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I realized the importance of getting my nephews up to speed on the news. I also knew they’d refuse to meet me, so I accepted Sinclair’s help in arranging this meeting.
We're at his home office in his Primrose Hill townhouse—which had been designated neutral territory by them. I owe Sinclair for getting all my nephews in one place in a few hours. Is it something to do with the fact that, since my father is unwell, I suddenly feel responsible for them? My middle brother was killed in a car accident, and as for my oldest brother… Not only is he estranged from Arthur, but I haven’t spoken to him in years. Which puts me in the position of being the oldest member of the family with ties to my nephews. And fuck, if that doesn’t make me feel my age… Again.
My father's illness was sudden. It reminds me of the need to accomplish everything I want to accomplish. Besides marrying Vivian, reconciliation with my nephews is high on that list.
But I never equated death with Arthur, despite his advancing years. Influenced by his strong personality, I’d created this narrative of him being an unshakeable force in my mind. I’d been convinced he was someone who’d keep going on forever, some who could bend, even death to the force of his personality. But being witness to how things can change in the blink of an eye has made me realize I’d be a fool to ignore the passage of time. Or that my time on this earth, too, isn’t forever.
I feel a sense of urgency, a need to do everything I’ve wanted to. A need to embrace my destiny, to not be hesitant about going after what I want. It’s why I knew I had to get my nephews together, so I could speak with them.
"Her name is Imelda Whittington." I glance around the faces in the room.
Connor is the first to react. "Did you say Whittington?" His gaze widens on the screen on the wall. He’s off on another of his research trips. Unlike my other nephews, Connor did not join the Marines. He also opted to use his brilliance to pursue a career in biochemistry. He heads up the smallest and most profitable arm of the Davenport Group, which produces life-saving pharmaceutical drugs. Along with running the business, he also produces research papers, which he presents at conferences to fellow scientists in different parts of the world. He’s off on these field trips and opted to join our impromptu gathering virtually.
Ryot agreed to attend and stands glowering in a corner of the room.
"Whittington?" Knox says slowly. "So she’s?—"
"Toren Whittington’s mother," I add.
"Is this the same Imelda who was at my wedding?" Nathan frowns. "She’s also Skylar’s friend, Zoey’s grandmother.”
"Indeed." I nod. "In fact, that’s where they first met."
"I had no idea her surname was Whittington." He rubs his temple. "Not that it would have stopped me from having her at my wedding, considering she walked Skylar down the aisle."
"She doesn’t have any connection to the Whittington family fortune, apparently. She walked away from it all after her husband died. Her son runs the Whittington Group of companies."
"So, she gave up her right to the Whittington fortune?" Knox’s tone is disbelieving.
"Apparently, she doesn’t want to have anything to do with his money. She has enough from a trust her parents left her; she lives off that. She’s also part of a motorcycle gang."
Tyler chokes on his drink, again. "Isn’t she old?"
"In her early sixties." I frown at him. "Doesn’t mean she can’t ride a motorcycle."
"That’s not what I meant." He raises his hands. "It’s just, you have to admit, she doesn’t have the profile of the kind of girlfriend I’d have picked for Arthur. Not that I’d have picked any girlfriend for Arthur. I mean, can the man get it up anymore?"
Knox grabs hold of the nearest object, which happens to be a stress ball, and lobs it at Tyler. He ducks, and the object hits the floor and bounces toward the door. "Heard of the blue pills, arsehole?" Knox growls.
"Heard about not being disrespectful to your grandfather?" I glower at the two of them.
Tyler’s features take on an embarrassed look. "Didn’t mean to sound insolent, but hey, you have to admit to being curious about how he gets it up at his age. Unless"—his brow clears—"oh wait, you’re taking it personally because you have to use the blue pills, too, is that it? I—" he bites off the rest of whatever he was about to say, for I’ve rounded the table, grabbed his collar, and hauled him to his feet. I pull back my fist before I spot the smirk on his features. Wanker’s trying to get to me, and he almost succeeded.
"I can keep going long after you lose steam and collapse in a puddle, you knob-headed tosser."
He wipes the grin off his face. "Sorry mate, didn’t mean to be insulting."
"Yes, you did."
He smirks. "And you walked into that one."
I blow out a breath. I did, and that’s a first. First Raven, then my father. The combination of emotional blows has thrown me off kilter. I release him, then straighten the collar of his shirt. "You’re a fuck-witted, mangy-arsed, wank-spangled dipshit."
"Ouch, don’t think I warranted that."
I shove at his shoulders, and he sits down heavily. "Alright, knock it off old man."
"You bloody—" I raise my fist, but Knox grabs me and pulls me back.
