“Compensation,” Ford says with a resolute nod that is equal parts arrogance and privilege and so much like Callahan’s that my chest constricts at the sight of it. “We’re not in the habit of screwing over the people who work with us. I assure you.”

  “So . . .” Ledger asks.

  I suck in a breath and meet both Ledger’s and then Ford’s expectant gazes. I can’t do it. There’s no way I can work with these two men, day in and day out, and be reminded of the love I can’t have.

  It also means I would hold out hope for Callahan. To see him on the off times we happen to be in this office at the same time. To talk to him somehow, someway. That he would decide to stay put for good and be with me.

  And I can’t do that when I told myself I wouldn’t settle again.

  “Gentlemen. Thank you for the offer. I’m flattered and astounded by it.” I glance down at the table before looking back up to the brothers. “But I have to decline it.”

  “What?” Ledger laughs. Just like his brother, it seems the word no isn’t something he hears very often.

  I think of my talks with Roz over the past few weeks. Of explaining my aspirations to her to step out on my own someday. Her nervous laughter after my confession and then her wide eyes when she realized I was serious.

  “Why are you telling me this? Most people would fear I’d fire them, knowing their ultimate goal is to use me to build their reputation and then leave me to be a competitor.” She stares at me behind the black frames of her glasses.

  “I’m telling you because you are a strong female business owner. One who took the same leap ten years ago, and I figured if anyone would understand my drive to succeed, you would.”

  Roz stares at me with a guarded expression that I can’t quite read. “You want to do this?”

  I nod.

  “It’s a lot of long thankless hours. Hours spent behind a desk instead of on location being hands-on, like you just were.”

  I think of Callahan, it’s hard not to, thinking about how he loathed the behind the desk part but was so good at being on location.

  Do I want the same thing? Can I thrive in an office now that I’ve had a taste of what else I’m capable of?

  “It’s something I want to work toward. Learning the ins and outs of every facet over the coming year—if you’ll allow me the chance, of course—so that I take the leap if that’s what I decide I still want.”

  “You think you’ll be ready to take the jump after a year?”

  “No one’s ever ready, but sometimes you have to jump and then learn how to fly,” I say.

  “Sutton Pierce.” Roz’s smile widens. “I don’t know what happened to you down in the Virgin Islands—the confidence, the directness, the drive—but I’m loving it. I’ll gladly mentor you.”

  Callahan did. He’s what happened to me.

  But I can’t say that to anyone other than Lizzy.

  “My goal has always been to have my own firm. To work for myself. Over the past few weeks, and from the experience you’ve afforded me with Ocean’s Edge, I know now more than ever that that’s what I want to accomplish.”

  Another glance is exchanged between the two. “Playing hardball right out of the gate,” Ford says with a laugh. “Then let us be your first and only client. Be our exclusive consultant. Let us help you build a strong portfolio.”

  “I . . .” I laugh, overwhelmed. Did he really just say that? That he’d take care of Roz and hire me as an independent contractor, let me work for Sharpe International and only Sharpe International, while building my portfolio and making connections for the future? That’s like a dream scenario.

  What’s the catch?

  There has to be a catch.

  And then I look from Ford to Ledger and know exactly what the catch is—them. I’d have a daily reminder of the man I love. The man who walked away. It’d be like having him so close I could touch him, but knowing I can’t have him.

  “You’re not responding,” Ledger says.

  “Why would you do that for me?” I finally ask.

  “Because good people are hard to find, Sutton. And you’ve more than proven that you are just that, good at what you do . . . so while it might benefit you, we are the ones who get the most out of it.”

  “I’m flattered. And thank you. I’m a little overwhelmed. I mean, Roz . . . What would—”

  “Like we said, we’d handle her,” Ledger says.

  “Still, I . . .”

  “We know we’ve given you a lot to think about,” Ford says with a gentle smile. “Would you like a few moments to consider our proposal?”

  “Yes. Please.” My hands tremble so I clasp them to try and hide it from them. “I’d appreciate that.”

  They gather their laptops and papers and smile as they exit the conference room, leaving me sitting there dumbfounded.

  I need to move, to process . . . to think. Rising from my chair, I move toward the wall of windows and stare out at the city below but don’t really see anything. I’m too busy realizing everything I wanted career wise is just within reach but so terrifyingly close to what I can’t have.

  “Did we give you enough time?” Ledger asks as he walks into the conference room after what feels like only seconds. “Or do you need more?”

  I lower my eyes to look at my hands and sigh. “I’m sorry. I appreciate the offer and your faith in me, but at this time, I don’t think it would be the best decision—”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  My whole body stills as I hear those words. Words that were spoken to me the first time Callahan and I ever met. I’m afraid to hope he’s here, afraid to look up and see if he is.

  And if I do and he is, there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to keep the emotion off my face. There’s absolutely no way I’ll be able to keep what we had a secret from his brothers.

  “Look at me, Collins.”

  My chest tightens at that silly name spoken by an incredible man.

