Liam had never thought he could love anyone, either. Family had meant only pain and hurt, betrayal and disappointment. But then Jaxon had been born and his walls had started to crumble. After his dad died and he’d reconnected with his grandfather, a sliver of light had reached his heart. And then he’d met Daisy again. She hadn’t measured his worth in the amount of money he had, or the number of letters after his name. She liked him for who he was and how he made her feel. She had opened him up to a world of love and laughter, hope and happiness. And he had let her slip away.

“You won’t lose him. Not if I have anything to do with it.” Heart pounding, Liam ran over to the bulldozer and waved at the driver to stop. He told the contractor to stand his men down and raced into the partially fallen building.

Despite the gaping hole in the wall, the room was cool and quiet, the empty casks still standing in rows. Now, more than ever, it reminded him of the inside of a Spanish galleon, and he remembered telling Jaxon how he’d played pirates here when he was a boy. He looked down the longest row to the wall at the back and knew in an instant where to find his nephew.

“Brendan!” He shouted over his shoulder. “I know where he is.”

Together, they ran to the back of the rickhouse and found Jaxon crouched behind the old Murphy cask with a sharp stick in his hand. Biting back a sob, Brendan hugged Jaxon to his chest.

“What were you doing here?” he scolded, although his voice was shaking. “We were looking everywhere for you.”

“Your name was missing.” Oblivious to the panic he’d caused, Jaxon pointed to the cask that bore the names of all the Murphy men. “I wanted to carve it into the wood. I thought if your name was there then you wouldn’t knock the distillery down and when I grew up it could be mine.”

Brendan stroked Jaxon’s hair, and sighed. “I’d like to save it, too, but the distillery is old and falling apart, and we need to sell the land to save our company.”

“Can’t we fix it?” Jaxon asked. “You and me and Uncle Liam could work together. We could keep just this piece. I want to be a Murphy son.”

Brendan met Liam’s gaze over Jaxon’s head, and his lips pressed together in a slight grimace. “I’d like that, bud. I was always jealous that your Uncle Liam got to spend his time here with your great-grandfather. But he’s going to be living in New York, and I have the car business to look after . . .”

“But I can help.” Jaxon’s lower lip quivered. “I know all about the distillery. Uncle Liam showed me. And you hate your work. I heard you tell Mom.”

Liam ruffled his hair. “Sometimes adults say things they don’t mean.”

Brendan sat heavily on the old wooden floor. “And sometimes they mean what they say. He’s right. I hate it. It’s not what I wanted to do with my life. I joined the company to help Dad create a new family legacy, but in the end . . .” His voice quavered dangerously. “It was an empty shell. He’d taken everything of value and destroyed it.”

Until this moment, Liam had always thought Brendan was happy to follow in their father’s footsteps. It had never occurred to him his brother had dreams of his own. He touched Brendan lightly on the shoulder. “What about making this your legacy? Sell the company and get the distillery up and running again?”

“You don’t know how many times Lauren and I have talked about walking away . . .” Brendan shook his head. “But I couldn’t do it alone. It’s too big of a task.”

Liam’s pulse kicked up a notch as an idea formed in his mind. “What if I joined you?”

“You?” Brendan’s voice rose in disbelief. “What about New York? The partnership?”

“You’ve made me realize that I won’t find my self-worth in a partnership title if I haven’t found it first in myself. And I think that journey for me begins here with you and Jaxon and Lauren and Daisy.” He pulled out his grandfather’s knife and handed it to Brendan. “Jaxon’s right. There’s a name missing.”

Brendan took the knife, ran his thumb over the worn wooden handle. “Jaxon had a good idea about selling off some of the land and keeping the distillery. We could use the money to partially fund the refurbishment . . .”

We. A small word with so much meaning. It meant forgiveness, love, and acceptance. It meant closing old wounds and moving forward.

It meant home.

• 31 •

“SURPRISE!”

Daisy groaned as she closed the front door. Not again. She’d been looking forward to a quiet dinner with her dad and Priya before spending the evening preparing a revised pitch deck for Tanya. With Mia and Josh back in the office and a huge list of new responsibilities, it wasn’t easy to get any work done.

She dodged Layla’s nieces, who were chasing each other through the house, picked up two stray squeaky toys and put them in Max’s basket, tidied the enormous pile of shoes in the hall, and picked up three plates of half-eaten jalebis to take to the kitchen.

It was chaos as usual.

Jana Auntie was at the stove cooking pork vindaloo, and Lakshmi Auntie was rolling naan on the counter. Taara Auntie was stacking plastic containers of brown soup in the fridge, and Salena Auntie and Hari Uncle were arranging plates of appetizers while Mehar Auntie practiced dance moves in the hallway.

“Is this party for Dad and Priya’s wedding?” The sangeet was in two days, but she hadn’t heard about any planned get-togethers before then.

“Make way!” Priya wrestled a giant pink bakery box through the back door. “I’ve got another dessert. I’ve been trying new piping techniques, so this cake might be over the top for a meet-the-fiancé night, but I don’t think anyone is going to complain.”

“‘Meet the fiancé’?” Daisy racked her brain, trying to think which of her cousins were on the marriage market.