“But we’ve known each other for practically your whole life.”
“Well…yeah.”
“If you want to pursue custody of Jeuel, we can present a strong, united front to any judge who hears the case, Traditionalist or Progressive.”
Branson studied his face for a long, anxious moment, his green eyes full of confusion and…awe? “You’re serious aboutthis. You’d actually marry me so I can get custody of a brother I’ve never met.”
“Yes.” He clasped Branson’s right hand in his and held them both over his own heart. “I know how important family is to you. It’s the most important thing in the world to me, too. I want to help you. I care about you and your happiness, Bran. So much. I love you.” He’d said those words before, in a different capacity, but today he meant them in all the ways. “I’m in love with you, Branson Cross.”
“Really?” His eyes gleamed with wonder and joy and a little bit of shock. “So, are you proposing out of love or court convenience?”
“Both. And it’s okay if you aren’t sure if you’re in love with me. We care about each other, we get along amazingly well, and most of all? We respect each other.” Tarius’s heart sank. “But I am a lot older than you, so if you’d rather hold out for someone younger?—”
“Hey, stop.” Branson pressed a fingertip to his lips. “I don’t care about the age gap, and I never have. I care about what you say, what you do, and what’s in your heart. You have shown me a big, generous, protective, compassionate heart, Tarius Higgs. I don’t think I know a better person than you.” He removed his finger and replaced them with his lips. A long, gentle press before pulling back. “Can I hold off answering the proposal until after I speak to Jeuel?”
“Of course, absolutely. But I want you to know it’s on the table. I’ll help you fight for him any way I can.”And fight for your happiness, you sweet, sweet man.
Branson nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Now, how about a light lunch?”
“Sure. Maybe that sandwich shop over on Carlson Street?”
“The one with the big dill pickles in a barrel?”
“That’s the one.”
Tarius kissed his boyfriend’s temple. “Sounds perfect.”
Branson was a squirrelly mess walking into Papa’s office on the third floor of a large building that housed multiple businesses and companies. He’d been here dozens of times, usually to see Papa at work, or to drop something off from Dad, like a hot lunch. Papa was an exceptional defense lawyer, and like many men dedicated to their jobs, he forgot to eat. His partner, Morris Danvers, was apparently susceptible to the same thing, and Tarius had told him more than one story about making both alphas eat.
Today, he was stepping off the elevator and striding into Papa’s private office at the end of a long corridor, not necessarily as a client, but most definitely not as a visitor. He was here to speak to a long-lost relative and hear his story.
He and Tarius had stopped for sandwiches on the way, and Branson had barely stomached a simple turkey and gouda on rye bread. But he’d forced himself to eat it, so his hands weren’t shaking from hunger. And the fuel would help him concentrate.
He hoped.
Papa was already there, his computer screen blue with a telecom logo on it, the phone nearby. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Right on time, boys. How are you doing, Branson?”
I’m about to talk to a brother I never knew existed, and oh yeah, my boyfriend proposed an hour ago.
Branson was still having trouble wrapping his brain around that—even though it truly shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did. Tarius was selfless and kind, and of course, he’d do anything to help Branson succeed in his goals. Branson just used toimagine his first proposal was a lot more romantic and far less altruistic.
He also wasn’t sure how to answer Papa’s question. “Numb. I don’t know how to feel right now.”
“You don’t have to know,” Tarius said before Papa could. “One step at a time, remember? Do you want me here during the call?”
“For the start.” He looked at Tarius then Papa. “If things get personal or emotional, I’ll probably ask you both to leave. Sorry.”
“No, you two are entitled to privacy. This is about you, not us.”
“Thank you. Do I look okay? Do I have rye seeds in my teeth?”
“You’re adorable, and you look fine. Just be yourself, Branson. You’re a pretty great guy.”
“Okay.” Branson adored his boyfriend for being endlessly supportive during all of this. It was hard to believe that twenty-four-hours ago, he was still planning for the Gala, and now he was here. About to meet a brand-new half-brother. “Let’s make the call.”
“All right.” Papa circled to sit in his desk chair and picked up the phone’s handset. Branson hovered nearby, unsure what to do or where to go yet. The phone rang several times, and then the blue computer screen flashed once. Focused on a middle-aged man in a suit, with grayish-brown hair and silver-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Paxton.”
