He nods and rubs his chest. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m almost always right,” I say.
“Not even you believe your bullshit,” he says.
I laugh, then look back at Franki. Her attention cuts to Gabriel, then back to me, the question in her eyes clear.
I give a small shake of my head.
Dante and Spencer slow dance as the guests mingle and gather around.
Gabriel, tux jacket long abandoned, tie loose, and sleeves rolled back to reveal his tattoos, rocks on his heels beside me. “Did you see Dean’s face when he looked at that menu?”
Elliot’s prank was too funny to let those menus go to waste completely. “He almost laughed.”
No sooner do I say the words than my brother-in-law, his youngest son in one arm, salutes me with his beer bottle. It’s not that Dean never smiles, but you have to look for it in the corner of his eyes.
My little sister could have chosen any man, but, for some reason, she wanted a gruff and scarred ex-Army Ranger security specialist.
I couldn’t have chosen better for her myself.
Gabriel sighs. “I’m glad we didn’t have to try to kill him.”
A laugh barks out of me. “Took a while to be sure.”
Gabriel snorts.
“Speaking of taking a while . . .” I trail off, uncertain how to proceed. I’m notoriously blunt. It ought to be easy.
But I’m the oldest. I take care of this family. Stepping back feels selfish. He may need me to maintain the status quo.
Gabriel frowns, lowering his glass. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. Franki and I are going to have a child, assuming all goes as planned.” It feels necessary to add the last part, as if overconfidence could somehow tempt fate. If he asks why I said it, I’ll cite statistics. But the truth is, I’ll do anything to hedge our bets, including acting as superstitious as it takes. There are still plenty of mysteries in this universe.
Gabriel’s eyes flare, a grin breaking out across his face. “Franki’s pregnant?”
“Not yet. We decided during the cocktail hour.”
He shakes his head like he needs to dislodge something. “Okay.”
“I want to leave corporate life,” I say in a rush. “I want to take my wife somewhere quiet where we can both get teaching jobs and breathe fresh air and have a kid.”
Gabriel freezes.
At his silence, I continue. “But, if you’re afraid taking over will test your sobriety, I can stay in New York and maintain the status quo. Whatever you need to stay steady. I don’t have to leave my job to become a father.”
Gabriel throws up a hand to halt my words. “Don’t put this on me. I told you I was ready more than two years ago. It’s about whether you trust me to take the wheel. That’s it, Henry.”
“If you say you’re not worried about the stress, I’ll believe you. But you have to be honest.”
“I’m not worried about it.” He pauses and seems to reach for the right words. “I love this work. It gives me purpose. Meanwhile, you’ve been ignoring your purpose to do something you hate. See the difference? We should get the fuck out of each other’s way.”
Relief blooms inside so fast, I feel emotionally dizzy from it, years of pent-up frustration circling down a gurgling drain.
When a fist forms in my throat, I fight not to choke the fuck up. I’ve been carrying a heavy weight for so long that I forgot what it feels like to put it down.
For years, I’d convinced myself enduring my job for the good of the McRae family was a necessary part of life. Hoping to leave the CEO label behind wasn’t the same thing as believing I could.
