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Perry
Present Day
On a Tuesday much like any other, Perry entered the medical office of his brother-in-law, Dr. Everard Drake, and made peace with the idea that, no matter the outcome, he would leave with a broken heart.
“Hello, Silvia,” he said to the pretty Attendant seated behind the front desk. She was Everard’s secretary, and had been for many years. There were a few more streaks of silver in her hair than there had been the last time their paths had crossed, but the kindness in her eyes remained unchanged. “Could it be that you look even prettier than the last time I saw you? I thought such a feat impossible, yet here you sit, more radiant than ever.”
Silvia blushed. “I am trying a new lip color.”
“Is that it?” Perry dimpled. “It suits you.”
“Thank you. I’ll let Dr. Drake know you’re here.”
Perry inclined his head in thanks, then sat in one of the room’s comfortable waiting chairs. Everard would not be long. Until he appeared, Perry occupied himself with surveying the offerings left upon the nearby coffee table. At one point, there had only been magazines—Time, Sports Illustrated, and Better Homes & Gardens—but recently, a few well-loved comics, coloring books, and crayons had been added to the mix. With as many children as there were between the Drake brothers, it only made sense. If it weren’t for Harrison, who’d offered to look after the boys this morning, Perry’s own brood would be clamoring for their favorite titles. The children had much to learn about patience, but they were only eight, the dears. It would come with time.
“Perry,” Everard said from a short distance away, stirring Perry from his thoughts. He lifted his gaze from the literature and regarded his brother-in-law, who wore a respectable button-down shirt and a smart pair of gray slacks.
“Everard.” Perry rose and offered Everard a tired smile. “You look well.”
“As do you. Glowing, as always.”
“Which is a problem, isn’t it?” The hitch in his voice was embarrassing, so to save face, Perry lifted his chin and fought to maintain his smile. “Are you ready to see me?”
Some of the easy charm slipped from Everard’s face. He nodded.
“Then what are we waiting for, darling?” Perry slipped his hand into Everard’s and squeezed. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Perry did not mind needles. The pain was never unreasonable, and the sight of his own blood didn’t bother him. What a world of trouble he would have been in had that been the case. In fact, compared to leeches that pinched, pulsed, slithered, and oftentimes refused to latch, being stuck with a needle was almost enjoyable.
What he did mind was the uneasy quiet that came after a blood draw while Everard’s in-house laboratory processed the results. Modern medicine was a godsend, but it was not instantaneous. As such, after Everard’s examination, Perry returned to the waiting room and flipped through a copy of Better Homes & Gardens. Then another. And a third. He was on his ninth title when Silvia came to see him. The click of her kitten heels announced her arrival.
“Mr. Drake?” she said. “Dr. Drake will see you now. If you’ll follow me, I’ll bring you to him.”
Perry’s throat constricted, but he rewarded Silvia with his prettiest smile all the same. “Thank you, darling.”
“Any time.” Silvia smiled back. “Are you ready?”
Perry wasn’t, but he eased out of his chair and allowed Silvia to direct him into Everard’s private office.
Everard was seated at his desk when Perry arrived, his arms folded on the polished oak surface. Its design hearkened back to a simpler time, and seeing Everard positioned behind it reminded Perry of the hundred other times he’d been to visit Everard in offices of yore.
“Mr. Drake, sir,” Silvia announced. “Um, Mr. Peregrine Drake. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
“Thank you, Silvia,” Everard replied. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk, in which Perry didn’t hesitate to sit. He folded his hands on his lap and straightened his posture, then made note of the way the sunlight was coming in through the window and tilted his head so the light would best catch in his eyes and dramatize his angles—an old habit from years in the Pedigree, and one that, even half a millennium later, he was unable to shake.
When Silvia was gone and the door was closed, Everard produced a file folder from a drawer in his desk and laid it upon the empty space between them, but left it closed. “The results.”
“I would hope, given your request for me to join you.” Perry glanced at the folder, then back up at Everard, whose expression was unreadable. It was always the way he looked when the worst had come to pass. At the sight of him like that, Perry’s confidence wobbled, and so too did his bottom lip. It was terribly unbecoming, but there was no way he could help it. Not now. Not with the prospect of another loss laid so clinically in ink before him. Perry couldn’t bear to look. “What is the verdict?”
Everard pinched his lips as if to speak, then shook his head and glanced out the window, beyond which Aurora bustled with the endlessness of everyday life. “You don’t want to look?”
“I want you to tell me.” Perry closed one of his hands around the other, squeezing it tight. “Please, Everard.”
The unreadable look on Everard’s face deteriorated, and at last, he frowned. Sympathy softened his eyes as he slid the folder off the table and slotted it back into the drawer. Silence, punctuated by the ticking of a clock, slid in to fill the space their conversation had left. It seemed to tick forever before Everard met Perry’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Perry,” he said. “You’re pregnant.”
