Chapter 60
KENT
Iwanted to keep Sylvie all to myself tonight, but I knew this dinner was a special tradition for her and her family. She’d invited me to join multiple times throughout the day, each invitation more earnest than the last, but I’d said no every time.
This was their night. Their family Christmas dinner, with decades of history and traditions I couldn’t fully understand. I didn’t want to intrude on something so personal, so sacred to them.
Maybe next year. I didn’t want the conversation to come back to business. Their night was about celebrating. I didn’t want it to be bogged down by numbers and logistics.
I walked Sylvie to the door, then pulled her close and kissed her softly.
“Have a good night,” I murmured against her lips. “I’ll see you back at your place. Take your time.”
She looked up at me with those green eyes that had the power to undo me completely. “Are you sure? You’re really welcome, Kent. My family—”
“Is your family,” I finished gently. “Tonight is about all of you being together. I’ll be here when you get back.”
She lingered for a moment, clearly torn. I could see her longing to stay with me warring with her excitement about the family dinner. A warm possessive feeling bloomed in my chest to know she didn’t want to leave me, even for a few hours.
I kissed her again. “Go.”
Finally, she headed toward the door, casting one last longing look back at me over her shoulder.
I winked and smiled, memorizing the picture she made in that red dress. “I’ll be waiting for you, baby.”
Back at Sylvie’s apartment, I settled onto her couch with a beer from her refrigerator and tried to process everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
Two days ago, I’d been in my Manhattan penthouse, staring out at a city that felt cold and empty.
Now I was in a cozy apartment that smelled like pine and vanilla and planning a future I never imagined wanting.
The transformation felt both gradual and sudden, like I’d been walking toward this moment without realizing it since the day I first arrived in Northwood.
That’s when I remembered to check my phone.
Eight missed calls from my father. The notification made my stomach clench with familiar dread, though this time it was mixed with resignation.
I knew this conversation was coming. Had known it since the moment I decided to leave the city and make Sylvie an offer that had nothing to do with Bancroft Industries and everything to do with my heart.
Dad would think it was foolish. I was pretty sure he was going to rage and then kick me out of the family.
But I made choice. I was good with it. That’s what mattered.
Mixed in with Dad’s calls was something unexpected. A missed call from Austin.
I stared at my brother’s name on the screen, hardly believing it. Austin hadn’t returned any of my calls or messages in forever. The fact that he’d reached out now, tonight, felt like more than coincidence.
Did Hudson call him? Tell him to call me?
Doubtful. I didn’t think any of my brothers were talking to him, and if they did, they weren’t admitting it.
But since I was obviously on the outs, I should probably find an ally with the other black sheep. I called him back, half expecting it to go straight to voicemail like every other attempt I’d made to contact him.
“Merry fucking Christmas, little brother,” Austin’s familiar voice came through the speaker. I felt sadness and elation. I missed the asshole. “Been a while.”
“Austin.” I couldn’t keep the relief out of my voice. “Where are you?”
“Oh, you know. Wherever I want to be.”
Vague as always, but it made me smile despite everything.
That was pure Austin, giving just enough information to acknowledge the question without actually answering it.
I hoped he was doing well, wherever he was.
I’d always wanted the best for my older brother, even when he’d been cast out of the family for going against our father in ways I still didn’t fully understand.
I had felt the ripple effects of Austin’s exile, though.
The way Dad’s expectations had shifted to me and Hudson, the way family gatherings had become exercises in avoiding mention of the missing Bancroft son.
There was a shadow over everything even when no one acknowledged it directly.
Austin was always the biggest elephant in the room, and in our crazy family, that was saying a lot.
We had a whole fucking herd of elephants we ignored.
“I need some advice,” I said, deciding to cut straight to the heart of why I called him. “I’m about to do something crazy. Something I know will make Dad furious.”
“Whoa, hold up there,” Austin interrupted, though I could hear amusement in his voice. “You came to the wrong guy, Kent. If Dad disowns you too, I don’t want that on my head.”
Fair enough. Austin had his own complicated relationship with guilt and family loyalty. But I pressed on anyway.
“Do you regret it?” I asked. “Whatever happened between you and Dad. Do you regret standing up to him?”
The line went quiet for a moment, and I could practically hear Austin thinking through his answer.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. His voice lacked the usual cocky tone.
I hadn’t expected that level of honesty. The Austin I remembered was all bravado and devil-may-care attitude, at least on the surface. This glimpse of vulnerability was something new.
