“No, we aren’t dying.” He sighs. “We are getting older, though, and we thought it would be a good time to go over our things and make sure they’re in order.”
Leaning back, mirroring his pose, I shrug. “This really sounds like a conversation you should be having with Graham.”
“Typically, it would be,” he agrees. “But this is one I want to have with you.”
“If you think you’re cutting me out of the inheritance—”
“Lincoln, hush.”
He shakes his head again. I think he’s on the verge exasperation, but I don’t give a shit. This conversation is weird, and I don’t know where it’s going. I look over my shoulder for Graham or Barrett, but no one is around.
I know my role in this family, and it isn’t one that involves decisions or responsibility. I’m good with that. There’s no need to mess it up now.
He takes a long, deep breath. “How would you feel if I were to make you the executor of my will?”
I had one beer this afternoon. I wasn’t hit with a golf club. I got plenty of sleep last night, and I’m fairly certain Dani hasn’t been poisoning me.
Yet, Dad’s face isn’t flinching. No one is jumping out of the bushes, pointing at me and laughing and yelling, “Gotcha!” So, what the fuck is this?
My stomach knots up as a lump settles at the base of my throat. “Um, I think I misheard you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Okay.” I can’t help but wiggle in my seat like a child. “You want me to be the guy that makes sure your things are divided equally?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I balk. “Barrett’s the oldest. Graham’s the most responsible. Ford’s the honorable one out of us,” I reiterate. “Why would you want me to do that? Dani doesn’t even let me mix Ryan’s formula.”
Amusement flickers across his face. “Do you remember when Camilla got a rabbit from the shelter when she was seven or eight? And then it got out of its cage in the middle of the night?”
“You all blamed me for that. I’m still a little salty now that I think about it.”
Dad tries not to laugh. “But what did you do?”
“I rode my bike to the shelter and got her another one. I had to convince her it had reddish fur the day before and she just didn’t realize it. That was a chore.” I groan, remembering how I spent an entire summer day dealing with a bunny I didn’t even like. My eyes flip back to my dad. “What’s this have to do with your estate?”
“That’s why I want you to be the executor.”
“Because I got Cam a new bunny twenty years ago?”
“Yes.”
Getting to my feet, I jab a finger his way. “You’ve lost your mind. It took longer than I thought it would, but here we are.”
He stands as well and puts his hand on my shoulder. It’s another warning not to move. To stay put. That I’m probably going to need to brace for whatever he’s about to say. “Out of all my children, you and I are the most different.”
“True. Very, very true.”
“You don’t have to say it like that.”
“What do you expect? It’s true. How much more different could we be?”
He considers this as he blows out a breath. Instead of directly addressing my question, he goes into storytelling mode. I settle in for the long haul and try to convince myself I don’t hear Dani’s laugh vaguely through the door.
“I got my first job as a twelve-year-old boy delivering newspapers to the neighborhood,” he says. “I’ve worked every day since that day. Barrett, Graham, especially, and even Ford are just like I am.”
“I know. You tell me all the time, which is why I don’t understand why you didn’t pick one of them. Are you punishing me? Is this some kind of way for you to get back at me for not wanting the vice president job at Landry Holdings?”
His arm goes over my shoulders like I’ve seen him to do my brothers a hundred times. It isn’t really our thing, and it kind of feels a little awkward, but not bad.
“No, Lincoln. You’re different from me, but that isn’t a bad thing.”
“Well, yeah. Obviously. Look at me.”
He smacks my back before pulling away. “Don’t get too cocky.”
“Danielle calls it confidence.”
“I believe your mother calls it arrogance, and hers is the opinion that matters at the end of the day.”
I start to object, but his single crooked brow stops me. “As I was saying, your mother and I have been discussing the future and who should handle our affairs. Naturally, we considered Graham. He’s the logical choice.”
“Clearly.”
“But Graham would divide everything up into six parts. He would kill himself over making sure everyone had their equal piece.”
“Clearly. Which,” I add quickly, “would make it five parts because he wouldn’t need his when he keeled over from stress, and that does have its benefits.”
He ignores that.
“Life isn’t about being fair,” Dad says, gazing over the lawn again. “It isn’t about things or wealth or accumulating all kinds of shit that sits on a mantle. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah. I mean . . . I could be playing in the majors right now if I wanted to bad enough. But I didn’t want to give up being there for Ryan as he grew up or coming home to Danielle at night. There just isn’t enough money in the world to make up for that.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he says, nodding emphatically. “I hate to admit this, but seeing you with Ryan really shed some light on things for me. Barrett with Huxley, too, but that kid of yours . . .” He beams. “I should’ve spent more time with you playing catch and a few less hours at the office, Linc.”
I try to swallow but can’t. My throat is squeezed shut as I watch a man that could do anything in the entire universe look at me like a mortal.
When I look at my wife, I can tell what she’s thinking by the look in her eyes. I’ve never had that happen with another person in the world. She doesn’t have to speak, doesn’t have to indicate what she’s feeling or needs—I know. It’s a conversation that doesn’t need to be had aloud.
For the first time in my life, I’m having that same thing with my father. It’s a moment I will never forget. Clearing my throat, I look away.
“You are my only child that understands what life’s really about, Lincoln. You’d spend all day rolling around on the floor with Ryan.”
“Or Danielle,” I crack, needing some levity.
Dad laughs, tapping at his eyes with a handkerchief from his pocket. “Think about what I’ve said, all right?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat again, the lump not completely dissolved. “And Dad?”
“Yes, Son?”
“I’m glad you didn’t play catch with me much. Your fastball is shit.”
“Oh, Linc . . .”
His arm is around me again as we head into the house.
Three
“Stop talking about me,” I say as I step into the living room.
“Why would we be talking about you?” Ford asks. Ryan is propped up against him and is wearing a little camouflage outfit Ford’s wife, Ellie, bought him last week.
Reaching down, I lift Ryan off Ford’s lap, ignoring my brother’s silent protest, and curl my son against my chest. He nuzzles into me, smelling of baby soap and his mama. The world could end right now and I wouldn’t care.
I scan the room until I find Danielle. She’s standing next to the sliding glass door that leads into the backyard. She’s still a little rounder than she was before Ryan, her eyes a little darker. She’s never been more perfect.
Her eyes meet mine, and despite the laughter from my mom and brothers’ wives in the kitchen, Huxley’s video game on the television, my father telling a story behind me that my brothers seem to love, all I can see is Dani.
Sometimes I watch her sleep and marvel that she chose me. She could have had any guy she wanted. Yet, she chose me—the goofy baseball player who was on his way out of the league with an injury. She saw past the jokes and failures and the way I drool in my sleep and agreed to marry me and have my babies.
My cock strains the fabric of my pants.