  I swallow over the hopeful trepidation lodged in my throat and dare to look up. Tears well in my eyes, but there he is. “Callahan.” His name is a reflex and an oath I’m bound to keep.

  Ledger looks from his brother, to me, and then pats Callahan on the back as he walks out of the conference room, shutting the door behind him.

  “They know,” he says when I’m certain panic blankets my face.

  “They know?”

  He nods and takes a step toward me. “I told them everything. Minus the details they don’t need to know, of course.” He winks, and I try to understand why he has a smile on his face when I’m struggling to breathe. To hope. To not want.

  “But . . . why?”

  “Why what?” he asks.

  “Why did you tell them?” I whisper.

  “Because I had to. Because I figured if I was staying here then I needed to come clean with them. And—”

  “What do you mean if you were staying here?” The first tear slips over, and I wipe it off my cheek.

  “All I’ve ever wanted is to get out of this place, to be free, and then when I had the opportunity to do so, I just couldn’t do it.”

  My heart races. My hands tremble. But I ask the question anyway. “Why not?”

  He closes the distance between us and lowers his head to my level as he cradles my face in his hands. His eyes, that liquid amber, gaze into mine and he smiles warmly. “Because I had other, more important things on my mind.”

  “Like?”

  “Like you are looking at the new Vice President of On-site Transition for Sharpe International Network.” His smile beams. “Someone wise once pointed out that I’m good at the micro aspect of this job. I took her words to heart and propositioned my brothers.”

  “Propositioned?”

  “I’ll get to be out of the office and on-site. I’ll get to travel. I’ll get to be part of my legacy, but make my own niche while doing so.”

  “That’s incredible. But what about your dreams to travel? What about—”

  “Those are things I still want, Collins, but I want you more.”

  “What?” I ask with confusion, almost as if I didn’t hear him. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying Brady’s wrong.”

  “Brady?” I laugh.

  “I don’t like expiration dates. I don’t want one with you.”

  “Callahan. Don’t—”

  His lips are on mine in the softest, most tender kiss that feels like a caress against every single one of my nerve endings. “Shh. The answer to the question, Collins—to what’s in it for you—is us.” A kiss on my cheek where another tear has slipped over.

  “Us?” I ask like an idiot. My head is spinning and my heart is swelling.

  “Us.” He nods. “I have a different proposition for you.”

  Oh God. Oh no. Not yet. And he must see the panic in my face because he throws his head back and starts laughing.

  “I’m not asking you to marry me, Collins. Let’s not go that crazy just yet.”

  I breathe out a huge sigh, and then start laughing until I look up and see his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised. “Would it be so bad?” he asks.

  I lean forward and kiss his mouth, my lips spreading into a smile against his. “No. No, it wouldn’t but don’t give a girl multiple heart attacks in one day.” I laugh again and rest my forehead against his. “What is this proposition you speak of?”

  “Ledger’s offer—our offer—still stands. Start your company, be your own boss, but let us be your client. Let us help you build your portfolio.”

  “And . . .”

  “And as the new VP, I have some serious demands.”

  “Oh really?” My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. From nerves to tears to grinning. Talk about an unexpected emotional roller coaster. This was definitely not how I expected this meeting to go. “What are they?”

  “That you must be on-site with me. That we work as partners. As equals. No more hiding. No more granny panties.”

  I hiccup over a part sob, part laugh as amusement wells in his eyes.

  And love.

  I thought I’d seen it before but was afraid to hope it was true.

  Now I see it, and it’s the most heart-stopping thing I’ve ever seen.

  “You’re serious,” I whisper.

  “Dead serious. We make a good team, Collins. That and I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight anytime soon, so two birds, one stone.”

  “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “I know I do.”

  “Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned negotiations?” I quirk an eyebrow.

  His laugh is low and deep. “There is no negotiating when it comes to us. Ever.”

  “Ever?”

  He presses a kiss to my lips. “Ever.”

  Sutton

  One Year Later

  The sound of laughter echoing from the outside patio makes me smile. It’s hard for me to decipher whose laugh is whose because when the three of them are together like this, they sound the same.

  Another laugh sounds off and my heart swells in my chest.

  Who knew these weekends away at their father’s estate in Sag Harbor would further heal the wounds and strengthen the bonds they have been mending over the past twelve months?

  Their agreement to meet here once a month, away from the office, with the promise of no talk about work while they slowly go through their father’s things he left behind, hasn’t wavered.

  Every month they come.

  Every month they go through pieces of their past and learn more of their father’s history.

  Every month they grow closer.

  I peek out the open French doors to watch them. Callahan is sitting forward, his elbows on his knees, a beer in one hand, his smile wide. Ledger sits across from him in a similar position, while Ford is pushing photographs out of a box across the table toward them.

  Photos their father had kept over the years. Moments captured that allow them to reminisce or learn something new altogether.

  It’s the first time Callahan has asked me to come along on his monthly helicopter flight out here. I told him I didn’t want to come. That him being here with his brothers was more important than anything.

