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The waitress came by the table to remove their plates, then left a tiny folder with the check.
Michael didn’t reach for it. “Look,” he said quietly, “I’m not going to say I know what it’s like to be in your position.”
“Lucky you.”
“You have a choice, Nick, about—”
“You think there’s a choice here?” Nick almost couldn’t speak through the sudden rage in his throat. “You think I would choose this?”
“Calm down. I’m trying to talk to you.”
Nick could barely keep his voice level. He’d been ready for anger and disappointment, but he hadn’t expected closed-mindedness. He shoved out of the booth. “Fuck you, Michael.
I don’t want to talk to you.”
Michael grabbed his wrist. His voice was low and equally angry. “Damn it, Nick, grow up. There’s a time limit here. If Quinn is pregnant, you need to get your shit together and talk to someone.”
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Nick turned around, his eyes wide. “You think Quinn is pregnant?”
Michael stared back at him. “She’s not?”
“No. She’s not.” Nick sat back down.
Michael blew out a long breath. “Thank god. That—I just—
wow.”
“Crisis averted, right?” Nick could barely keep the bitterness out of his voice. Of course Michael hadn’t guessed right.
“Something like that.” Michael pulled a credit card out of his wallet and slid it into the folder.
Nick couldn’t stop the disappointment tightening his chest.
As much as he’d hated thinking Michael would be such an idiot as to believe sexuality was a choice, there’d been a measure of relief in not having to tell him.
Now they were back to square one. And they were leaving. In half an hour, he’d be at home, feeling more alone than ever.
The waitress took the leather folder and zipped away.
And Michael just seemed relieved. Quinn wasn’t pregnant, nothing else could be wrong. Reliable Nick always had a handle on everything, and wasn’t an unplanned pregnancy like the worst thing he could possibly face?
Nick didn’t want to look at his brother anymore. Being wrong wasn’t Michael’s fault—but it felt like it. “Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice quiet.
el winced. “Look, we’ll be okay through the winter.
Mom and Dad had life insurance, and there’s not a lot left, but there’s some. I try not to touch it, because I never know when we’ll have a real emergency, but it’s more than enough to fill in the cracks. Besides, Dad always said to have three months in savings as a reserve, so I’ve got that, too.”
Nick stared at him.
“What?” said Michael.
“Nothing.” Nick rubbed at the back of his neck. For months, he’d worried about the finances, had felt a personal obligation to make sure the business brought in as much cash as possible.
