Page 92 of Breaking His Law

“You good?”

“Better than good.” I let out a dreamy breath.

“It’s what you needed; you’ve been working too hard.”

“So have you.”

“We both have,” he counters, staring me down. “This is the first day off I’ve had in months.”

“Did you check your emails this morning?” He’s like a teenager obsessed with social media, but his obsession is email checking.

His fingertips tickle my thighs as he moves up my body. “No.” He doesn’t blink, and I know he’s telling the truth.

Just when I think he’s going to touch my hips, his hands disappear from my body. Instead, he sits next to me then spreads his arms out on either side of him around the edge of circular wall.

If he falls asleep, I’m going to let him. His sleep pattern is much better, but he needs more. I copy him when he closes his eyes and use the sounds of the open space, the birds, the water, the wind, to help me zone out.

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, letting the healing power of the water soothe our muscles.

“Do you like it here?” His question breaks my meditative state, causing me to open my eyes, and I look around.

“I love it here,” I admit. “I can see why your parents rent this place out for weddings throughout the summer.”

“It hasn’t been a working cattle ranch for years and Mom wanted to do something to keep herself busy once we left for college and while she waited for dad to retire. Weddings seemed like a great idea and she’s booked pretty much all summer, except for this weekend.”

I shoot my shot.

“I’m guessing that since your dad’s diagnosis, your mom is spending retirement on her own instead of enjoying it together with him.”

The silence stretches between us again before he asks in a low tone, “Did she tell you about Dad?”

“Yeah.” My voice is quiet too, and full of sincerity. “I’m sorry, Nathan.”

Time passes before he responds.

“Somedays, he doesn’t recognize any of us, which is harder on Mom. She visits him every day at the memory care home. Some days he’s great and some days are not so good.” It’s a long time before he starts talking again. “Me and my brothers see each other every day and have that built-in support, but Mom is here all by herself most of the time and I know she loves organizing the weddings with all the staff she hires, and she keeps herself busy, but it’s not the same as having your soulmate by your side.”

My chest grows heavy with sadness for the family as tears prick my eyes.

Nathan keeps opening up. “It seems so unfair, unjust almost. My mom and dad had plans to travel the world together once he retired. They had their flights booked to Singapore, but his decline was fast, and they never did make their first trip.” As he runs his hands down his face, I can tell he’s struggling with his father’s demise. “I feel sorry for Mom more than anyone. She raised us single-handedly, drove us to every after-school club there was, spent almost every weekend alone or with friends while my dad worked long hours, and yet still she waited for him. She was always waiting. And now”—he looks off into the distance—“she’s still alone, still looking after us and just waiting for him and his symptoms to worsen, which they seem to do with every week that passes. And she never complains.”

“She’s a remarkable woman.” I’ve only met her a handful of times, and already I know she’s made from resilience and strength and does everything with determination and grace.

“I never wanted that for my own family,” he admits.

“Is that why you never got married?” I think the way Nathan lives his life is all starting to make sense.

Him showing me this vulnerable side no one else gets to see makes me feel special. The hard exterior he wears every day is to protect himself, I know this all too well, because I wear one myself. Around him, though, I’ve been slowly shedding it and letting him into my life, something I’m not particularly good at because I’m always waiting for the ball to drop, a moment when the tide turns.

That’s what makes what is happening between us scary, because I’m falling so fast and hard but what if I end up alone again?

And while I want to still pursue the truth for my family, part of me doesn’t want to know now, because I’ll lose him if I do and I think Nathan might bethe one.

He keeps sharing his innermost fears. “I didn’t want anyone resenting me or waiting around like my mom has her entire life, and even now, fifty years later, she’s still alone.” He lets out a long exhalation. “The life I have”—he stalls again—“is not an easy one. It takes up all my time.”

My heart aches for him. And why can’t he see that he’s the one who can break the chain? His future doesn’t have to follow the same path as his father’s.

I climb into his lap, straddling him, and clasp his face with both hands. “Your life is not defined by someone else’s expectations.” The weight of it must be crippling, but I know how much he loves his job. “You are the one in control of your life, only you.” I give it to him in the simplest of terms. “Continue to do the job you love, but you don’t have to take so many caseson. You don’t have to take any cases on at all for the rest of the year if you don’t want to. Work, yes, and assist other cases, but don’t dig yourself an early grave trying to maintain what your father did. You don’t have anything to prove to anyone. You have three other brothers to carry the burden. What your father did to build the reputation of the firm and make the Hart name everyone’s first choice for a lawyer is incredible, but you don’t have to run at the same pace he did and then regret it for the rest of your life. Bring in more support if you need to, or implement an executive management team, because I don’t want you waking up one day in thirty years’ time regretting that you didn’t take that trip to see the Taj Mahal or sleep under the stars by campfire or learn Spanish. If you don’t take your foot off the gas now, before you know what’s happened, you’ll be ninety years old, alone, moaning about taxes and wearing incontinence underwear.”

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