Home > The Aristocrat(27)

The Aristocrat(27)
Author: Penelope Ward

He nodded slowly and looked down at his thumbs as he twiddled them. “Thomas is my brother, yes,” he finally said.

“I didn’t know you had—”

“He died in childbirth.”

My heart clenched. “Oh no. Gosh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

“Was he older or younger?”

“Neither. He was my twin.”

My chest felt heavier by the moment.

“There were some complications. Apparently, something can happen where one twin essentially donates blood to the other. It’s called twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. And the recipient can suffer complications. It doesn’t always end badly, but it did in our case. They tried surgery to save him, but he was stillborn. My parents had made the mistake of announcing they were having twins ahead of time, so they couldn’t mourn in private. The press was all over it—the burial and everything.”

I felt absolutely nauseous for having initiated this conversation.

Tears formed in my eyes. “I should have never brought this up.” I reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Leo.”

“It’s okay.” He looped his fingers through mine and squeezed. “It is what it is. I can’t change it.” He was silent for a while. “Can I ask you a personal question, too?”

I nodded.

“Do you have any idea who your father is?”

He must have assumed this was a sore subject for me, but I was pretty numb to the idea of my father. At least that was how I’d trained myself—not to feel anything.

“Not a clue.”

“Have you ever tried to find out?”

I grabbed a water and took a long sip before closing the bottle. “When I was really young, I just believed whatever my mother said. She told me she didn’t know who my father was, and there was no way to figure it out. As I got older and understood the nature of her lifestyle as a junkie—that she might have used her body for drug money—I realized that was probably true. I guess I could’ve hired a private investigator, but I never pursued it. Whoever he is, he’s probably either a drug dealer my mother got involved with, or some poor, unsuspecting soul who has no clue he fathered a child. I don’t want to put anyone through the shock of finding out they have a kid twenty-four years later.”

Leo smiled sympathetically. “What if he wasn’t disappointed? What if he looked at it as a blessing?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I want to know the truth. I know that sounds odd, but I don’t think I could handle being rejected by him—whoever he is. It’s why I’ve never done one of those genealogy tests that match you with relatives. Maybe I’m missing out. Maybe I’m not. It’s a risk I’ve decided to take. Or not to take. However you look at it.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do you think I’m dumb for shutting the door on the possibility that I could find my father someday?”

“There’s absolutely nothing about you that’s dumb, Felicity. You know who you are, and you know what you can handle.”

The boat rocked gently as we continued to talk.

“It’s amazing how comfortable I am around you,” Leo said. “Back home, I feel like I’m two people—the one others see, and the one I really am, my authentic self. I trust almost no one. But I trust you. It’s a good feeling to let my guard down.” He looked up at the sky. “At the same time, I feel this pressure to experience so much more with you in the little time we have because I’m leaving. I want to know everything about you.”

“There’s not that much left to tell. I’ve told you almost everything. What else do you want to know?”

His eyes burned into mine for several seconds. “I want to know what you ache for…”

Despite the now-cool night air, I felt a rush of heat.

“This,” I finally said. “I hadn’t been worried about you leaving until you reminded me just now of how little time we have. I’ve been lost in our conversation tonight. I’m loving being here with you. It’s peaceful and exciting at the same time. I ache for more moments like this.”

He took my hand in his. “Do you want to know what I ache for?”

“What?”

“More time.” He squeezed. “More time with you. Or maybe I ache for time to stand still.”

“Yeah,” I muttered.

When I rubbed my hands over my arms, he said, “It’s chillier than I thought out here. Do you want to go inside for a bit? I’m thinking they’re probably upstairs by now. Maybe we’ll have some privacy.”

“That sounds good.”

We exited the boat and made our way inside. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty. I could hear footsteps upstairs and laughter in the distance, but it seemed we were in the clear from having to deal with the trio.

“Are you hungry for a late-night snack?” Leo asked. “I feel like I should make you something to eat.”

“Actually, I skipped dinner. I wasn’t that hungry earlier, but now it’s catching up with me. So yeah, I could eat.”

He looked around the kitchen. “Well, I’ll make you something, then.”

“I thought you couldn’t cook.”

“I can’t.”

That gave me a good chuckle.

“I’ve never cooked for anyone,” he said. “But it’s your lucky night. Because I’m going to cook for you.”

“This should be interesting.”

“Actually, it’s probably going to be dreadful.”

“What are you making?”

“It’s a little something called…you’ll find out.” He winked. “Actually, I have no clue. But I’ll figure something out. Sit down and put your feet up in the living room. I’ll bring dinner to you. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“It’s midnight. I probably shouldn’t.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, Felicity.”

“Okay, sure.” I shrugged. “Why not?”

He poured me a glass of wine, and I did as he said: put my feet up in the living room as I gazed out the large window at the moonlight over the bay. A warmness came over me. Leo made me feel wanted, special, and safe in a way I wasn’t used to experiencing. If I could bottle this feeling forever, I would. I knew it was fleeting, but for the moment, I cherished it.

Over the next several minutes, I heard lots of clanking in the kitchen. I hoped Leo wasn’t in some kind of distress. Finally, he appeared at the entrance to the living room.

“Okay, so it turns out, Sigmund pretty much cooked everything decent we had in the refrigerator tonight. I tried to make you an omelet, but I messed with it too much, and now it looks like soggy brains.”

I cackled. He’s adorable. I probably needed to rescue him, even if this was super entertaining. “Do you need help?”

“No. I have a Plan B. I’m going to present it to you, but you need to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise.” I paused. “Not to laugh…too much.”

He wriggled his brows. “I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, he returned carrying a single plate.

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