Sighing, I said, “Depends on the day.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed, circling the front yard as if we’d not put on a big enough show.
Turning to follow his steps, I told him, “Hayden, I don’t give a fuck about the money.”
He stopped, his hands on his waist, and his head dropped back to stare at the sky. When he spoke, the defeated tone brought tears to my eyes.
“Says someone who has always had it. Who has never been ridiculed for not having it or been discriminated against for being the poor, brown kid.”
I hated people. Given the comment about being the ‘poor, brown kid,’ I’d guess it was kids, but I could be wrong. Plus, those kids learned that shit from someone. People shouldn’t be treated one way if they had money and a different way if they didn’t. Same with race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, and so many other things. The old adage about treating people how you wanted to be treated needed to be more widely practiced.
I stepped toward him, but he moved away from me. Rolling my lips into my mouth to hold off tears, I shoved my hand in my pockets. I watched him, and the defeated, beat-down slope of his shoulder made me want to comfort him. But I knew there was no way in hell he would accept it. So, I offered, “I’ll give it away. Every fucking dime. Hell, I’ll give it to you…”
“I don’t want your motherfucking money.”
“I’ll give it to you, and you can pick a charity.”
“This never made sense.”
“What?”
Please, God, don’t go there, Papi.
“This,” he said, pointing between the two of us, “us, we never made sense.”
“Hayden…”
“Two tops don’t make sense. Even if they are both vers and one has a submissive streak. It just never made any fucking sense. We’re deluding ourselves.”
My heart raced, making my blood hum in my veins, and the ringing in my ears reminded me of a hummingbird. I wanted to grab him and shake some sense into him. Instead, I curled my fingers into my palms, clenching them to feel the bite of my nails.
Hoping he’d see reason, I said, “But we aren’t, Hayden. We’re not deluding ourselves. I love you. You love me. You can’t deny it.”
“Yeah, well, evidently, I’m a fucking idiot.
“Hayden, you are one of the smartest men I’ve ever met. You’re so fucking smart, and bright, and loving.”
He scoffed, huffing a laugh through his nose. “This morning, I would’ve said the same about you, but then I get to work, and a guy I’ve never met before, a junior officer that’s so clueless he’s going to get his head shot off, or someone else’s, asked me how I knew Walker, then pointed out all y’all are rich as fuck. A junior officer I’d never met was more honest with me than my own fucking husband.”
“Say the word, and I’ll walk away from the money. I’ll donate every penny. You’re what matters to me. The way I feel about you and how you make me feel about myself, that’s what’s important to me. Whatever questions you have, I’ll answer. We can walk inside, and you can ask the rest of the family anything you wanna know. I’ll get my Uncle Lucas on the phone. He’s the attorney for the family trust. He’s asked to speak with you several times.”
“Why the fuck would he wanna speak with me?”
Dread the likes of which I’ve never felt whipped through me like icy winter wind.
“Because you’re a member of the family.”
His eyes, usually so warm, turned cold and hard. His nostrils flared, and his fists balled. If ever there was a time I thought Hayden could hurt me, it would’ve been this moment. I knew he wouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop the flinch the sight of all that rage caused.
“Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
“We married without a prenup. It’s a stipulation in trust. All spouses are considered beneficiaries unless there’s a prenuptial agreement in place prior to the wedding. Same with children. They’re added to the trust upon birth or when legally adopted.”
“No! Absolutely fucking not. You fix this!”
“Okay. I will. I’ll talk to Lucas and have him call you to discuss the paperwork.”
Silent fury. It was the only way to describe the look on his face as he stared at me. He crossed his arms over his chest, his feet spread shoulder width apart. He could’ve been the poster boy for a Marine Corps recruiting campaign.
