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He and I had si the coiven him free rein My only stipulation was that I could pu himself too much

Eo of the ss Like the other day, when I ca at the wall in the dining room

“Do I ooden frao o with the frao to waste On the other hand… Oh, for chrissakes, I’ myself a headache”

I opened the door and stepped in carefully The living room was quiet, and I couldn’t see anyone nearby I knew today was the decorator’s last day Shan had gotten his old-school British library design in the living roos he wanted

To be honest, it was fucking perfect, from the built-in bookshelves that were already filled with books to Shan’s whiskey collection that took up a corner near the patio doors Fro leather recliner we both fit into Fro flat-screen Hell, I was even on board with the pillows and blankets and the knickknacks One of s from former patients of Shan’s Kids had loved their Dr Shan

“Shan?” I called He couldn’t be in the kitchen; neither of us cared about that area We’d told the decorator to do whatever she wanted, as long as we got a good space for a coffeeroom either… I peered in, and nope, he wasn’t there

This rooh Me too, actually It was in here his list had expanded

“I want intimate farandchildren to sleep—for the twins too when they visit Because if we think about it, atch the next generation of Sons grow up here I want us to be involved in their journey”

He was starting to consider CJ as his grandson, which was only randson? I shook rinned to myself

I kinda loved it He was char Grandpa O’Shea to every kid in the syndicate

He was finding his way again

How could I not love that?