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“No,” he said.
“Why?”
He looked at her. “I prize my privacy. I learned that from my grandfather. That a man must protect the space around him, if he is going to work hard, he must hold space.”
“Does your father do anything with your family business?”
“No.”
He led the way, off the boat, but he did not stop to put on a shirt. Or shoes. He was barefoot, walking up the sandy trail that cut through all those trees, and leading them up toward the house.
He seemed so different here. Relaxed. At home.
“It has all been my responsibility since the death of my grandfather. But he groomed me for this.”
“Does it frustrate you?”
His eyes went blank for a moment. “My parents are lovely people. Much in the same way my brother is a lovely person. Was. Gregarious and fun, and not always reliable in the ways that one might like.”
“Right,” she said softly.
“I learned at a very early age that it was up to me. That I could not count on anyone but myself. Somebody had to take hold of the family fortune. Somebody had to take hold of the family business. It was me. I do not resent that lot in life. There are... There are people who shine brighter, but they do burn out quicker.”
She looked at him, at the dark fire that was banked in his eyes. Did he not know that he shone brightly all on his own? He did. He was brilliant.
And yet, she had a feeling if she said that he would reject it. Ignore it. Perhaps even deny it.
“I never had anyone counting on me. Not really. My mother told me that my existence had already failed her. Everything I’ve ever done has been for me. I don’t know what it’s like to live for someone else.” She put her hand on her stomach. “I wonder if that makes me inherently selfish.”
“I see no evidence of your selfishness.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen any evidence of my selflessness either.”
He shrugged. “No. But then... You are here.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I married you.”
“I was going to keep the baby myself. I didn’t want you to resent them. Because I know what that’s like. That is the most important thing to me, Constantine. That you... That you find it in yourself to love them. Please. Because I know what it’s like to be raised by a mother who doesn’t love me.”
He nodded slowly. “My parents love me very much. And even still, they have done a considerable amount of damage.”
“Then I beg you, I beg you to ask yourself what a lack of love might do.” She looked at him, beseeching, because she really needed him to understand this. She needed him to know. “Without love, it doesn’t mean anything. None of it does. My mother... She was so cold to me. And when I moved out... It was like she was just finished. Done with me. She hasn’t spoken to me since. I’ve gotten in touch with her, and we had a couple of awkward phone calls. But she’s never reached out. There’s this... Detachment there, and it is brutal. And all I’ve ever wanted...” Suddenly, tears sprang to her eyes, and she felt ashamed. “All I’ve ever wanted is for someone to care for me. It is to have people in my life that I cared for. These babies...” And for the first time she felt it. For the first time, she felt her heart swell with love. Felt her chest expand with a deep desire to have these children. With the knowledge that she needed them. That she needed this.
“They will be my chance. My chance to... They’re my family. And it is so important to me that you... I do not want you to be like my mother. Not to them. Not to these children. They didn’t ask for this, Constantine. They didn’t. They didn’t ask for me, a girl who’s never been loved by anybody. And they didn’t ask for...”
“For me?” he asked, working a brow. “No, you’re right. They did not ask for a brick wall as a father.”
“I didn’t mean that. I just mean whatever your baggage, and whatever mine, it is not their fault we carry it.”
“You are correct, of course. And I would never want to pass on my particular trauma to anyone, let alone my own children. But that is why I didn’t wish to have them.”
“I wish that I understood a little bit better. Because we have to do this. Because we’re in this together...”
“I told you I was a twin,” he said, his voice hard. “Not identical. Fraternal. My sister, Athena... When we were eight years old we were on a beach. My mother was there, and my father. And a nanny, who was chasing Alex around. But not us. My parents were drinking. Partying with friends. It was their favorite sort of vacation, the kind that they were on just before they came to our wedding, in fact. Athena and I were kidnapped. Taken by some of my grandfather’s enemies.”
She stopped walking. “You what?”
