My heart drops.
Fuck, he can’t be more than thirty-five, but the resemblance is uncanny.
Willis & Sons Winery?
This guy has to be Bobby’s older brother.
“The tasting room isn’t open yet,” he says politely into my stupor, “but it’s unlocked if you want to wait inside. I can be back in a few minutes.”
“We’re not here to taste wine,” I hear Bobby announce. When I look he’s standing half in, half out of the car, staring across the roof. “I’m looking for Greg Willis. My name is Bobby—”
“Rowan. You’re Bobby Rowan,” he exclaims in stunned disbelief.
The color drains from the man’s face.
Crap, I can tell he knows exactly why we’re here and has been catapulted into his own holy shit moment.
The vineyard around us grows uncomfortably still.
Why doesn’t someone say something?
Fine. “Do you know where he is?” I ask.
The man’s eyes shift back to me, and then he hurries across the gravel, extending his hand. “I’m Greg Willis. This is my dad’s winery. I run it with my brothers. And you are?”
Oh my God, this hot, only slightly older version of Bobby is Greg Willis? His birth father? He couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen when Bobby was born.
I shake his outstretched hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Willis. I’m Kaley Rowan. I’m Bobby’s wife.”
His eyes widen and then he smiles and steps back. Almost in slow motion, he turns toward Bobby. “I’m the man you’re looking for.”
Bobby comes around the car, stopping close next to me. “My wife has some papers that indicate you are my father.”
Greg nods. “Don’t need to see them. I can tell just by looking at you, Bobby. And I’ve waited a very long time to meet you.”
I can feel the emotion coursing through my husband. “The records had an address for you, but none for my birth mother, Ellen. Do you know where she is?”
Greg’s eyes cloud over. “She was my high school sweetheart. We married right after graduation. Never had any more children. Just you. My wife died two years ago. A car accident. But I can tell you everything you want to know about Ellen.”
I stare up at Bobby to see how that one hits him. He purses his lips, nodding and looking dazed.
“We’ve come a far way to meet you,” I say. “It’s really hot today. Is there someplace cooler we can sit and talk?”
Greg flushes. “Why don’t we go into the house?” he suggests eagerly. “The entire family will be here later. My brothers—your uncles—and my dad. Please stay. I know everyone will want to meet you.”
Bobby’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He’s choking back emotion, and I can tell he’s not going to be able to speak anytime soon.
I shift my gaze to find Greg imploring us with his eyes. “We’d love to stay. We want to meet everyone.”
Greg’s smile is enormous—exactly the same smile as Bobby’s—as he gestures us toward the front door. “Come on, then. Let’s get you inside.”
Bobby nods. He looks like he can hardly take in air. His fingers clutching my hand squeeze lightly. I kiss his arm and step ahead toward the house.
I pause at the front door and look at Greg. “I’m so happy we came.”
“I’m so happy you’re here,” he says as we step into the house.
I peek back over my shoulder to make sure that Bobby is following from the yard. God, I’ve never seen him look so overwhelmed, but his expression tells me this is all going to be OK. The room is be filled with that tentative awkwardness of two people in an intense moment not knowing where to start, but the air is also warm with pulsing emotion from both men.
This is good, really good.
Bobby needed this.
I give myself a mental pat on the back.
“Should we sit down?” Greg says. “There’s so much I want to know. I want to know everything about your life, Bobby, and your beautiful wife here. And I’m sure you have questions. I’ll answer anything you ask me.”
Bobby nods, and I cross the room trying to decide where to sit. Then I sink down on a sofa and wait for the two men—unable it seems to do anything but stare at each other—to step into this incredible moment with me.
Finally, Bobby sits in the spot beside me and his dad takes a chair close and facing us.
Bobby rakes a hand nervously through his hair. “I don’t know where to start.”
Greg laughs. “I don’t either. Why don’t I start with what I know? I know you grew up in Pacific Palisades. I know you are one hell of an athlete and was your graduating class’s valedictorian. I know who your adoptive parents are, Len and Linda Rowan. I know you’ve been traveling across the US for the past two years. Your mom, Linda, is a good woman. She’s been sending us letters and pictures of you through the adoption attorney your entire life. We never wanted to give you up. We kept you for two months, but we were just too young to do right by a baby. It was the hardest thing we ever had to do, giving you up. But it was the right thing and we felt so blessed that we found Linda for you after we received the first letter from her. It meant so much to Ellen every month to get a letter and some pictures of you. An enormous comfort to know we did well by you, especially since God never saw fit to give us more children. That would have made life impossible for Ellen if we hadn’t known you were happy. Linda is a loving woman and prolific letter writer. I know a lot about you, Bobby Rowan. A lot more than you think.”
Bobby’s tense face cracks with a smile. “I hope not,” he murmurs and both men laugh.
Ah. A joke. A good sign.
I relax into my husband’s side. There are times Linda just floors me. This is one of those times. No wonder she didn’t hesitate or argue when I asked for information to unseal Bobby’s adoption records. She’s been communicating with his birth parents on her own for years.
Greg is right. Linda Rowan is a good woman and Bobby couldn’t have done better in the adoptive mom department. She not only raised an incredible man, but was the kind of mother who could make days like today possible.
As I listen to them quietly talk, a part of me wishes Linda was here to see this.
This would make her happy, too, I think.
I wonder if I can sneak a video without them noticing.
I slyly reach into my tote.
EPILOGUE
Seven years later
I hurry through the house to my parents’ backyard to find my dad surrounded by my brothers and sisters.
Jeez, Krystal looks agitated and annoyed, but then again this is her high school graduation trip before she moves to New York to attend Juilliard.
I avoid her stare, the angry sister stare, pinning me as I cross the patio.
Fine.
I’m late.
Deal with it.
It’s not like the plane is going to leave the airport without us, and if she had half a clue what a chore it was getting out of the house with a husband and two boys, she wouldn’t be so darn petty about waiting an extra twenty minutes.
Mom’s not even here yet.
See, I’m not late.
“Where’s Mom?”
My dad whirls toward me. “There’s my princess. Chrissie is still packing. We were starting to think you were going to cut out on us.”
I kiss him on the cheek. “I wouldn’t do that. I love our annual family trips. I’m sorry I’m late. I was sick all morning. I’m pregnant again.”
My dad’s jaw drops. “You’re joking, right?”
I shake my head. “No. Did a stick test. Pretty darn sure grandchild number three is on its way.”
Those black eyes burn. “Where the hell is that son-in-law of mine?”
“Well, that was a little mean, Alan,” I chide, mimicking my mom.
“What is wrong with that boy? You’ve just launched a start-up independent film company. That should be your focus. Two kids. Enough. Why can’t he listen?”
I bite back a smile and do a pout instead. “Well, that’s not the reaction I expected. And stop pretending you don’t like Bobby. I know that you do.”