Page 85 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

“Why do you need a mansion?”

“I suppose, if you want the full dorm-room experience, that’s one thing. But if you wanted a cozy living situation with your own wing so that I didn’t have to hear you and your boyfriend over on that side of the house…”

“I don’t wanna hear you and your boyfriend, either.”

“Okay, well. Maybe instead of a mansion, two smaller houses, side-by-side,” Clark said, of course, focused on the logistics and not the fact that we were all casually braiding our lives together.

“Oh my God, Dad.” River let his head drop back, returning to the drama. “You’re so embarrassing. What makes you think Miguel and I wanna live that close to you?”

Clark blinked. “You don’t wanna live close to me?”

River’s serious expression broke. “Of course I do. Especially if you’re paying.”

“Wait, how did I get roped into this?” Miguel gave River a saucy wink. “Who said I wanted a live-in boyfriend?”

River pinned Miguel with a look I’d seen his dad give me. “Wanna try that again?”

Miguel pulled his messy braid over his shoulder. “I suppose it wouldn’t betoobad.”

“You know what? You can sleep on the couch.”

“We don’t even live together yet.”

“Yeah, and for the first week, you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

I laced my fingers with Clark’s, and we watched as they bickered back and forth, floating closer to one another, until they were kissing more than they were arguing.

“We are never going to be that ridiculous,” I whispered conspiratorially. “Because we are adults.”

“Exactly.” He sent me a silly grimace. “For instance, I would never assume you’d want to live with me.”

“But it’s not a no, right?” I asked, kissing his uninjured brow.

He glowed. “It’s not a no.”

Chapter 25

Clark

It’d been six months since I dragged my son all the way out to Snow Creek Ranch. Six months of physical therapy selfies and nightly FaceTiming, Beau and Miguel coming out to Chicago, me and River going back out to Snow Creek Ranch.

Me working with my executive team to finalize the sale of the office and to ensure that my moving out-of-state didn’t harm the company. River, working out his degree path. First, a bachelors in applied fine arts, then his master’s in psychology. He hadn’t decided yet whether to go for the doctorate, but he had a start.

He also started seeing a trainer, which I somehow got roped into. We were both a little stronger for it, and River rarely needed his walking stick. That may change as he aged, but youth and plain stubbornness were on his side.

More importantly, my son was wearing red today. Because it was Christmas. The first anniversary of his mother’s death, and our last Christmas in Chicago.

We’d been crying on and off for the better part of two days.

He and Miguel have been full steam ahead. Beau and I, on the other hand, have tried to go a little more slowly. This big, life-changing move had a lot of moving parts, a lot of back-and-forth, and the uncertainty of young love.

But I knew the look on my son’s face. He was in love, a forever kind of love, and I suspected that as they got older, Miguel wouldn’t be just River’s boyfriend. He’d eventually be my son, too.

I eyed the wall of photographs above the dining room table, as I frequently did. There, surrounded by photographs of me and River through the years, was the painting he’d made for his mother. Him, a toddler, sitting in and around all of her pretty things, beaming so proudly.

I’d returned to therapy. I was still figuring out how to forgive my ex-wife for what she had done. My therapist said forgiveness didn’t have to be the goal. For me, it did, though.

Revealing the true cause of the accident had lanced a wound, which made things better. But it also—sometimes—still had the power to make things worse. Despite all the wonderful things happening, all the plans being made, River’d had some of his worst days since our time in Snow Creek.