  He insisted.

  “We’ve gone through all the legal, hard-to-deal-with stuff. We’ve hashed out our differences on that. This weekend we’re going through pictures.”

  “I still don’t feel right. Like it’s an invasion of privacy,” I say.

  “I want you there, Collins.” He kisses me and pulls me against him. “I need you there.”

  And even though I feared Ledger and Ford might resent me being here, being a part of something so very personal to them, they’ve made me feel like part of the family during the past twenty-four hours.

  “Do you remember that?” Ford can barely get the words out he’s laughing so hard.

  “Fuck. I got in so much trouble for that one,” Callahan says, holding the picture and staring at it.

  “You?” Ledger all but spits his beer out. “You’re the one who poured the bleach on the lawn and spelled D-I-C-K, and I’m the one who got in trouble when I was just trying to clean it up.”

  “I told you to use spray paint to hide it,” Callahan says. “Works like a charm.”

  “Fucker,” Ledger says but laughs.

  There is an ease between the three of them that is so inviting, so welcoming, I step into the open doorway and simply smile.

  Callahan notices me and motions for me to sit beside him.

  “C’mon, Sutton,” Ledger says when he notices his brother looking my way. “I’m certain we’re getting to some really embarrassing pictures of Callahan when we were little.”

  “Bowl haircuts and all,” Ford says.

  “Dude, if I had one then you had one,” Callahan says.

  “Blackmail material?” I ask as I move toward the table. “Yes, please.” I yelp when I go to sit down and Callahan grabs me by the waist, pulling me to sit on his lap.

  He kisses my cheek as he wraps his arms around me.

  Effortless.

  That’s what this is between us and it still astounds me every time we’re together. How easy this love we have is. We’ve spent a month working in Manhattan, three months at an old property in Napa that needed some work, and then back in Manhattan again . . . and while that time included long, hard hours of work, the time between was incredible. Laughter and love making and comfortable silence interspersed with more laughter.

  For a man who didn’t think he knew how to love, he’s shown me daily how cherished I am, how important and vital I am to him. He’s shown me how it is to be loved by someone’s whole heart.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Callahan murmurs in my ear, giving a perfect example to illustrate my thoughts.

  “I am too.”

  “See? Bowl cuts,” Ford says, sliding a picture in front of me that has me laughing so hard it brings tears to my eyes.

  They show me pictures, one after another. They share pieces of their life with me, stories, and images of their father I never met, but who still remains present. We laugh. Eyes water. Glances of brotherly love are exchanged.

  “See? I told you that you picked the right brother,” Callahan says after he holds up a picture of them as teenagers. Callahan has his shirt off and is flexing.

  “Let me see that.” I take the picture and hold it closer to my face. “You sure that’s you? I’m pretty sure that’s Ford,” I tease.

  Ford laughs and high-fives me.

  But it’s only when I look back toward Callahan does the laughter fade from my lips. “What is it?” I ask suddenly at the bittersweet look on his face.

  I follow his gaze to the photograph that was apparently stuck to the back of the muscle pose one, and my heart leaps into my throat.

  The image is faded and worn at the edges. The color is washed out in several spots. But as Callahan lifts it off the table, there is absolutely no mistaking what the image is of or where it was taken.

  A young Maxton Sharpe is standing on a sandy bluff, the sun is overhead, and a peculiar yet unmistakable stack of rocks is to his right. His hair is blowing in the breeze, his smile mesmerized, as he looks over to the woman beside him. She’s in a conservative sundress with a stylish hat on her head and the same adoring look on her face.

  “Do you know where this is?” Callahan whispers, his eyes swimming with tears when he looks up from the image of his mom and dad.

  I nod, my words escaping me and my own eyes filling with tears. “I do,” I finally whisper.

  It is the bluff in the Virgin Islands. The same one Callahan took me to on our last night together where we swayed in the hammock, sipped wine, and said a silent goodbye to each other.

  “He was there. He remembered.” And when Callahan closes his eyes and exhales a shaky sigh, I can only fathom how much this picture means to him.

  His dad had remembered the beach. The promise to his mom. It was all real. Not something the dementia stole and warped. It was one last truth his father shared with his son that Callahan could hold on to when he was gone.

  The deal for the resort, the reasons he let his father sign the deal, and the reason we met, all were valid.

  “He was right,” Callahan whispers as he slides the picture across the table to his brothers. “He remembered.”

  Callahan

  “I don’t know where your head is, but if it’s anywhere near where I think it is, you might want this.”

  “Want what?” I look over to where he’s holding a black velvet box.

  “Ford and I agreed that you should have this.”

  “Ledge. What . . .” I open the box and stare. Nestled within the cushioned insides is an oval cut solitaire set in place by an intricate band. Our mother’s engagement ring. I look up at my brother and then back to the ring. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing to say.” His smile is as kind as the hand he pats on my back with before walking out and leaving me staring at something that was so incredibly special to my mom.

  Just as Sutton is to me.