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But Nathan was unaffected. He nodded, amending with, “Fair. I guess it would be more accurate to say that I’ve heard more about you than any other person in Ciara’s life, save for her dad.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Hmm.”
“Here, let me get your bag,” I interrupted, just to stop Nathan from responding. I sensed that Nathan would make it his mission to win her over because she was my best friend, and Brooklyn would fight just as hard to not be won, for the same reason.
“I don’t know; seems like Nathan should do that,” Brooklyn said, holding her bag away from me. “Considering he’s the strongest of the three of us. Wouldn’t you agree, Nathan?”
I sighed; this was going to be a long car ride.
Unfortunately, I was right about the long car ride. And for some strange reason, Nathan continued the torture by insisting he take us out to lunch in the city, his treat.
I wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and wait until it was all over.
When we arrived and were seated at the restaurant—a Thai-food place that looked like it cost more to eat there than what I paid in utility bills—Brooklyn continued the inquisition.
“So,” she said, “I hear you run your own company. What kind of company is it? Is it for-profit?”
“It’s a non-profit actually.” Nathan took a sip of water, leaning back and casually putting his arm on the back of my chair. “I started a company that seeks to resolve the disparity in STEM jobs for Black and brown people. We specifically run programs in schools for Black and brown girls interested in the field.”
Brooklyn tilted her head. “Black girls?” Brooklyn asked. “But Black women are the most educated group of people in the United States.”
“Sure,” Nathan readily agreed, “but when it comes to STEM fields, there is far less female representation. And when you look at the population of Black women, it’s even less. So my focus is there.”
“I see.” Brooklyn picked up her menu, scanning it—though I doubt she even read it. She was too intent on poking holes in Nathan’s personality, interest in me, anything really. “What made you start a non-profit?”
“Well, it all started with my mom, really.” I looked up at him, my interest piqued. He smiled at me as he continued. “She always wanted to be an engineer, but back then, you didn’t see very many female engineers. Her parents wanted her to oversee the family estate because she was the firstborn and had a heart for leadership, so she put her dreams on the shelf. By the time she reached a point where she could delegate and have time to pursue her passion, she already had five kids. So she shelved her dreams indefinitely.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “That must have been so hard for her.”
“It was. But I promised myself I would honor her sacrifice, along with doing something I loved—providing resources to kids who didn’t grow up with the ones I had.”
“You have any kids, Nathan?” Brooklyn asked.
I choked on air. “Brooklyn!”
“What?” She looked at me, the picture of innocence. “It’s a fair question, given how quickly you two are getting married. We might as well lay out all the cards, right? And if he does have any children, it’s better to know now than find out later.”
Nathan shrugged, adding, “She’s right. Better to know upfront than find out down the road.”
I stared at him in horror.
Meeting my eyes with a twinkle in his, he then turned to Brooklyn. “No on the kids,” he said, “though I hope to have them someday with Ciara. I come from a big family, and I would love to continue the tradition. Besides,” he added, dropping his arm to reach for my hand, “I think it would be nice to see little Nathans and Ciaras running around.” He winked at me.
My face heated up, and I fought not to cover it. Though I knew he was playing it up for Brooklyn, I couldn’t help but wonder what that would be like, having kids with Nathan. Would he be a playful dad, chasing our kids in the yard, throwing them in the air as they screamed and giggled? Or would he be the type of dad who doled out stern advice about finances? Or would he be loving and doting?
And what would the sex be like as we tried to have kids?
I turned my attention back to the conversation to stop my wayward thoughts.
“That would be nice; Ciara doesn’t come from a big family, as you know,” Brooklyn was saying. Though she sounded neutral, even pleasant, I knew better. This was her trap voice—lull the person into a false sense of security, and then hit them with the hard questions.
It didn’t take long. “And it would be convenient, wouldn’t it?” she asked. “To make sure the Hemingway line doesn’t die out? I’m sure your family wants her to pump out little boys—little Nathans, as you said—to ensure that, right?”
For the first time, Nathan showed signs of strain. His eyes narrowed, and a little muscle in his jaw ticked. Still, he answered diplomatically.
“Sure, having a lot of kids, especially boy children, ensures the sustainability of the family line,” he agreed. “But that’s not why I want to have kids with Ciara. She’s not a breeding factory; she’s the woman I’m in love with.”
I squeezed his hand, lacing my fingers through his. Brooklyn was being harsh, even for her, but I didn’t know how to stop her. When she got into these kinds of moods, she was a fast-moving train with a faulty break. Anyone in her path would do better to just get out of her way.
