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“Haley wants to write stories. She has no interest in my business.”
“Who said I had any interest in it?”
“Please. You love giving endowments to God knows who.”
“You would know who if you bothered to read my quarterly reports.”
“I do read them, sister mine. Which is how I know you can read a balance sheet and manage a high-stakes project better than anyone on my payroll.”
This is an old argument. I’ve done work for Leo, before the foundation was up and running. And I was fine with inheriting Leo’s business when he wasn’t married. It’s more than inheritance. I would be the acting CEO. It would have been an extension of my work for the family. But now that he’s married, he has his own beautiful family. His own heirs. “How’s Haley? I haven’t texted her in a few days.”
“Tired.” For a split second, worry crosses his face. Then it’s gone, as if he slipped it into his pocket like a wallet. Out of sight. “Uncomfortable. And she still has two months to go.”
“You never got back to me about the menu.”
“That’s because her taste changes every single day. Yesterday she wanted peaches. Only peaches. God forgive the chef who tried to give her a peach and blueberry cobbler. You would have thought blueberries were poison.”
“Then it’s all the more important that I have a list of what she likes to eat.”
“Then I get a text on the way here.” He pulls out his phone, because my brother isn’t above a little theater. He reads off the screen. “What’s that thing with the melty cheese? This was before seven a.m. So I ask if she means fondue, which I thought was a reasonable guess.”
I nod, unable to hold back my smile. “Of course it was.”
“No, she says. The one with the melted cheese on top. So I tell her Croque Monsieur. Rarebit. French onion soup. I must have named fifty things with melted cheese on top.”
“Was it nachos?”
“How the hell did you figure it out?”
“Sympathy hormones,” I say with a light laugh. “I’m just thinking about what I’d want if I were super pregnant. And I can probably serve nachos at the baby shower.”
“Don’t bother. I had the executive chef of Merida make her something for lunch.”
“The man has Michelin stars, Leo.”
“And he was happy to make a pregnant woman something she craved. He was especially happy when he saw the generous investment I made in his restaurant.”
My brother’s love for his wife is over the top, which is beautiful to watch. Terrifying to experience. Risky. Dangerous, when you’re a teenage girl caught in a game with a much older man. I shake away my past. “You’re taking good care of her.”
He looks pensive. “I hope so.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
He gives me a pointed look. “I heard you went out with Finn Hughes last night.”
“Mom exaggerates. You know that.”
“I didn’t hear it from Mom. I heard it from a friend. Someone who was in an underground casino, who thought he saw my sister. No, I told him. My sister would never go to an illegal club that got raided by the police.”
My cheeks heat. “Don’t freak out,” I say, echoing Lizzy’s words.
He gives me a dire expression. “Eva.”
“Finn and I hung out. It was no big deal. Really.”
“He’s a player.”
“You think I don’t know that? He’s a good time. I’m not expecting anything different. But you should know something. We might be…pretend dating.”
