me. They look up and see me, and both come running at me at a million miles per minute. They nearly bowl me over as they grab a leg each to hug.
I put my arms around them and hold them tight. “Where’s Mom?” I whisper into their hair.
“We ran away.”
My mouth falls open in horror. “Your mother doesn’t know you’re here?” I gasp.
They both shake their heads. “Nope.”
“Oh my God.” I take out my phone. “She’s going to be fucking frantic.” I call Claire.
“Tristan,” she cries in a panic. “They’ve run away.”
“They just turned up here,” I stammer.
“What?” she gasps.
“Patrick and Harrison just turned up at my hotel in Paris.”
“What the hell?” she gasps. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“They’re okay, they’re okay,” I hear her tell someone.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“In the police station. Oh my God, Tristan,” she cries in relief. “Oh my God. It’s okay, Fletcher. They’re safe,” she says.
I flick the peak of Harry’s cap. “You’re in so much trouble,” I mouth.
“I don’t care,” he mouths back with attitude.
“I’m on my way,” she stammers. “Fletcher and I will catch the first flight out.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Tris.” She hangs up.
I look down at the two boys as they stare up at me. “What are you two thinking?” I snap. “Your mother has been frantic,” I whisper as I gesture to the elevator. “You two are in so much trouble I can’t even believe it,” I whisper angrily.
They both smile up at me, and my heart constricts. I bend and take them both in my arms. “You little shits,” I murmur into their hair.
“We came to get you,” Patrick whispers into my shoulder. “We want you as our dad. We don’t care what Mom says. It’s up to us, anyway.”
I grip them tighter in my arms, and I could just burst into tears. We hold on to each other tightly for a long time, and I’m quite sure everyone around is watching.
I take their hands, and we get into the elevator. “Do you know how dangerous that was? How the hell did you get on a plane, anyway?” I ask.
“With your credit card.”
My mouth falls open. “You stole my credit card?” I gasp. “Oh my God. Harrison,” I scold him. “You are unbelievable.”
“No, I borrowed it. It was in Mom’s drawer.”
The credit card I had given to Claire for emergencies. The one she refused to use.
“You are grounded for life,” I whisper as I hold his hand.
He smiles cheekily up at me, and I smirk down at him.
I fucking love this kid.
We get to my hotel suite, and I flop onto the lounge.
They both sit nearly on top of me. They tell me how they lied to Bob and to Claire and sneaked out and caught the train to the airport and then somehow got on a plane without being stopped.
They tell me every single detail about their last fifteen hours, and I can hardly believe it.
Patrick’s little arms are tight around my neck as we converse, and Harrison’s hand is on my thigh. They are animated and cutting each other off and so proud of themselves for actually pulling it off.
“Why did you come here?” I ask as I look between them.
“Because we love you,” Harry says. “And we’re staying with you until you come home ... and you can’t make us leave. You’re our dad, and dads belong with their kids.”
I pull them close and hold them tight. “I love you too,” I whisper into their hair.
My heart bursts with love for these boys.
I smile. It seems all this lying makes for two sweaty kids. “And you two need a shower. You stink.”
They moan.
“Where’s Fletch?” I ask as I lead them into the bathroom.
“He wouldn’t leave Mom alone for the weekend.”
I smile proudly. Always looking out for his mom. “That’s my boy.”
It’s just now 3:40 a.m., and the text I’ve been waiting for arrives from Claire.
Just pulling up at the hotel now.
She’s here.
I text back.
Concierge knows you are coming,
They have a key for you.
A reply bounces back.
See you soon.
I begin to pace; my heart is in my throat. Claire’s going to flip her fucking lid.
My God, that was so dangerous, what the boys did. Just wait till I get ahold of the airline responsible.
I take deep breaths. I’m nervous to see her.
It’s been a long, lonely, and hellish few weeks.
The door lock clicks, and the door slowly opens. Fletcher walks in, and I pull him in for a hug. Then I see Claire, and my heart drops.
She’s distraught, in tears, and pale. She looks like she’s lost a lot of weight.
“Baby,” I whisper.
She screws her face into tears, and I take her in my arms. She cries against my shoulder as I hold her tight. “Shh, they’re okay,” I whisper into her hair. “They’re asleep. It’s okay.” I lead her by the hand into the bedroom, and she kisses both their foreheads as they sleep.
