Page 74 of Feel Free to Scream

I won’t deny I’m surprised; I thought he’d be a typical trust fund baby. “You want to make your own way?”

“We Kellers aren’t Hunts, Archers, or Goltzes. We don’t havebillions. I mean, we do well enough, but there aren’t hundreds of years of generational wealth behind it. My father’s the one who made us rich. So, if I can’t add to it, I can at the very least do my best to avoid wasting his cash, so I can give what was handed to me down to my children.”

A mature point of view.

“Your dad’s money will have doubled by the time you have kids, if you let it lie and get interest. So you can hand down the same amount to a couple of children.”

“Doubled? You’re funny. I mean, we place some of it in certain, steady income streams, but a good half is invested. It grows exponentially. I could give adozenkids the same amount my father put in my initial trust fund and still have plenty to spare.”

That’s said casually, without a hint of arrogance. “So it doesn’t sound like you need to be a surgeon after all.”

“The market rises and falls. It’s handy to have a career.” After a second, he adds, “And I’d be bored if I just sat at home. I figured, if Magnus and I open our own private practice , I can work as much or as little as I want, have plenty of time for my family.” He bumps his feet to my knee, smirking. “I gotta help you with those dozen children, after all.”

I laugh, playing along. “Oh,hellno. I want two perfect children, thank you very much. A boy and a girl.”

“That sounds like a good starting point for negotiations. How about five? Five is less than twelve.”

“Five would turn me into a modern Mrs. Bennet, screaming about my poor nerves. I love kids. I would like to be able to say that again in twenty years.”

“Three,” he counters. “Three’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Aren’t you an only child? Why do you want a bunch of kids?”

“I had my cousins,” he says. “They’re all around my age and we spent a lot of time together. We might occasionally butt heads—we’re all rather opinionated—but growing up, it was like having brothers. Slightly unhinged brothers, but you can’t pick your family. And then, Octavia turned up. I freaking love that kid. Lisa couldn’t stop me from holding her when she was little. Enough that Vivi ended up crying every time she was put down, as she was so used to sleeping in my arms. I adore children.”

That’s…very sweet, and somehow redefines what I know about him so far. I certainly wouldn’t have pictured him holding a baby for ages.

“But did you help change her diapers?” I challenge, expecting a resounding no.

“I mean, as much as Lisa and Dad would. Not all the time—she had nannies, too. But if she needed to be changed when she was with me, of course I did it.”

Never mind. I know nothing about this guy. “Talk like that and you could sell me on four kids,” I joke.

“Deal.”

I clear my throat. “I need to call my grandmother. I haven’t spoken to her since the weekend and she’s freaking out a bit. Would I disturb you if I did it here?”

“Go ahead.” He returns to his textbook.

I only have fifteen minutes left until dinner, which is perfect. I can tell her I have to go if she keeps nagging.

I call, and she answers almost immediately. “Finally!”

I ignore the jab, refusing to let her corner me into repeating the justifications I already texted her. “Hi, Grandma, how are you?”

“I’d be better if I knew you were alive and well, young lady. This is not how I raised you. You could have been kidnapped and killed! Someone could just be texting in your place.”

Four days. We talkedfour days ago.

“Sorry you worried. Maybe we could have a secret word to share so you know it’s me. Like porcupine.”

“I would rather you answer your phone.”

“Well, it’s not always possible, between my classes, social engagements, and the fact that you’re three hours ahead,” I reply reasonably. “But tell me about the surgery! It’s so exciting. Your doctor recommended it like, what, two years ago?”

As I speak, I glance to the man responsible for my grandmother’s luck. I don’t think I’ve thanked him for that properly yet. Or I tried, but he didn’t let me.

No thanks necessary. You paid for that, with interest, if I recall.

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