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NATHAN
When I kissed Ciara, something shifted in me.
It wasn’t tangible. I couldn’t touch it. But when we stopped, she looked at me differently. She joked differently.
I got lost in thought on my way to my parents’ house, trying to pinpoint the feeling. I was used to feeling happiness, anger, sadness, lust, even confusion, but this…this was different. I was effused with warmth that spread from my chest throughout my whole body, combined with the visceral reaction to her breasts pressed against my chest, her nipples pebbling in response to the ministrations of my tongue, her soft sounds, and clutching hands.
Lust. I was feeling lust. That had to be it, right?
But it felt like more.
I frowned as I continued to try to decipher it. It was a concoction of lust, happiness, and a hint of satisfaction, only one of which made any sense to me. Why would I feel satisfied? I hadn’t done anything right or successfully since I’d proposed to Ciara.
Except maybe this kiss.
I pulled into my dad’s driveway, no closer to understanding what was going on with me than I was when I left Ciara’s. Getting out of the car, I put my troubling feelings in a box in my mind, shoving it to the back. In the end, it wouldn’t matter what I felt. I just needed to make sure our marriage was a success. Bonus points if Ciara and I met other more…physical needs.
“Nathan,” my dad said as he opened the door. We embraced. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Yeah, well, I was in town,” I said. “Just dropped off Ciara. How are you?”
We walked back to his study, and he shut the door behind us. “I’m making it, day by day,” he said, sighing as he dropped into a chair. “The hospital keeps me busy. How’s Ciara?”
“She’s fine.” I rubbed my hand over my head. “Her best friend, Brooklyn, is in town, and she had to tell her about our engagement ad hoc. She also lost her job recently, so she’s still struggling with that aspect of things.”
“Yeah, her father was telling me.” Dad leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “Listen, son, have you properly vetted this young lady? I don’t want you getting caught up in the moment without doing your research.”
I reared back, instantly offended. “Dad!” I exclaimed. “Ciara is not just some woman I gotcaught up in the momentwith. She’s got her head on straight. And besides that, I fell in love with her—”
“Now I know you think you’re in love with her, and I hope, for your sake that you are,” Dad interrupted. “We—I—want that for all you kids. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t do your due diligence. When your mom and I started dating in high school, her family vetted me, even though I was also coming from money. We fell in love, got married,and stillhad a prenup. Hemingway wealth started and still funds this town, and we need to protect it. It could all fall apart with one faulty decision; you know this.”
I snapped my back straight, remembering who I was talking to. Though my parents always engaged in PDA around me and my siblings, and they always showed us love, there was an undercurrent of protecting our family’s assets when it came to “outside” people. Mom lauded the importance of shelving feelings to reach our goals, and Dad also played things close to the chest. As a surgeon, he had to be decisive and steady, relying on years of training instead of feelings in the moment. Both he and Mom taught all of us kids to do the same. Year after year, Mom drilled information about the family business into me, to the point where it became second nature.
Still, while I understood Dad’s concerns about Ciara, the part of me that wanted to continue to enjoy the feeling I couldn’t name was angry with his rational, non-romantic assessment.
“I do know this,” I returned evenly, “which is why I know that Ciara’s not a threat to the estate. The papers have been signed, all our I’s dotted and T’s crossed. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Good.” He sat back, a little more relaxed. “Because you know Zeke is going around telling everyone that your engagement is a hoax, right? Have you prepared Ciara for the potential issues with him?”
“I did warn her that she might be in the spotlight more than she’s used to because she’s becoming a Hemingway,” I said. “She’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Dad shook his head. “That boy Zeke is gonna be the downfall of this whole family. He brings drama down on everyone. And you know how people talk.”
We shared a look. Though our family always seemed to be the talk of the town for one reason or another, we—I—didn’t need any more scrutiny. Nor did I want it, considering the predicament I was in with my new marriage.
We stood up at the same time, and he came around the desk to embrace me. “It really is good to see you, son. You don’t come around here often, so it’s a treat. Now if your siblings would only follow suit and be hereless.”
I laughed as he pulled away. “What, are they eating all your pastries again?” I teased. Our longtime neighbor, Mrs. Nolan, made some of the best cheese Danishes I’d ever tasted. She baked them for every holiday and for each of our birthdays. She made some for my mom’s passing and must have given Dad extra to hold him over.
“Little mongrels,” Dad groused. “Can’t have anything in this damn house. All of you are supposed to be grown! Why are my pastries still disappearing as if all five of you are still living here?”
I smirked. “I’ll tell them to leave your pastries alone, Dad.”
He huffed. “Good.”
We walked to the study door, then to the front door. As we opened it, John flew in, grinning at both of us.
“Ayeee, it’s Big Bro!” he said. We embraced. “Good to see you. What’s the occasion?”
