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“You’re sure you want to do both at the same time? I’m okay if you want to go alone.”
His hands tighten on my hips. “No, I want you there.”
“Then I’m there,” I say. “You know that.”
“Yeah. Christ, Summer, there’s going to be crying. My mother’s going to burst into tears.”
I rest my head against his shoulder. “That’s not your fault, Anthony. You’re not responsible for their reaction.”
He gives a low humming sound that makes it clear he disagrees.
“You’re not,” I say. “You didn’t choose this. They’ll be sad for you because they love you and don’t want to see you suffer, but you’re not responsible for the cause of the suffering itself.”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re right.”
I know I am. But the one time I’d met his brother, briefly and over drinks a week ago, I’d seen just how deep the need not to disappoint their elders ran in the Winter family. It led one brother to work himself to ruin and commit to marrying a woman he didn’t love. It had led Anthony to strike out on his own in an effort to compete, and then to hurt his family rather than admit to being diagnosed with permanent vision loss.
I think of my own parents, and their hope that I’d one day move back home and marry a nice man. Perhaps the dentist’s son, as my mom had hinted at a few months ago. But being happy was really their only wish for me.
“If we’re not going to be gone too long, we can leave Ace here,” I say. “He’s fine being on his own for a few hours.”
Anthony shakes his head. “Let’s bring him. I’m already introducing my parents to my girlfriend and telling them about my eyesight. They can handle an inquisitive golden and some fur on the rugs.”
“All right. Ace is coming.”
He nods again, a wealth of emotions in his eyes. Beneath it all is a fear I recognize now, remnants of what he’d told me months ago. Once he tells people, it becomes real. It becomes immediate.
“I ran from this for a long time,” he murmurs. “Running can be a lifesaver when things get difficult.”
I nod. I think it had saved his life for the past two years. “But it’s not a long-term strategy.”
“No, it’s not,” he says. “Isaac will be there too. He already knows.”
“Right. Didn’t your business partners take it well last week, too?”
“Carter told me how sorry he was three separate times. Then he said it would make no difference to the company. Both he and Tristan seem to have caught on to the idea that I can somehow become a blind mastermind behind a computer.”
“If anyone could, it would be you.”
Anthony snorts. “You think too highly of me.”
“Impossible,” I say. “What did St. Clair say?”
“He was just silent. The whole time.”
“He didn’t say a word?” The most aggressive business partner among the four was rarely quiet when he had an opinion to express, and when he did, it seemed it was always in the harshest of terms.
“Not until the end. Then he just shook my hand. Said he was sorry for my loss.”
“Your loss?”
“Yes,” Anthony says with a shrug. “Weird thing is, I think he actually meant it.”
“Huh,” I say. I’ve only met St. Clair twice, but he hadn’t struck me as sympathetic. With some people, you can tell there’s a human beneath the stressed, overworked facade. With Victor, the coldness in his gaze seemed bone-deep.
“Did it feel good afterwards? Telling them?”
“It felt nauseating,” Anthony admits. I don’t think he would have just a few weeks ago. “But it’s done now. They know.”
