Page 72 of Bound Hearts

I crack a grin. “Nah, it’ll be fine. He’s having a few of his friends over, my brother, a simple afternoon party with food. We cruise in, say hello, stay for a little bit, then cruise on out.”

Sutton narrows her eyes, and her lips quirk to the side as she doubts my theory. “Hmm, okay. I’ll follow your lead. We need to get him a gift.”

I sputter a laugh. “Trust me, having his grandchild is the gift that keeps on giving.” At first, I say this because he is genuinely excited to become a grandfather. But then, my perspective shifts: another truth keeps casting its shadow, the truth where, by chance, the baby just saved a company.

“Still, we should go gift shopping after lunch. We should try that place back two blocks that we saw, Greek food sounds yummy right now.”

“Sure. I’ll have the driver pick up the bags first.”

After paying for the items, I add the bag to the rest I’m carrying. The swoosh of warm air hits us as soon as we leave the air-conditioned store. The weather is perfect, with crystal-blue skies and low humidity, and you would have no clue that the end of summer is approaching.

Except it is.

And with summer ending, the day we'll meet our son grows nearer.

I’m very curious what Sutton is talking to my father about in the corner of his library, as people flow in and out of the rooms on the main floor. My father’s idea of a small party must have been misinterpreted somewhere because this is by no means small. Someone is playing a piano in the living room, and waiters weave between guests to offer hors d’oeuvres. With a club soda in my hand, I observe as Sutton smiles and he laughs. Anyone can see that she’s pregnant because her blush-pink summer dress clings to her form, and the sparkling ring on her finger highlights that she’s married.

I’ve handled the crowd with precision. We came in half an hour ago for appearances' sake, talked a bit with my dad. Sutton asked for a moment with him, and I’ve been saying thank-yous to whoever congratulated me, careful to stave off any in-depth conversations.

Taking a sip, I sense my brother approaching. In the corner of my eye, I can already see his sly smirk.

The last few weeks, I have avoided Patrick, plain and simple. Some siblings never grow up close. That’s us. I sure as hell don’t want to hear him make a snide remark. Any congratulations he offers will not be sincere.

He slows his pace before he stops and stands by my side, a strong scotch in his hand. That’s the tough spot that my moral conscience sometimes gets thrown into. He’s here in a blazer, a crisp button-up shirt, and he works the room talking to people, always with a smile and talking points for both personal and business-related conversations. Part of me actually believes sometimes that he enjoys working for the family company and actually wants to succeed in his role. Then I feel bad when I think less of him.

“I’ll be damned,” he voices more to himself than us, awe laced in his tone. “Dad said you had news to share in your own time.”

I turn to see that his gaze is zoned in on my wife and our dad across the room. Patrick’s cunning smirk turns into satisfaction.

“Sutton and I are married, and we’re having a baby. We eloped just the two of us,” I state the obvious.

“I can see that.” He slaps his hand on my shoulder. “You really went for it. I should go welcome her to the family.”

“Another time. We’re going once she and Dad are done talking.” My sight returns to them, and they are still in a hushed animated conversation.

“This is big news, little brother. Very big news. What came first, the baby or the marriage?” he jokes unnecessarily.

My face hardens, and my eyes arrow into my brother, unsure of what he’ll say next. He’s not exactly going to be uncle-of-the-year material.

“Whatever is in your fucking head, get it out. This is unexpected, but we’re happy.” My tolerance is already up.

“Touchy,” he replies. “Good thing Uncle David isn’t here yet. I want to be around when he realizes his business plans just died behind a fucking barn.”

I bring my fingers to pinch the bridge of my nose, tolerance level zapping away. “Can we not have a normal birthday for Dad?”

Patrick sighs and seems to gather understanding. “Fine.”

Our attention is brought to Sutton who walks toward us, her smile polite and her radiance more beautiful by the day. Pregnancy suits her.

She arrives and allows me to wrap my arm around her from the side. “All okay with my dad?”

“Perfect,” she replies proudly as though she accomplished a secret mission.

“Congratulations,” my brother says with a smile.

She touches her belly with her smile growing. “Thank you. We’re excited.”

He takes a sip from his glass. “You should be, carrying special family goods and all.” As much as that should have felt like a jab, I surprisingly didn’t hear any venom in his voice. “You’re giving my dad the gift of the century on his birthday.” That one was a little more unreadable in tone, especially as he winks at me.