The whole thing made me sigh with relief and a rare form of pure happiness that I only felt here and there since Natalie had passed.
“Ah!” Mary screamed, seeing her sister gain on her.
In the next second, Sarah toppled Mary and threw sand on top of her, getting it in her swimsuit.
A pang shot straight through my chest as I placed the beer down on the table next to me. If Natalie could only see this—our girls, growing up so fast.
If only …
“Girls, girls, girls.” Patty’s voice boomed like thunder. She broke the girls apart and dusted the sand off their legs.
I chuckled at the scene in front of me.
When Mary started for Sarah again, Patty lifted her in her arms to keep her at bay.
The sixty-year-old woman had strength; I’d give her that.
“But, Nana,” Mary implored, working her charm.
“Don’t Nana me,” Patty said, no nonsense. “You have to play nice with your sister.”
She’d been with the girls for almost four years and functioned more like their strict grandmother than their nanny—thus the name Nana. Plus, since my girls didn’t have any living grandparents around, Patty was the closest they were going to get to a nana.
Patty loved my girls like they were her own, and for that, I would be eternally grateful. When Natalie had died, my parents had hired Patty to assist us in helping raise the girls while I was at work. And when my parents had died a few years after, Patty had moved in with us permanently.
My phone vibrated on the table next to my beer, and I watched the light flash with a vendor’s number. My fingers itched to pick it up, but I had promised the girls that I wouldn’t work on this vacation. It was a promise I’d made to myself before we left for Cape Cod. And also one that Brad and Mason were making sure I kept.
Being the CEO of Brisken Printing Corp.—the largest printing company in the nation—I had endless responsibilities, but it wasn’t anything that my brothers couldn’t handle—Mason as CFO and Brad as VP.
I blew out a low breath, and regret settled deep in my gut as I thought of all the time I’d wasted on work before Natalie passed.
I wished we had taken that vacation to Europe that she’d always wanted. I’d promised her we’d go, but work always got in the way. A promise made was a promise kept. But back then, I thought we’d have eternity.
And then she was taken during childbirth, something no one could’ve prepared for. Her labor with Mary had been complicated. Natalie’s blood pressure had been through the roof, and …
I rubbed at my temple, pushing the memories of her lifeless body on the table out of my mind, and I forced my gaze back to my children. My biggest responsibility in life was raising those two lives that God had entrusted me with; therefore, I had to remind myself of that and focus on the present, the now.
When Natalie had died, people always said, “Be strong, for the girls.”
And when a drunk driver had taken my parents a few years later, they would repeat their guiding words. “Be strong, for your brothers. You are the oldest. The CEO.”
And I was.
I had been.
The only way I knew how to survive was just to push through.
So many people depended on me. Not only my girls and the family, but also the thousands of employees at Brisken. I had a duty to maintain with everyone. The reality of it all was that I just dealt. I didn’t get bogged down with the details because if I thought about all the responsibility set on my shoulders, it’d stress me out.
Mary sauntered over with the biggest pout, and I couldn’t help but smile. She was so sweet, really feisty, and mischievous as hell. But she owned my heart.
“Daddy! Sarah put sand in my butt,” she relayed, disgruntled. “Now, I have it in my swimsuit. I bet I’ll fart sand later.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
In one big swoop, I pulled her close. “If I saw correctly, you doused her with water when she was playing quietly and minding her own business.”
Her eyebrows pulled together, and right then, she looked like her mother—the blonde in her hair, the blue in her eyes.
Another pang. Harder this time.
My smile faltered but just a tad as she started making up more excuses.
“It was only a tiny sprinkle of water. Not that much. And it’s only because