looks at me, I can see the mountain of questions in her eyes alone. She wants all the answers, and I don’t have many, but I’ll give her what I know. “What are you going to do, Leelee?”
“I don’t know, Luce.” My voice cracks, and I try to fight back my emotions. My fear. “I don’t fucking know.”
She’s quiet a minute, then, speaking through the knot in her throat, she asks, “What’s his name?”
“Benny.” I choke on the word.
“Benjamin?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Katie and Benny,” she muses. “They’re cousins, you know?”
I stare at her, unblinking. And then I break. In the arms of my sister, I fall apart. And I don’t care that I’m twenty-three, that I’m almost twice the size of the woman holding me, keeping me together. It’s as if the weight of the past two days has finally caught up with me, and I process every emotion, one by one. Beyond the hurt and the anger and the chaos, there’s something else. Something more. “It’s going to be okay,” she assures. “I promise.” She strokes my hair as I rest my head on her shoulder, her tears for me. “And I’m right here. Whatever you need, Leelee.”
Lucy and I sit on the bench for another hour, neither of us saying a word. Eventually, she asks about the academy, about my apartment, and how I’m doing with everything else, and I know it’s her way of placating my insecurities. There are two things Lucy can do that none of my brothers can: read an entire book in one sitting, and read me. She knows I needed to get my mind off Mia and Benny.
Benny.
I’ve never known a Benny, a Ben, or a Benjamin, and saying his name in my head is strange. Saying it out loud and knowing he’s a part of me is even stranger.
After I give Lucy some words resembling answers, she’s quiet again. Minutes pass, and we stare ahead, and then she asks, hesitantly, “Are you sure he’s yours?”
I take out my phone and show her the picture Mia had sent me.
I hear the exact moment my sister’s breath hitches, and I already know what’s coming before she even opens her mouth. “Jesus, Leo. Take away the color of his eyes, and he’s you.”
I shove the phone back in my pocket and don’t bother hiding my despair. “I’m so fucking scared,” I admit.
“It’s a lot to—”
“I love him, Lucy,” I cut in. “I already love him so much, and I’m terrified of hurting him.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Mia
“I can send you the mock-ups, but I don’t know if they’re what you’re after. I’m happy to keep working on it,” I say into the phone. On the other side of my office desk, Dad narrows his eyes, shakes his head at me.
With my facial expression alone, I tell him to stop it.
“Okay, I’ll send the link to the shared file now,” I say. “Have a good day. Bye.” I hang up and raise a finger at my dad, telling him to wait while I put together the email. Once I hear the whooshing sound of the email sending, I glance up at him. “I know.”
“You have to be tougher, Mia Mac.”
I sigh, my shoulders dropping. “I’m trying,” I mutter, deflated. “It’s not like it’s numbers and analytics.” I shrug. “I feel like I’m putting a part of me out there to be judged.”
“It’s exactly what you’re doing,” he says, his large frame shifting forward. “And you shouldn’t be worried because your work is good, Mia. It’s better than good.”
My lips thin to a line as I look behind him. Through the glass walls of my office, I catch Dad’s employees walking by, glancing in, only to realize that the Joseph Kovács is in here, and they look away quickly, their steps rushed as they flee the scene. If only they knew that his favorite pair of pajamas are sky blue with printed clouds, and he cries every time he watches A Walk to Remember…
“You need to be tough, like your dad,” he says, smirking.
I eye him sideways. “Or I could be a b-word like my mom.”
He cringes, sucks in air through his teeth.
I sigh. “I’m not like either of you, you know. I’m like Papa.”
“Oh, Mia. Papa was tough. You think he ran that farm all those years all”—his voice heightens in pitch, mocking me—”you can milk the cows now, but only if you want to, and I guess it’s okay to take a break whenever for however long because,