He’s in the den, fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop.
“Hem.”
He glances up at me. “Hey.” More typing. He pulls the laptop off the coffee table and into his lap. “I heard you rush out of here last night. What was that about?”
“I went to be with Eva.” It’s a relief to sit down on the couch across from him. Less of a relief to be hovering at the margins of this conversation. “Her niece was born.”
“Is she okay?” Hem peers at me over the screen.
“She was a bit early, from what I can tell. It was tense for a while.”
“But she’s good now?”
“Yeah. Ten fingers, ten toes.”
Hemingway makes a short sound of agreement and types some more.
God, I hate this. I hate it almost as much as being apart from Eva. Dragging my feet won’t make it any easier. There’s a lot of hard shit for someone who used to live for pleasure. Was it a hollow sort of pleasure? Sure, but it was better than pain. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
My brother groans, his hands going still. “Please, for the love of Christ, let it not be more safe sex talk.”
“Oh, it is.”
He flips the laptop shut. “Are you serious? I know about condoms, Finn. We’ve been over this. And over this. I’m going to wrap myself in twenty-seven rubbers and an umbrella before I have sex.”
“It’s not about condoms, specifically. It is about babies, though.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
I glare at him. “Language.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Fine.” I hold up both hands. “Listen. Eva’s pregnant.”
Hemingway cocks his head to the side. “What?”
“She’s pregnant.”
“Eva Morelli?”
“Yes.”
“Did she… cheat on you?”
My heart squeezes again. “She’s pregnant with my baby.”
Hemingway lets out a breath. He looks down at the floor for several beats, then back up at me. “Holy shit. I don’t even know what to say. Are you…angry about it?”
“I’m not angry, but I’m not fine either.” It’s not my best moment, gritting my teeth to stop my emotions from pouring out all over my little brother. It’s useless. They’re already here. I never wanted this. I was trying to spare a future child my fate, and it’s happening anyway. “If I had to nail down a single overriding emotion, I guess I’d say I’m fucking terrified.”
“Language.”
“I didn’t use a condom.”
There’s no judgment in his brown eyes. They remind me of our father’s. “Why?”
“Because I lose my head when I’m around her.”
“Do you love her?”
I love her, which is why I have to get her away from me. It’s what I’ve done my whole life—kept my distance so that I don’t hurt anyone when I become a husk of a human. “Yes.”
Hemingway clasps his hands in front of him. “I’m scared, too.”
My voice is hoarse. “Of what?”
“Of becoming like Dad. Obviously. That shit is scary. It’s not good no matter how you look at it.”
I’m completely out of my depth here. Never once in my life did I think I’d have to parent Hemingway about the impending birth of my child. But all the fatalistic shit I’m used to saying sticks in my throat. “According to Dad, we have some hope as long as we’re still alive.”
“I’m also afraid of becoming like you.”
“Ouch.”
“You seem so happy on the outside. Everyone believes it, but I know better.”
“I know how hypocritical this is. I’m the one who’s been drilling it into your head to use a condom, to hold yourself back. I’m the one who fucked this up.”
Hemingway leans heavily against the back of the couch and stares out the window. He’s within his rights to be pissed at me. For years, if he wants. Forever.
But when he speaks, his tone is thoughtful. “It’s not that I didn’t see your point. About not getting married and not having kids. About not carrying on the Hughes curse.”
He meets my eyes without flinching.
In a blink, he’s grown up. That’s how it feels. Hemingway has seemed like a kid to me all his life, but he’s growing up. Time passes without my permission. “But?”
He shrugs. “But it was more because I looked up to you, not because it was what I wanted. Secretly, I’ve always wanted it. The house with the picket fence. The two point five kids.”
“Hemingway.”
“The thing is, Finn, I’m not selfless like you.” He cracks a smile that cuts to the quick. “I’m selfish. I want a family, even if it ends badly.”
This is what Dad was talking about. This.
Hope blazes in Hemingway’s eyes. He might have moved home only recently, but he’s seen the things that influenced my decision. My younger brother is refusing to give up.
“I want you to have those things, too.”
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one who’s been selfish. I’ve been fucking miserly with happiness and hope, always holding it up in front of Hemingway and saying, you can never have this. Ever. It was decided before you were born.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been telling myself.
He’s skeptical. “Eva got pregnant, so you changed your mind about everything?”
“Not about everything, but I want you to be happy. I’ve always wanted that.”
“Yeah, but I always knew how you defined happiness. The parties and the yachts and fucking random people. I want what you have with Eva. A family.”
The family I got in spite of what a bastard I’ve been. She thinks I don’t want the baby. She thinks I don’t want her, but the truth is, I want them too much. Who am I to sit here and tell Hemingway whether to have children? What gave me the right? “I’m sorry I ever tried to convince you otherwise.”
Hemingway peers at me. “So are you happy? Or are you freaking out?”
“I’m…” I can’t say happy. “I know what’s coming for me.”
He’s silent, watching me. “Do you, though?”
A laugh escapes. “That’s the curse, Hem. There’s no way it can ever be broken. It’s coming for me. And no matter how much I hate it, it’s coming for you. The only thing we get to decide is what we do in the few years we have left.”
“You could be wrong, you know.”
I sigh. “Hem.”
“I’m serious. I know how smart you are. How you brought Hughes Industries to new heights. How you manage a million different things to keep the secret in the age of social media. I know you’re smart, but Finn, you’re so freaking stupid sometimes.”
“No, no. Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.”
“Because no matter how smart you are, you can’t tell the future. No one can.”
We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one. I know the future, because I can read the past. It’s like watching a row of dominoes fall, one by one. You know what’s going to happen to the last domino.