In the dimly lit living room, Tristan stood at a distance, watching Rain settle a blanket over Pip’s shoulders. He stared at Rain’s face, at the loving look in his eyes, and knew then, that to understand this quiet man, he needed only to accept the amazing bond between Rain and his son.
He envied them a little. He couldn’t be so close to his own daughters. They knew him as Uncle Tristan, and that was the arrangement they’d all agreed on when Rachel had been pregnant. Though lately, Tristan was feeling more and more conflicted about his role with the girls. He hadn’t been raised by his biological father. His mother had never told him that the man he thought was his father, was in fact, his uncle. Maybe that was why his ideas on fatherhood weren’t clear. Or maybe he was simply growing older
