Page 72 of Love Again

“I’m worried about you,” says Keller.

“I know, but you don’t have to be.”

“I’m not worried about this,” he says and gestures to my body. “I’m worried about this.” He puts that ham-sized hand over his chest.

There’s something in that simple gesture that honors me and Devon and what we’re going through. That my brother can see our situation and feel this for us tears open a raw, tender part in my heart.

I set the burger back down and close my eyes for a moment, resting my forehead against my fingertips.

“I’m not trying to annoy you,” he says.

“I know and you’re not.” I open my eyes and pick up the burger again. “Just, thanks for being you, Keller. Thanks for being my brother.”

΅

The next morning, we’re supposed to have a second official roundtable meeting with Jack Carlson, Finn, Nic, Mateus, Devon, and me to pull together what we’ve each independently discovered. I don’t think there’s any way the DNA tests are going to be back, but there’s a slim chance.

I wake physically exhausted. I don’t think I slept well, and when I sit up, my back spasms so hard I catch my breath. My legs and arms suddenly feel weak, and I’m light-headed again. I lie back down and close my eyes while the small room spins. For a moment, I have a horrible feeling I’ve set myself back.

I open my eyes as the terrible weakness slowly leaves. It must have been due to a drop in blood pressure. A wave of rage surges—rage with myself. I can’t stand living like this, not trusting my body, not feeling like myself. Then I think of Mateus.

I have no complaints.

I’m alive. I am with Devon.

I say to myself again: I am with Devon.

That is the truth.

I hear water running in the kitchen and realize my brother must have heard me getting up. When I make it into the kitchen in a threadbare LL Bean bathrobe, he lets me know verbally and with gestures about the now six quarts of water in jars, shoved against the backsplash.

“You need to drink these by two p.m.,” he says, tapping his watch.

I give him a sleepy thumbs-up.

“Have you checked in with your doctor? It’s Tuesday. Shouldn’t you be getting better faster?”

“I’m fine. I keep telling you I’m fine.”

“Hey. Did you talk to Devon today?”

“No.” I stare at the small, round retro clock on his fancy stove. “It’s like seven fifteen. I’m not calling her now.”

“Okay,” he says airily, as if I’m an idiot and missing some kind of opportunity.

“I’ll see you after the meeting and it’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

“Did she mention the divorce papers?”

I start to pour myself some coffee, but he takes the carafe away from me and slides the glass pitcher back into the machine.

“I’ve got some decaf green tea in the cupboard. Drink that.”

“Oh my God. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Devon’s got to be wrangled to do what you want her to do. You’re going to have to figure this out, but if you want those divorce papers to go away, you’d better tell her how it is. But make her think it’s her idea.”

Now, I stare at him, dipping the teabag up and down in my hot water, amazed at my brother’s temerity.