VOLUME ONE: Every Little Thing

Grayson Coleman poured three fingers of his uncle's best scotch and took a seat in the corner, away from the fray of Hunter and Megan's wedding. The first sip traveled through him like liquid fire, heating him from the inside and giving him something to think about other than the rage that had been resurrected by the decision his cousin Max's ex-girlfriend, Chloe, made about their baby son.

It had been twenty long years since Grayson's father walked away from his wife and children, leaving Grayson and his mom to pick up the pieces for the others. He'd loved being the oldest in his family and had wallowed in the privileges that went along with being the eldest. Until he became the man of the family overnight, responsible for his distraught mother and seven younger siblings who were looking to him to make sense of something that still didn't make sense all these years later.

Here he was now, a man of thirty-six, an accomplished lawyer, and the scene with Chloe and Max in his aunt Molly's kitchen had taken him back to the long-ago night that marked the official end of his childhood. He could still remember the panic, the despair, the fear, the rage - all of it congealing into a hot knot of anxiety in his gut that he'd carried with him ever since.

How anyone could walk away from their own kid, let alone eight of them, was beyond him. He actively resented Chloe, a woman he barely knew, for what she'd done to her son tonight. For someday, in the not-too-distant future, Caden would find out that his mother had rejected him, and he'd never be the same.

Grayson had never been the same. He took another deep sip of the scotch, letting the searing heat soothe him.

"What's that stuff?" a little voice next to him asked.

He looked over at the girl with the red curls who'd sat next to him in his quiet corner that wasn't so quiet anymore. "It's scotch. You ever had it?"

She wrinkled her adorable nose. "Of course not. I'm a kid. Kids don't drink scotch. My Pop likes it, though, so that's how I know what it is."

"What do you drink?"

"I like apple juice, but Mommy says it has too much sugar, so it's a special treat."

"Your mommy is very wise."

"She's very pretty, too." Pointing, the girl said, "That's her right there."

He followed her finger to the blonde he'd met the night before, and had to agree that Lucy's sister, Emma, was indeed gorgeous. Her daughter took after her aunt Lucy with her red hair, green eyes and pale skin, whereas her mom was a willowy blonde with big blue eyes.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Who wants to know?" he asked, amused by the girl's blatant matchmaking.

"I do."

"And what's your name?"

"Simone."

"That's a pretty name. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No! I'm nine. Nine-year-olds don't have boyfriends. You're like Colton," she said of his cousin, who was engaged to Lucy. "He knows nothing about kids."

Grayson knew more about kids than any childless man his age, but he didn't share that information with the girl. "What kind of stuff should I know?"

"Well, you should know that nine-year-old girls don't drink scotch and have boyfriends."

"I guess you don't smoke, then, either, do you?"

She dissolved into giggles, and he lost a tiny piece of his heart to her. What a cutie. "No! I don't smoke. Smoking is gross, and it kills you."

"That's exactly right. Stay away from that stuff."

"What do you want for Christmas this year?" she asked.

God, what a sweet question. What did he want anyway? How about some peace and a whole new life? That'd be a great place to start. "I want a pair of socks. What about you?"

"Socks? Who wants socks for Christmas?"

"I do, and it's my Christmas list, so you don't get to make fun of it."

"That's true. Sorry."

He nudged her with his elbow. "I was only kidding. You can make fun of me. Socks are a dumb thing to want for Christmas. What's on your list?"

"I asked for a new American Girl doll, but they're kind of expensive. Not sure that'll happen. But it's okay if it doesn't. I always get lots of cool stuff."

"I'm sure you're spoiled rotten."

"Not really. It's just me and Mommy, so we have to watch our pennies. That's what she says anyway."

Grayson wanted to buy her the doll and any other damned thing she wanted to make up for the fact that her father wasn't in her life. He was drawn out of that thought by the arrival of Emma, who'd come to claim her daughter.

"Are you bothering Grayson?" Emma asked.

"Your name is Grayson?" Simone asked, giggling. "What kind of name is that?"

"Simone!"

"It's a smart, distinguished name, I'll have you know."

Simone covered her mouth, as if that could contain her laughter, and he was utterly beguiled by the glee in her mischievous eyes.

"I'm sorry about her," Emma said. "The charm school wouldn't have her, so I'm doing the best I can on my own."

