“Oakland,” the boy corrected, glancing at his sister.
I smiled. “Welcome to the house, guys. Which one are you staying in?” The houses were named after states, HYA’s goal to have fifty in the next five years. At the moment, our three-acre estate contained five. We were looking at a lot in Sacramento for more homes, as well as spots in San Jose and Los Angeles.
“Georgia. Though they said we have to split up next month.” Worried glances shot between two faces that were too young to have any concerns other than spilled milk.
“Don’t worry about that.” I readjusted Hannah on my hip, her weight tiring. “By next month you guys will have so many friends here you’ll be begging for time away from each other. And the separation will only be at night. Days and meals are all free-for-alls between homes, so you guys will have lots of time together, should you want it.” I glanced at Brant. “I’ve got to take Mr. Brant inside, but I’ll see you guys again before we leave.” I gently set Hannah down, giving each newbie a big smile before looping my arm through Brant’s and pulling him toward the main house aka HQ, a six thousand square foot structure on the back of the property, where meals were served, sleepovers and movie nights held, and general bedlam occurred all day every day.
“This place is amazing,” he said, glancing at the homes, the basketball court filled with moving bodies, a bevy of girls sprinting around the corner of a nearby house and flying past us.
“It is.” I nodded. “All made possible by your donation.”
“Maybe I should increase it.”
I grinned. “That was, in part, my ulterior motive in bringing you here.”
He paused, his firm hold on my hand bringing me to a stop. “You don’t ever need motives, Lana. Anything you want, anything that makes you happy… just ask.”
“I know.” I tilted my head. “But I figure you might as well see the impact of your money.” I pulled him forward. “Come on. I want to show you the main house.”
We stopped on the third floor deck, an open area scattered with outdoor furniture, a group of girls sunbathing to our right. From its height, you could see the entire campus. “How many kids live in this house?” he asked.
“None. This is the social hub, where everyone eats, plays, and studies. The houses are set up for breakfast and sleeping, little else. That system seems to cut down on temper tantrums over who is in which house.”
“I can’t imagine that the kids would ever want to leave. This place is like summer camp.”
I looked away. “Every kid wants love. To have parents whose focus is on their happiness. We can’t do that for a hundred kids. We try, but we can’t. They’d all leave this in a heartbeat for a chance to feel wanted. Loved.”
“You weren’t?”
I laughed, pushed on his arm. “I was talking about homeless kids, not my parents. My parents gave me everything I ever wanted.”
“Money and presents don’t equal love. I live in a huge house that doesn’t hold a bit of love. I know what empty feels like. It’s one of the reasons why I hate living alone.”
“My parents loved me.” I know the words must be true. Parents love their child. They just choose to show it in different ways. Mine chose to love by expectation.
“I love you.” He stepped closer, his hands settling on my waist. “You, Layana Fairmont, are impossible not to love.”
I scoffed. “You don’t know me enough to love me.” I’ve never been loved. Thirty years old and no man had ever uttered those words. A sad truth. Made possible by the dark lines of my ability to push away every man other than the one who stood before me, pulling me closer, his eyes owning me. This man I pulled closer, had turned over my heart somewhere along the place where I made the valiant effort to try and escape the artificial life plan that was ingrained in my blue blood.
“I love you. Every dark and light piece of you.” He lowered his mouth, but I stopped his kiss, pressing a hand on his chest.
“There’s no kissing on campus,” I whispered. “HYA policy.”
He frowned. “Don’t I hold an office of some sort in this organization?”
“Board president.”
He grinned. “I hereby, and for the next five minutes, strike that rule from the books.” He pulled me closer and pressed his lips to mine, a soft sweet brush of commitment, one that changed, grew more passionate and possessive, his hand moving to cup the back of my head, his mouth sealing the deal, catching my heart as it jumped over the edge of forever.
I loved this man back. Done. My heart was officially toast. When the kiss ended, I told him as much, his mouth taking mine with a final touch that celebrated the occasion.