Unbreak My Heart(54)

That’s what’s so odd. If I take my pulse and my temperature, I’d have to ask if I’m sick. Because the me of a month or two ago wouldn’t have responded like this.

I don’t know how I’d have taken this—maybe caustically, maybe sarcastically.

Or perhaps, selfishly.

But it’s not about me. Not at all.

It’s still a shock, though, and maybe because this news is so unexpected, I need to ask the next question. “Did Ian know?”

Kana nods sadly. “Yes. He knew. We were the only ones who knew. He didn’t want to say anything to anyone until I was far enough along, until we knew that everything was going to be okay.”

Her voice breaks, because he’s not the one who gets to share this news.

I look away briefly, blinking, then back at her. The woman who holds a piece of Ian inside her. It’s humbling and awesome. She’s growing a person, and that person is a part of my brother and a part of her.

I drag a hand through my hair, questions still racing. “I didn’t realize he was able to. After the chemo treatments.”

She laughs. “We thought that too. We were both surprised. But his last chemo was nearly a year before he passed, and that’s why it was entirely possible.”

Holland clears her throat and pipes in, “For men, the chemo kills the sperm, but the body restarts making it again in time.”

Kana nods. “Yes, that’s what my doctor said too, after I realized I was late. We think it happened on Ian’s last trip here in late February.”

That was before the cancer fully returned with a vengeance in March. Talk about the nick of time. “You guys were like Indiana Jones grabbing his hat before the stone wall came down.”

“Yes, I suppose we were,” she says, and the conversation ceases as the waiter returns with the drinks.

“How did he take the news?” I ask once the waiter’s gone.

“He took it well. He was sad but happy, if that makes sense. I told him in person.”

I tilt my head, grasping for when she might have seen him. “I thought that was his last trip.”

“I flew to Los Angeles. Do you remember?”

“It was when I was in Miami. I wasn’t able to meet you,” I say, a little wistfully.

She nods. “Yes. I saw him and told him then.”

I scrub a hand over my jaw. I never thought twice about her visit. It never occurred to me how important it was. It was simply a trip—her last trip.

But it was so much more.

“I came to town to tell him,” she adds, filling in more gaps. “I couldn’t give him that kind of news on the phone or over Skype. I needed him to know in person, so I visited him, and we went out and celebrated with a game of bowling.”

Like a bright flash of neon at night, the last puzzle piece slides perfectly into place.

Everything that mattered to Ian lay on the table in a neat pile—my parents’ last words, the reconciliation with Laini, the news of his child.

But wait.

No. That’s not possible.

“Ian didn’t come back. He didn’t leave the magnet in the pile,” I say slowly, taking my time with each word.

She swallows and pushes a strand of hair from her face then takes a sip of the drink. “I left it there,” she says quietly, when she sets down the glass. “I wanted it to be with the other memories. It was my memento of the last time I saw him.”

Next to me, Holland’s shoulders shake, and she wipes a finger under her eye.

A lump rises in my throat, and I swallow roughly. “I can see him celebrating at a bowling alley. I love that you were able to.”

“We talked about when to tell you. We didn’t want to say anything right away, in case it didn’t work out. I told him I would wait as long as I could before I told you. He wanted that too.”

“Why?”

She takes a breath. “He didn’t want you to face any more loss if you didn’t have to.”

That was my brother. Always looking out for me. “I get it. You don’t have to apologize for keeping it to yourself. I completely understand,” I tell her, and the thing is—I do.

There was a time when I wouldn’t have. But that time has passed. I’m not the guy who clipped a car for no reason. I’m someone who tries to understand.

“I was twelve weeks pregnant at his memorial service. He didn’t want me to travel. He didn’t want anything to happen to the baby. So I stayed home. I stayed here. It broke my heart not to go,” she says, her voice stripped bare. She stops, swipes at her cheek, and Holland grabs a napkin from the table and hands it to her.

Kana thanks her and dabs at her eyes.

“But he gave me something when I was in California. He asked me to bring it back here and hold on to it so I could give it to you once I told you about the baby. I didn’t know then, of course, that you’d be in Tokyo, so I planned to send it to you. Now I can give it to you myself. I don’t know what it says.”

My spine straightens. “For me?” I ask, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

Kana dips her hand into her purse and takes out an envelope. She gives it to me. “It’s sealed.”

I regard it like a precious artifact with terrifying and beautiful powers.

I try to steady my breath. Try to keep my shit together. Holland rubs my back, a soothing gesture.