"I'd say you're doing a pretty great job," Grayson said, looking up at her. She had a body that wouldn't quit and absolutely stunning blue eyes.

"You should ask my mom to dance," Simone said. "She loves to dance, and she doesn't get to very often cuz of me."

"Simone, honestly."

For Grayson, however, the thought of dancing with Simone's sexy, embarrassed mother was far better than sitting in the corner drinking scotch alone while old memories resurfaced to prove they could still hurt him all these years later. "That's about the best idea anyone's had all day," Grayson said.

Simone's expressive eyes widened with joyful pleasure. "Really?"

Grayson stood and extended his hand to Emma, who blushed madly. "Really."

"Oh, um, you don't have to," Emma said haltingly.

"I'd love to. Shall we?"

As she looked up at him and took hold of his hand, Grayson felt like he'd been struck by lightning or gut punched or something equally unpleasant, except there was nothing at all unpleasant about it. In fact, it was the best feeling he'd had in a long, long time.

Hours after everyone else had gone to bed on Christmas night, five days after the wedding, Grayson lingered at his aunt Molly's because he'd yet to run out of things to talk about with the beautiful, shy and funny Emma Mulvaney. They sat in the den on the sofa closest to the fire that he'd kept stoked for hours while they chatted about their lives in Boston and New York, her adorable daughter, her sister's romance with his cousin and their jobs.

He learned that she worked as the office manager for dentists, and the rest of her life was devoted to Simone. Until recently, his had been devoted to work. That had led to their current conversation about balance and how to find it.

"So what made you decide to make the move now?" she asked.

He'd discovered she was an excellent listener, which made him want to tell her things he normally kept private. Most of the people in this world were accomplished talkers. Few were as good at listening. Emma was a true exception.

"I had this case assigned to me - We have these A-list clients, you know? The ones we pander to, no matter what disgusting thing they might've done. The senior partner calls them the 'gravy' clients. So this guy, a bigwig in the local business community, beat the shit out of his wife, and it was my job to get him off even though we all knew he did it. He put her in the hospital with broken ribs and a broken jaw, and it wasn't the first time."

Emma gasped, and her hand covered her heart. "Dear God."

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't make myself defend him when I knew he was guilty. All the money in the world just isn't worth it. I submitted my resignation, my partners bought me out, and here I am."

"You did the right thing."

"This time. There've been other times when I successfully defended the scumbags, and I'm not proud of that. But after a while, it gets harder to wash off the scum. It stays with you. I made a lot of money in that job. The kind of money I used to dream about having back when we were scrambling to make ends meet after my dad left. But when I saw the police photos of the injured wife, something in me just said, Enough of this crazy shit. I can't do it anymore."

Her hand on his arm was intended to comfort, but it stirred something else he hadn't experienced in ages, pure desire.

"I'm sure you'll make a very nice living here, without having to sell your soul to the devil to do it."

"I hope so. It won't be the living I was making in Boston, but I worked so much, I didn't have time to spend half of what I made there. It'll be okay. Anything is better than what I was doing there."

"What did your partners say when you told them you were leaving?"

"They tried to talk me out of it. A few said I was making a huge mistake, committing career suicide by moving home to the boonies." He shrugged. "Nothing they said convinced me to change my mind."

"Your gut was telling you it was the right move at the right time. I'm a big believer in following my gut."

"What kind of things has your gut told you to do?"

She thought about that for a second, which gave him time to study her sweet face and cheeks made rosy by the heat of the fire as well as several glasses of chardonnay. "It told me not to marry Simone's father or allow him to be in her life."

Grayson immediately sensed from her hesitation that this was not something she talked about often. "How come?"

"He wasn't always nice to me."

"Did he - Did he hurt you?"

"Once."

How was it possible, when he'd only just met her, that he wanted to find the guy and kill him for hurting her even once?

"When I told him it was over between us, he - he didn't take it well."

"What happened?"

"It was a long time ago. A lifetime ago."

"But you've never forgotten it."

She stared into the fire, the sparkle in her eyes dulled by memories. "No, I haven't."

Grayson didn't think before he reached for her, wishing he could take away the pain of someone he barely knew. That was certainly a first. She flinched, ever so slightly, but he saw it and realized the damage ran deep from the one time the man she'd loved hurt her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I never talk about it," she said with a shaky laugh. "Are you sure you're a lawyer and not a shrink?"

"Quite sure," he said with a chuckle, "although sometimes I think the two professions aren't all that different."