“But not enough to go back,” he added quickly. “Not enough to pretend I’m someone I’m not just to keep peace in the family.”
I took a breath and decided to lay it all out. “I’m about to go over Dad’s head and close a business deal that screws him out of a lot of potential profit. All because of a woman.”
Austin started laughing, really laughing, the kind of deep, genuine laughter I remembered from our childhood. “Oh, wait. You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Shit, Kent.” The laughter faded, replaced by respect. “What’s her name?”
“Sylvie. And before you ask, she’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. She’s everything I didn’t know I was looking for.”
“Shit,” Austin said softly. “You really are serious.”
“I am.”
Austin was quiet. I could hear wind in the background, like he was standing outdoors.
“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, it’s nice to hear that at least one of my brothers has some balls to make his own choices and step out from under the Bancroft shadow.”
Austin had always been the rebel, the one who’d refused to conform to family expectations. To hear him acknowledge my choices with pride made me feel like maybe I wasn’t completely losing my mind.
I wasn’t making a bad choice. I was doing the right thing for me. And like Sylvie liked to tell me all the time, my dad didn’t need any more money. None of us did.
“Fair warning, though,” Austin continued. “It can get lonely. Sometimes that’s the price you pay for going after what you want instead of what everyone else thinks you should want.”
“Are you lonely?” I asked.
Austin’s laugh this time was softer, more rueful. “Less than I was when I was trying to be someone else to please people who were never going to be satisfied anyway.”
“But no regrets?” I asked.
“Nope. If you’ve got a woman, I say do it. You’re not living for Dad or any of the other ones. Who’s going to be there at the end of the day? Them or her? Who’s going to keep your bed warm?”
“I know,” I said. “I get it.”
The call ended shortly after that, with Austin’s characteristic abruptness. But his words lingered, settling into validation in my chest. At least one person in my family understood the choice I was making, even if he couldn’t offer much in the way of comfort about the consequences.
I was preparing to spend the evening alone, maybe call Dad back and face whatever wrath was waiting for me, when I heard footsteps on the stairs outside Sylvie’s apartment.
The door flew open, and Sylvie burst in, grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating with excitement.
“Change of plans,” she announced, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from the couch. “You’re coming to dinner.”
“Sylvie, I told you—”
“My family wants you there,” she said, her eyes bright with joy. “Dad specifically asked me to come get you. He said, and I quote, ‘Christmas dinner isn’t complete without everyone we care about around the table.’”
That was a surprise. “He said that?”
“He did. And Brom actually nodded in agreement, which might be the Christmas miracle we’ve all been waiting for.”
I looked down at my jeans and sweater, suddenly self-conscious about my casual attire. “I’m not really dressed for it.”
“You’re perfect,” Sylvie said firmly. “Come on. They’re waiting.”
She dragged me out of the apartment and up to the lodge, chattering excitedly about the dinner preparations and how her mother had made her famous honey-glazed ham and how there would be enough food to feed half the town.
At the door, I hesitated one more time. “Are you sure about this?”
Sylvie turned to face me, her expression suddenly serious. “Kent, you said you wanted to build a life here. With me, with my family. This is what that looks like. Family dinners and holiday traditions and being part of something bigger than just the two of us.”
She was right, of course. If I wanted to truly belong here, I had to be willing to accept all of it. Not just the romantic moments with Sylvie but the complicated family dynamics and the pressure of being included in something so meaningful to them.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
She opened the door to her parents’ house. There were candles throughout the room, and the scent of roasted ham and fresh bread filled the air.
Harold looked up as we entered and smiled. “Kent,” he said, standing and extending his hand. “Glad you could join us.”
“Thank you for having me,” I said, shaking his hand. “I don’t want to intrude on family time.”
“Sounds like you’re basically part of the family.” Harold chuckled. “We may as well break you in gently.”
Sylvie led me to a seat at the table. I sat down next to her. I looked around and felt a strange feeling.
I felt like I was home.
For the first time in my adult life, I was sitting at a dinner table not because of obligation or networking or family duty, but because people genuinely wanted me there. Because I mattered to them, not for what I could provide or what family name I carried, but for who I was as a person.
As Harold placed a generous slice of ham on my plate and Gigi ladled stuffing beside it, I thought about Austin’s words about the price of going after what you wanted instead of what others expected.
Maybe loneliness was a risk. Maybe there would be consequences for the choices I was making. But sitting there surrounded by Sylvie’s family, I knew with absolute certainty that whatever price I had to pay would be worth it.
This was what I wanted. This was what I was choosing.