“I have my ways.” The kind he wasn’t about to tell his brother.
Not after what happened last time Hudson had started to bring up his secret painting at a family event. If it hadn’t have been for his father’s supposed clean bill of health, maybe they would have realized his shortness of breath and the tingling in his hand had been the first symptoms of potential heart trouble. Six months and one massive heart attack later and Michael Carlyle was gone.
“Thanks, man.” Sawyer strode to his desk and put the tickets into the top drawer.
“There is a catch,” he said, settling down onto the guest chair on the other side of Sawyer’s desk. “You have to take Tyler.”
His brother glowered at him and pulled out one of the tickets. “Here. Take the extra ticket back.”
“Nope.” Hudson shook his head. He’d given up one of his favorite painting for those tickets, and he wasn’t going to let a little victory slip through his fingers because of his brother’s stubbornness. So he turned and did a little spin work. “Tyler has made connections all over Asia and is consulting with some of the biggest companies over there. That’s Carlyle Enterprises’ biggest target area for growth right now, and we can’t afford to continue this little middle school feud you two have going.”
The grimace slid off his brother’s face, replaced by a smarmy grin. “Mom will be so proud. Is the prodigal son finally coming home to the family business?” He turned to Clover, shaking his head. “You know, he tried to walk away from it all in college.” Then turned back to Hudson. “What was it? Painting? Photography?”
Something sharp slashed his stomach lining, but he managed not to flinch. “Painting.”
“That’s right,” Sawyer said. “Your talents for schmoozing would have been highly missed.”
“Especially if Sawyer had to be in charge of it,” Clover said, teasing her husband with the truth and then turning her notices-everything-attention on Hudson. “I didn’t know you are a painter.”
“Was,” Sawyer said, relieving Hudson from having to do anything but pretend it didn’t matter. “He stopped in college after dad almost lost his mind about it.”
“Why?” she asked.
Now wasn’t that the question he’d never been able to find a good answer for. So instead of fighting, he developed an alter-ego one that was starting to weigh on him. The urge to tell them the truth built up pressure inside him until it physically hurt. The words, admitting the truth, were pushing against his lips when he realized that Clover had gone white and was pressing her lips together hard.
“Are you okay?” he asked, all thoughts of revealing he was Hughston pushed to the side again.
“I’m fine. It’s just I’m fighting some nasty morning sickness,” she said, her hand rubbing circles over her belly. “It’ll pass. It always does.”
“You’re pregnant?”
Sawyer laughed as he pulled out a chair for his wife. “Come on. I suck with details, and even I would have connected morning sickness and pregnancy without having to ask.”
“We just found out, and we’re waiting a few more weeks before sharing the news. I’m a little cautious on making it public because I know so many people who’ve had miscarriages.”
His brain took a second to catch up with the announcement. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Say congratulations,” she said, color coming back into her face as she smiled.
“And wish for a calm and stressless pregnancy,” Sawyer said, looking down at his wife with so much emotion on his face it was uncomfortable to see.
Shit. Poking old family scars by revealing he was Hughston sure wouldn’t give Clover the stress-free environment the happy couple wanted. He vowed then and there to keep his mouth shut. Their news was better anyway. Who didn’t love welcoming a new generation into the family?
“Congratulations,” he said, hugging Clover and high-fiving his brother. “This is great news.”
“Just promise us one thing,” she said, her voice muffled by Hudson’s shoulder. “We wanted to tell Helene ourselves, but not for a few more weeks.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Hudson promised, figuring his mom had probably already guessed anyway, the buzzing of his phone saving him from saying any more. “Sorry, I need to check this.”
He pulled his phone out of his front pocket and swiped his thumb across the lock screen.
Felicia: OMG, Tyler just asked me out. You are officially wrong about last night.
He read the text again. It didn’t make any more sense on the second reading.
Hudson: What kind of date?
Felicia: Coffee