She nods, her blonde curls bobbing. “I agree. We should probably talk ourselves.”
With that, I take the stairs and let Darcy know Marcus is here.
Once the two guys and Ruth are situated, and Priscilla and I have brought them all water, the two of us head for the sitting room. She sits down, crossing one long leg over the other before smoothing the sparkly, silver dress she still wears from the party tonight.
“This is awkward,” Priscilla says in a self-deprecating tone. “Please believe me when I say I had no idea Marcus was Darcy’s half-brother. What Richard did tonight is inexcusable. He hurt the man he raised as his own, humiliated his wife publicly, and in the process, turned the lives of two important people to me upside down.”
I clasp my hands together, fiddling with my wedding band with my thumb. “Yes, he’s a foul man, that’s for sure. Glad we can agree on that. How are Marcus and his mom holding up?”
“Marcus is, surprisingly, overjoyed to have a brother. Martha, however, is getting ready to announce she is divorcing Richard.”
“What? After all these years? Why did she stay so long?”
Priscilla shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Richard has known from the very beginning that Marcus wasn’t actually his, but the birth certificate says otherwise. He made the decision to raise him as his own, so we were all dumbfounded tonight. I can only assume Richard’s disdain for Darcy and his father, coupled with the fact that Darcy and Richard are neck-and-neck in early polling, drove him to try and drop an October Surprise to ruin Darcy’s chances at the presidency.”
“Well, it’s going to backfire,” I scoff. Priscilla purses her light pink lips and agrees. I continue, “I think Darcy is happy to have a younger brother, too. But it’s going to take time for him to acceptit. He’s having a difficult time because of how Marcus came into existence, especially because of Ophelia.”
“I figured as much,” Priscilla says, and I remember that the woman sitting off to the side of me in the ornate brown chair knows my husband. Maybe even better than I do.
“How was Darcy as a boy?” I ask.
Priscilla smiles, and her blue eyes take on a faraway look. “After Ophelia died, Darcy wasn’t the same. Yes, he was always prim, proper, and controlling, but he had this warmth about him. He always looked for the good in others and was always the first to step up and help. He cracked jokes and smiled and let people in. He knew how to balance work and play.”
She trails off, and I nod along, unfolding my hands. “He’s still that man underneath his icy exterior. He’s got a genuine goodness that saturates his soul. It runs so much deeper than the media mask he wears.” I don’t mention how much I love the way he is because of his autism. It makes him all the more special to me. But I don’t know if Priscilla knows that about him. I don’t know who he has or hasn’t told in his past.
“You’re partly to blame, you know?” Priscilla asks rhetorically, arching an eyebrow. Not one to opt for false humility, I grin.
“Yeah, I do. He’s melted for me, huh?”
Priscilla laughs. “Yes. He has.” And then in all seriousness, she says, “I’m glad he has you, Hayden. I was never right for him. But his younger brother,” she waggles her eyebrows, “is like my favorite pair of jeans.”
“Christmas dinner is going to be awkward this year, isn’t it?” I stand, chuckling. Priscilla mimics my actions, but then she hugs me.
“Not if we don’t let it.”
Darcy, Ruth, and Marcus walk into the room at that moment, and Priscilla and I break apart to join our guys. I grab Ruth’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.
“Well?” Priscilla asks, and I’m glad she beat me to it.
Marcus and Darcy, with puffy red faces that so closely resemble one another, smile sadly. Marcus responds first, “I was shocked, but overall, I couldn’t have asked for a better older brother. I’ve looked up to him for a long time.”
Darcy, to my surprise, snickers. “I guess I should have known. You look like me when I was your age.”
“Just hotter,” Marcus jests, and we all laugh, though it doesn’t quite lighten the somber mood. If anything, it’s a reminder that the men have different mothers.
“I know you aren’t my son,” Ruth says, choking on the words, “but you are always welcome into my household.” She shifts her eyes to Priscilla. “You too, missy.”
My heart swells.
I know the next few months will be difficult.
I know there is going to be story after story circulating with misinformation.
I know we could lose this election and Richard could win.
But at the end of the day, I have a family to come home to.
I have Darcy. We have Ruth and Ren and Stella. And now we have Marcus and Priscilla, no matter how awkward things mayget. And who knows. Maybe even Marcus’s mother will join us, though that will ultimately be up to Ruth.
