I’m a trust-fund baby. Money is something that will never disappear in my world. I’m already worth a few billion dollars, and I didn’t do a thing to get it besides being born. My parents, grandparents on both sides, and their grandparents before them were all trust-fund babies. The money keeps coming. I barely know what we own anymore.
I have an Ivy League education and a degree in business I haven’t used and have no interest in using. I’m walking through life with absolutely nothing to show for it. No goals, desires, talents, or skills to speak of. Basically…I’m nothing.
Knowing that Dr. Hart isn’t going to let me mull over my response for much longer, I admit what’s hurting me today. “It’s Hannon’s birthday.”
Unexpectedly, the doctor laughs. Loudly. The sound coming from her lips mimics ringing bells. Lovely, just like the woman doing it, though I find her laughter hurtful because she knows anything involving my dead brother guts me. Honestly, it doesn’t hurt as much as it pisses me off.
I narrow my eyes and strut over to stand near her chair. I place my hands on my hips, the ire her laughter brings burning against my flushed skin.
“Why are you laughing!” I demand on a growl.
My response only makes her laugh harder, so much that she fans her face with the yellow legal pad she keeps on her lap. “Sit down, Honor. My goodness you’re funny.”
I stomp over to the couch across from her, sit down softly as my ingrained manners require, and cross my arms over my chest. “Why?”
Dr. Hart blows out a breath of air and tucks an arm around her belly protectively. I noticed she’s been gaining weight since I started coming, but I didn’t think much of it. Now that I see her cup a section gingerly, it hits me. She’s pregnant.
“You’re pregnant!” I blurt out.
She grins. “Yes, just entering my fourth month. Did you think I was just getting a little fluffy?”
I lift my shoulders defiantly once more. “Not my business. What is my business is why you think me telling you what’s got me down today is so funny? Frankly, Dr. Hart, it hurts my feelings.”
“Honor, I’m sorry you took my laughter the wrong way, but do you even realize what you said?”
I shake my head.
“You’re sad because it’s Hannon’s birthday.”
“Yes, I know that. It’s what I told you,” I grumble.
“Did it not occur to you that, as twins, it’s your birthday too?” She blinks a few times and curves her lips into a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Honor.”
Her words smack me across the face without warning. Stupidly, I didn’t realize that it was my birthday, so focused on the fact that Hannon would have been twenty-six today, but he’s not here, so there was nothing to celebrate. We always shared our birthdays. The two of us would plan an entire day of fun just for us. No parents. Not that they ever remembered. Even Sean, when he came along, would allow us our day and celebrate the night with Hannon privately.
Tears prickle at the back of my eyes. I glance at the clock, noticing the short hand about to reach the five and the little hand the twelve. It’s just about the end of the workday. And that saddens me more as I give her more honesty. “You’re the first person today to tell me happy birthday.”
Dr. Hart leans forward and places her hand on mine where it rests over my knee. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Alone.”
Chapter Two
Flying Lotus Pose (Sanskrit: Padmasana)
This is an aerial lotus pose. Typically, beginners start with the hammock cushioning the buttocks, back, and legs as though you are sitting in the hammock longways. Place your legs into the hammock with the soles of your feet touching. An intermediate student can take the position farther by easing the silks behind the shoulders and biceps. The silks are then wrapped around the outsides of the feet so that you have a delicate push/pull of the upper and lower body to create balance.
NICHOLAS
“Ma! I’m here. What smells so damn good?” I holler while setting down my gym bag and keys and kicking off my sneakers.
“Watch your tongue, boy!” my mother yells back.
I make my way through my childhood home, along the hallways filled to the brim with family pictures of my five sisters and me, my mother and father, and our extended Italian clan. I come from a big family. Not only did my parents have six children, but they each came from six themselves. That makes for some roaring family get-togethers. It’s a good thing my parents built their home long ago when the market outside of Berkeley in the Bay was still affordable. The house may not be huge—my sisters had to bunk up all their lives—but it has an enormous backyard that backs up against a small river. One we’ve taken advantage of more times than I can count with gatherings, birthdays, and celebrations.
Like tonight. Family dinner nights are Sundays—no exceptions unless one of us is out of town. My mother would have my hide if I blew her off. And if I said I was sick, either she’d be banging down my door, checking in on me, bringing homemade chicken noodle soup, or one of my sisters would. My family is close. Very close. It’s just our way. Sometimes it can be a pain in the ass, but most of the time, it’s the best feeling in the world. I’ve never felt alone or out of touch because there is always someone at the ready to hold my hand and lift me up, support me and my goals and dreams. And I do the same for them. Family is everything to the Salernos.
I get to the kitchen and find my tiny mother slaving over several pots simmering on the stove. Homemade marinara steams up the room with a mouthwatering scent that equals happiness and home. Nothing better. Getting close,
