Still, my girl battles on. I’m so damn proud of her and the woman she’s becoming. Instead of letting the adversity get to her, she channels Viv and pours any frustrations into her music. She’s already working on her next track now that “The Girl in the Mirror” is about to be released into the world. In fact, supposedly that’s what tonight is about. She told me to come over straight after training to celebrate the premiere of the song on her brand-new social media accounts for “Viv Hastings.” Zero followers. Zero visibility. She even told Joel to stay quiet until after everything was live, which I’m sure he wasn’t happy about. She wanted us to be the only ones viewing its premiere tonight. It goes completely against all social marketing rules and nearly led to a fist fight with Hadley, but I thought it was hilarious—especially now that I get to go to a “launch party” of one person. Well, two, since I’m sure Hadley and Gen have patched things up by now.
I don’t even knock anymore, just push through the door and call out so they know I’m here.
“In the kitchen!” Genevieve calls back, and yeah, maybe I’m a little disappointed she didn’t greet me at the door. Has she not been missing me as much as I seem to be desperate for her? I try not to let it get to me as I make my way through the now familiar corridors to the kitchen. I turn the corner—and freeze.
What?
No.
What?!
“Holy…” I can’t even speak as seven giant grins shine back at me from around the island. Genevieve giggles, launching forward as much as her ankle allows to throw herself in my arms. Guess that’s looking better too.
“Surprise,” she says softly, glancing up into my stunned face. “Merry Christmas.”
A knot forms in my throat. It can’t be. It just can’t. God… it’s… I shake my head, unable to form words. If this is my Christmas gift, there’s not an object on the planet I could give her to match it.
“Hey, big brother,” Camille says, moving forward, arms outstretched. Gen releases me to make room for my sister who wraps me in a tight embrace. I bury my face in her hair, still breathless at the fact that she’s here.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper. “All of you are here,” I add, looking up at my entire family—Maman, Lea, Zoe, Eric, and Emma. And of course Camille.
“I was right as usual,” Camille says in French, pulling back to meet my gaze. “She’s amazing.”
You would think traveling across the continent after not seeing her son in months would reset my mother’s priorities, but the first thing she does after greetings and hugs is carjack Devin to drive her and my pouty sister Zoe to the store. Apparently, she was appalled by the lack of provisions in Genevieve’s pantry, and no amount of debate about the merits of private chefs would convince her otherwise. No, those amateurs could have the week off as far as she was concerned, and Camille and I exchanged amused looks as she fussed about the lack of ingredients for her Cipâte, Tourtière, and Bûche de Noël. Not to mention every other comfort food her host’s (and her son’s) dietician would absolutely forbid. I’d love to see them try to throw down against my mother on this.
While they’re gone, my remaining siblings take over the mansion, running from room to room like explorers, reacting with excitement at each new find. The twins’ shrieking can be heard from a wing away. Camille squeals when she finds the library. Lea pretty much passes out when she discovers anything related to music, which in this house, is everywhere. Genevieve follows behind at a distance, absorbing it all with keen fascination and wonder. My concern over the impending disruption that’s about to descend on her estate fades when I see how much she’s enjoying her full house. Her raw intrigue over my loud, hurricane of a family both warms my heart and breaks it.
And then the twins find the pool.
“On veut aller nager!! S'il-vous-plaît, Oli!” They cry in unison, jumping up and down.
“Il fait froid dehors,” I point out, sighing at their skeptical look. Cold? For L.A. maybe. For natives of northern Quebec, it’s downright tropical.
“What are they saying?” Genevieve asks.
“They want to swim, but Oliver is being a jerk about it. He says it’s too cold,” Camille translates, grinning when I shoot her an annoyed look.
“The pool is heated,” Genevieve says quickly. “They’d be fine. Plus, the hot tub is beautiful in this weather.”
I grunt as Camille tells the twins to go change into their suits and shoves my shoulder as she passes. “You’re going in too, grumpy,” she says to me.
I glare at her, ready to argue when I see the look of pure joy on Genevieve’s face. “Do you think they’d want to use the slide?” she asks, eyes wide and hopeful. “We put it in, but no one ever uses it. We have pool toys too that are so cute and still in the packaging. There’s this dolphin and a turtle and… I mean, if it’s okay with you…” She bites her lip, and my chest aches as I pull her against me and kiss her hair.
“They’d absolutely love that. I’ll go change. Is my stuff still in the pool house?”
After everyone’s ready, Camille and the twins jump into the water, while I help Genevieve with the toys. She looks ten years younger as she