Emma took a drink of her wine and continued to stare at the fire. "When I told him we were done, he flipped out. He - He held me down and forced me to -" She blew out a deep breath. "When it was over, I told him to leave or I'd call the police. I said if I ever saw him again, I'd report what he'd done to me."

"Christ, Emma. You've never told anyone that? Not even Lucy?"

Shaking her head, she said, "No one knows how Simone came to be. Except for you now."

"Emma," Grayson said on a long exhale. Though he had no right, he drew her in closer to him, needing to hold her.

"My dad was so mad when he found out I was pregnant. He didn't speak to me for the longest time. I hated that he was so disappointed."

"Why didn't you tell him, sweetheart?"

"Because I didn't want Simone's life to be colored by how she was conceived. I couldn't bear that for her. As soon as I knew she was coming, I was in love with her. I didn't care how she came to be. Somehow I've managed to keep those two things very separate in my mind. There's him and what he did, and then there's her, perfect in every way and no reflection whatsoever of the man who fathered her. In fact, she's a perfect reflection of my sister. I love that." Emma wiped away a tear that had slid down her cheek. "I love that she looks like Lucy. I thank God every day that she doesn't look like him." She released another of those shaky laughs. "What is it about you that has me spilling my guts to a total stranger?"

"I'm not a stranger. Not anymore. I'm a friend, and I'm glad you finally told someone. What he did to you, Emma - It was a crime. You know that, right?"

Nodding, she said, "I've had counseling, and I've come to terms with what happened that night. As much as one ever accepts such things."

"And he doesn't know about her?"

She shook her head. "I've never seen him again, thank God. I used to be so afraid of him coming back and doing the math - But she looks nothing like him, and she's always looked young for her age. There would be no reason for him to suspect she's his."

If he were thinking like a lawyer, Grayson might have something to say to that. But he was thinking as a man who'd been profoundly moved by a woman for the first time in his thirty-six years. "You're amazing."

"Don't say that. I did what any mother would've done to protect her child."

"At tremendous personal expense."

"The payoff has been the most wonderful little girl that anyone could hope for. I'll never regret a thing because I have her."

"She's very lucky to have you, too."

"We're both lucky. We've made a nice life for ourselves, and I never think about this stuff anymore."

Grayson didn't know if he totally believed that, but he wasn't about to question her. "You must be beating the men away with a stick."

"Right," she said, laughing. "Between work and homework and dance class and birthday parties and soccer, I'm a regular dating machine."

"So there's no one special in your life?"

"Just Simone, my dad, Lucy, Colton and a few very good friends, including Cameron."

"Do you ever want more for yourself?"

She shrugged. "I've learned to be very satisfied and thankful for what I have."

"I want to see you again, Emma. I want to spend more time together." The words were out of his mouth before he decided to say them, because the thought of her getting away, of never seeing her or Simone again except at family events, was unacceptable to him. Here he'd just taken steps to simplify his life, and one night with her had made everything complicated again. And that was fine with him.

"Oh, um, you do?"

"I really do. I haven't talked to a woman the way I've talked to you tonight in, well, ever. I don't want to stop talking to you, even though I should let you get to bed so you're not exhausted tomorrow. Something tells me Miss Simone won't be too forgiving of an exhausted mother."

"You're right. She'll take full advantage. But I'm not quite ready to go to bed just yet."

"No?"

She shook her head as she returned his gaze, never blinking as they drank each other in. Once again, Grayson acted before thinking, leaning in to kiss her. He was careful not to move too fast or take too much, but he couldn't let this night end without tasting her. As soon as he processed that first taste, he knew it wasn't going to be anywhere near enough.

The slight mewling sound that came from her throat made him instantly hard. He drew back to look at her, slightly stunned by his reaction. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted and damp. He dragged his fingertip over her bottom lip.

"You're beautiful, Emma."

Her eyes opened slowly, and she took a long look at him, as if trying to gauge his sincerity. He'd never been more sincere.

"How long are you here?" he asked.

She cleared her throat. "Molly invited us to spend the week since Simone is on vacation."

"Could Lucy watch Simone so I could take you to dinner tomorrow night?"

"I - I think they'd both love that."

"How about you? Would you love it if Simone went with Lucy so you can go out with me?"

"Yes, Grayson, I believe I'd love that, too."

I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

, John Keats