It felt so real, like I was in love. Only later did I wonder why I’d thought I could love a man so much older than me. What did we have in common? Those logical questions didn’t bother me at the time. My nineteen-year-old self was willing to believe in an unlikely fairy tale.
Then, when I told Leo about my feelings for Lane, he confessed.
He confessed that it was Caroline who’d hurt him, and that his physical injuries hadn’t been the worst of it. That he believed it was the only reason Lane pursued me. By then, Lane had fallen for me. He didn’t accept the breakup easily. But by then I saw who he really was. I saw who I really was—a pawn in the game of an older man.
I cried every day for a month. I swore I’d never be so broken again.
Through my tears, I read the next part of Finn’s proposal.
I accept your decision regarding the issue of marriage. A partnership only makes sense if both parties benefit. If you feel the advantages outweigh the risks, then I would be honored to become your husband.
How am I supposed to live with this proposal in my head? How am I supposed to walk around every day knowing that Finn sat down and assessed himself with clear eyes? He offered himself to me in this business-deal format because he knew it would make me laugh. And maybe it was the only way for him to present it to me calmly, without breaking down.
I might break down, too, if I knew I only had seven years left.
Which probably explains the final section—the joint project with the Morelli Fund, benefiting the Dementia Foundation. It involves researching new treatments and preventative strategies.
Such medical innovations may help future generations of Hughes. It’s unlikely that even with help, doctors would find a cure in this generation. Basing a life around the possibility of a cure would be indulging in false hope.
I flip the cover of the proposal closed.
That’s how he thinks about hope. That it’s false. “You don’t know that for sure.”
That’s the argument. He wants all of our choices to be based on the worst-case scenario. I can see the wisdom in that kind of planning for lots of situations.
Not this one.
It would make a wedding feel like a funeral. It would turn every dream into a cruel joke.
I won’t participate in making a joke out of Finn Hughes. I won’t help him lead a sham life while his heart breaks more with every day that passes.
The baby won’t understand Finn’s emotional distance. The baby won’t know that it comes from fear and grief and guilt. Can he overcome those things for our child?
Can he overcome them for me?
“Nobody knows what’s going to happen.” I’m stern with the proposal the way I should have been stern with Finn before. “You can’t make me accept the worst before it’s here. I won’t do it. I want to be happy with you, goddamn it. This baby deserves to be happy. And loved.”
I pick up my phone, thumbs flying over the screen before I can stop myself.
Eva: I’ve reviewed your proposal.
Finn: And?
Eva: You need to get some things straight.
Finn: Like what?
Like the fact that I’m in love with you. Like the fact that I want to drag you into a happy ending, despite your best efforts to end in tragedy. Like the fact that you’re breaking my heart.
My phone rings in my hand.
“What do I need to get straight?” Finn’s voice is guarded. Careful. He sounds as tired as I feel. As heartsick as I feel. And still hopeful, despite what he wrote in the letter.
He doesn’t want to create false hope.
It’s too late. I have every kind of hope, even the false kind.
“Maybe I don’t have time to discuss it,” I say, stalling for time.
“Humor me.”
Humoring Finn Hughes means buying into the idea that he is doomed, the idea that we’re both doomed. The idea that our child is doomed. It’s a cornerstone of his proposal, in fact. One of his risks. He has a limited amount of time, and I don’t want to believe that.
I’ve always been the levelheaded one. I’m the daughter who handles things. Love isn’t something that can be handled. It can’t be boxed off until it fits neatly in the guest wing of the Hughes estate.
His words come back to me.
It’s for the Dementia Foundation.
Finn’s not just clarifying his personal proposal in this pitch deck. He’s suggesting we work together to change things for the child. Even that strikes me as fatalistic. It’s too late for him.
How would I manage this project, this sadness, without any hope for the man I love?
“It’s a great proposal. Perfect. But you’re missing the point. You don’t want the baby.”
“That’s not the important point.”
“That’s the only point.”
The phone rings again. Since I’m already on a call with Finn, it’s just an incessant beeping. I pull it away from my face. Leo’s name is on the screen. Relief fills me, because I don’t want to talk to Finn right now. I can’t. And you know what? He doesn’t deserve an answer right away. If he had gotten down on one knee, then I would have answered him right away. Instead he presented me with a pitch deck. So maybe I’ll respond the same way, with a memo on corporate letterhead.
“My brother’s calling. I have to go.”
“Eva, wait—”
I hang up. Finn can wait until I’m good and ready. I swipe at my eyes and clear my throat while the call connects. I don’t want Leo to know I was crying. “Hey. What’s—”
“It’s happening.” Leo’s voice is shaking. Terse chatter rises in the background. A car door slams. “Haley’s in labor. You have to come. I need you.”
9
EVA
Getting to the hospital involves a flurry of activity.
I summon my driver and notify my security team. The oversized silk blouse and shorts I wore for working on a terrarium won’t work. I quickly change into black slacks, structured but comfortable. A black sleeveless top. And a sweater, tucked over the top of my purse.
I’m not sure how long I’ll be there. I can almost guarantee that I’ll need to step in at some point. If I do—when I do—I’ll look every inch the intimidating Morelli princess.
It’s too early for Haley to be in labor by several weeks.
The date gives me a sick feeling in my stomach, but I push it away.
Babies come early all the time. There is no need to panic. And even if there was a need, I can’t. Not right now. My brother needs me. My sister-in-law needs me. My little niece needs me. I call ahead to the hospital to tell them I’m on my way. A pleasant-sounding woman answers the phone. I let her know that my brother and his wife will be arriving shortly.
It’s a courtesy. Leo can be disruptive at the best of times. From the way he sounded on the phone, it’s not the best of times.
It’s certain to be very tense at the hospital.
It could even be an emergency.
Eva: I’m on my way.
Leo: Ten minutes.
The plan has been in place since early on in Haley’s pregnancy. Of course, everyone’s top priority is keeping her and the baby safe and happy. The fact that it’s all being set into motion earlier than expected won’t change that.