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“I know.”
When the meeting ends, we go outside. Hayden and Cato laugh and sprint to their cars, engaging in their weekly race.
We chuckle, and Kieran rubs his eyes. “Of all the things I’ve done in my life, I swear my son takes the cake. I am dead tired.” Still, the pride and love in his voice overshadow the bags under his eyes.
I get in my car and say, “See you at home.”
After a short drive, I park in front of their mansion. Tamara, Kieran and Aurora’s trusted housekeeper, welcomes me inside. In the living room, Aiden is fussing in his father’s arms. Kieran places him down and he crawls to me. I crouch to Aiden. He climbs on my leg and grins, that same self-satisfactory smile his father wears. He’s his mini-me. If I didn’t see my sister carrying him in her belly, I’d say Kieran got a clone of himself.
Kissing sounds announce my sister entered the room and her greedy husband couldn’t pass up the chance to maul her. I hug my sister, who smells like baby powder.
“I missed you.”
It’s strange how we live so close to each other, but I see her maybe once a week if my schedule allows it.
“It’s crazy around the clock.”
Aurora nods, always understanding. Still, the gesture holds something else too: disappointment. I could try harder, prioritize better. Guilt strikes me. Even though Kieran looks like he hasn’t slept for years, he manages to spend time with his family and take care of the business, like the others. It’s not a matter of will but of want.
I shake myself off my zoning out to find Kieran kissing her, saying, “Go write. We’ll take care of Aiden.”
Her entire face radiates, and she rushes up the stairs.
Kieran chuckles, “Only my wife can get this happy from working.”
“You must have rubbed off on her.”
“Shut up.”
We amble toward the couch and sit down with Kieran keeping an eye on Aiden behind us. Toys lie around every corner of the spacious living room. Aiden plays with a robot and a car, slamming them against each other.
“About your birthday?”
“They’re organizing something, right?”
“Yes, and you will act surprised and enjoy the damn night.”
“Fine.”
“Family, Cam.”
“Still, shouldn’t I get to spend the birthday how I want?”
“What? Drinking and fucking?”
“That actually sounds like a good plan.”
“You can do that anytime.”
The silence stretches and he says, “How long are you going to avoid talking about that?”
“I manage just fine.”
“You’re not fine, Cam. Maybe—”
I grit my teeth. “I’m going to kill you if you even allude to thinking my marriage serves any other goal than getting us further.”
“You’re a thick-headed asshole.”
