Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hayden
Darcy paces outside of the conference room we normally use for campaign meetings here inside the estate. He runs his fingers through his hair before shoving his hands into his pockets, repeating the pattern over and over as his brown loafers shuffle against the wooden floor.
“Darcy,” I say gently. He doesn’t respond, so I stand and wait for him to think through whatever is running around his mind.
After we made it outside of the Tower, Marcus and Darcy made plans to meet here later tonight after Marcus went home to talk to his mother.
My heart breaks for everyone involved, especially my husband.
We are one month out from the election, so he doesn’t have the time to sit with this news and figure out the best way to navigate it.
Time evades us, and we have to work through this and generate a statement by morning, or rumors will spread and spiral through the tabloids.
They already are.
“I have a brother,” Darcy states, coming to an abrupt stop in front of me, eyes blank. “I lost a sister, and I have a brother.” His voice is calm, factual.
Yeah, he hasn’t processed this yet.
Continuing, “My father slept with Loveless’s wife. He cheated on my mom before Ophelia died. We knew about his affairs after her death, but this?”
I search for words, knowing none could even begin to balm the hurt and confusion he’s experiencing. But sometimes words are useless things. I wrap him in my arms, even though he doesn’t return the hug.
Squeezing tighter and pressing my cheek against his chest, I say a silent prayer that the Lord will help him navigate this because I, quite frankly, don’t know what to do other than be present.
As I end my unspoken prayer, Darcy crumbles.
His large body shakes with sobs as he crushes me in a hug that signals he’s using me as his lifeline right now. I spread my legs to balance myself against the fullness of his weight, tightening my grip around his hunched back.
“I–I hate him,” Darcy says between hitches in his breathing. “How dare he not tell me about my brother!”
I cling tighter to my husband as liquid soaks my black dress. My heart fractures for him, and if I could resurrect his father from the grave just to have unkind words with him, I would in the blink of an eye.
“Darcy.” Ruth’s voice sounds from behind us, and I feel Darcy’s head lift from my shoulder.
He breaks free from my hold and folds into her arms as they cry together, the fractals of my heart breaking down even further.
I maneuver around them and walk down the hallway, around the corner, until I’m at the winding stairs.
As I descend to the first floor, Darcy’s cries haunt me, and I wish I could do something to ease his pain.
But I know he needs to talk to his mom right now, and I should be downstairs to greet Marcus when he arrives.
As I wait, my mind whirs.
Darcy has a brother. I have a brother-in-law.
Darcy’s dad is dead. I have no idea who my father is or if he’s even alive.
Darcy’s mom just had her life overhauled.
I have no idea who my mother is, but I know she abandoned me.
Darcy grew up in a controlled, pressured environment.
I grew up as a floater with no one to hold me accountable, for the most part.
We are so different, yet we are the same.
And sometimes I think to myself that maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have parents to cut me and carve me up the way Darcy’s father has done to him.
The door opens, and Marcus walks in, hand-in-hand with Priscilla. For the first time, I remember she’s Darcy’s ex. And now she’s with his brother.
Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have siblings, too.
I smile. “Hi, guys. Darcy’s upstairs with Ruth. I can bring you to meet him after I make sure he’s ready.” I turn to go back up the stairs, but I pause and look back. “Priscilla, it might be best to let the guys talk alone.”
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 accept it.
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 may get. And who knows. Maybe even Marcus’s mother will join us, though that will ultimately be up to Ruth.
I slip my arm around Darcy, and he looks down at me. I smile, mouth the words, “I love you,” and bump my hip into him.
He leans down and gives me the sweetest forehead kiss before saying, “I love you, Hayden.”
Nothing else. I will never need anything else than this right here.