“I’m going to kill those two knuckleheads,” Fletcher whispers.
“Get in line,” I mutter as I watch Claire sob over them.
I turn to Fletcher and pull him into my arms again. “Good boy for staying with your mother,” I whisper. I slap him on the back.
“Where am I sleeping?” he asks. “I’m exhausted.”
“In the room next door.”
“Good night, Mom,” Fletcher whispers.
Claire wraps her arms around him. “Thank you so much, Fletch. Good night, sweetheart.”
I close the boys’ door, and we walk out into the living room. I’m waiting for her onslaught.
I turn toward her. “Claire—”
“I love you,” she cuts me off. Her eyes are filled with tears, the pain in them unbearable for me to look at. “Whatever you want me to do,” she whispers. “Wherever you want me to live. I’ll do it.”
Her eyes search mine.
“Just don’t leave me again.” She sobs. “I can’t stand it. I can’t do this without you, Tris.” Her chest heaves with tears, and it’s obvious she’s been crying a long time. “Please don’t leave me again,” she begs in a whisper.
“Baby,” I whisper as I pull her close. I’ve never seen her like this. “I’m not. I promise. I love you. We can do it your way.” I hold her tight. “As long as I’m with you, it will be okay. I don’t need papers; it’s okay.”
For a long time, she stays and cries in my arms. I hate seeing her like this. She’s completely broken. She’s usually always so strong. “Come on. Shower.” I lead her into the bathroom and turn the hot water on. I slowly undress her.
She stands before me, weak and fragile. So not like my strong Claire.
My heart constricts at how much weight she’s lost. I walk her in under the water, and her sad eyes hold mine. “Can you get in with me?”
I take my clothes off and step in, and we hold each other under the hot water. Her head is on my chest, my arms wrapped around her small frame.
This isn’t like our normal showers together. This isn’t about sex; it’s about love.
My love ... for her .
“I love you,” I whisper.
She screws her face up into my neck. “Don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t,” I promise her.
She clings to me. This is going to take a while to get over.
For both of us. But she’s here. My family is here with me.
We will get through this.
We have to.
I lie on my side and watch Claire sleep. She’s utterly exhausted.
It’s all caught up with her—the stress at work, our breakup, and then the boys going missing have her so wound up that she couldn’t stop crying last night.
Her body simply gave out. Enough was enough, and in the end, I gave her two sleeping pills so that she could finally relax enough to fall asleep.
I hear an argument from the other room, and I smile. Who knew that the sound of early-morning bickering could sound so good? I get up and go to investigate.
“I don’t care if you didn’t bring any other shorts,” Fletcher snaps to Harry. “You’re not wearing mine. No wonder I couldn’t find any of my things to pack—they’re all in your suitcase.”
“Shh, Mom’s asleep,” I whisper as I walk into the room. “What’s going on?”
“Harry stole all of my clothes,” Fletcher whispers angrily.
“I did not.” He looks to me. “All my shorts don’t fit me anymore.”
“It’s too early for this.” I sigh. “Give Fletcher back his shorts. I’ll buy you new ones today, Harrison.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” Fletcher snaps. “Why does he get new shorts?”
“Can I have new shorts?” Patrick asks from bed. “I’ve been growing lately, and I need all-new clothes.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop it. You have not grown.”
I look among the bickering boys, and a broad smile crosses my face. I’m actually grateful to be hearing them fight ... who would have ever thought? “I’ll buy you all new clothes today,” I reply.
Their eyes widen.
“But right now, I want you to get dressed, go downstairs to the restaurant, and have breakfast,” I say. “Eat something healthy from the buffet.”
“Are you coming?” Patrick asks.
“I’m going to stay here with Mom. You’ll be fine with Fletcher. Don’t go anywhere else.” I point to the two troublemakers. “You come straight back up to the room when you’re done. I mean it; you two are seriously grounded for life. Nowhere without an adult. Ever.”
Fletcher gives a smug smile to his two brothers. He loves that I class him as an adult.
I make myself a coffee, and they shower and mess around, and about half an hour later they go downstairs for breakfast.