Gilbert said nothing, but looked at his brother as though awaiting news of his death sentence.
“You’re fine,” Miles said. “You don’t have it.”
“How can you possibly know whether—”
Miles raised a hand. “Don’t go apeshit on me, but I had your DNA sampled.”
“When did you—”
“Dorian took your Coke can. When I broke the news to you about myself, I didn’t want you to have to wait to find out what your own situation was. You’re in the clear.”
Gilbert looked as though he might begin to weep. “I feel a little overwhelmed.”
“Sure.”
And then Gilbert did something Miles wasn’t expecting. He leaned over, as best he could in the cramped cabin of the Porsche, and put his arms around his brother, burying his face in his neck.
“I’m so sorry,” Gilbert said. “This is so goddamn fucking unfair.”
He held on to Miles for nearly fifteen seconds. “It’s okay,” Miles said, starting to disentangle himself from Gilbert. “It’s okay.”
Gilbert settled himself back into position behind the wheel, slowly shaking his head as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Whatever you need, if there’s anything I can do, all you have to do is ask.”
Miles smiled and tapped the dash. “Take care of my baby.”
Gilbert sighed. “I don’t give a shit about the car.”
“Well, if you don’t want it, then—”
“I didn’t say that.”
Which prompted them both to laugh to the point that they both had tears running down their faces.
“I haven’t laughed like that since I got the news,” Miles said.
“Oh, jeez,” Gilbert said, wiping his tears.
Once they’d calmed down, Miles said, “There’s something else.”
“Something else? Jesus, you’ve already given me one heart attack. You want to go for two?”
“This part may be even harder to tell you.”
Gilbert said nothing, steeling himself.
“You’re an uncle.”
“I’m... what?”
“You’re an uncle,” Miles repeated. “Several times over.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Miles was about to speak when his eyes widened and his head weaved slightly.
“Miles, are you okay?”
“Just... a little woozy for a second there. I’m okay. So, more than twenty years ago, I was looking for some extra cash. I made some money in kind of an unconventional way.”
Miles told him about going to the ReproGold Clinic, the sperm donation. Gilbert listened intently, mouth open, attempting to process so many family-related developments in such a short time.
“So,” Gilbert said, letting it all sink in, “you could have all kinds of kids out there.”
“As it turns out, just nine,” Miles said. He reached into an inside jacket pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “And here they are.” With some dramatic flair, he unfolded the sheet and handed it to his brother.
“Ta-da.” Gilbert looked at the words on the page. A list of names, with addresses and brief biographical details next to them.
Nina Allman, Todd Cox, Katie Gleave, Jason Hamlin, Dixon Hawley, Colin Neaseman, Barbara Redmond, Chloe Swanson, Travis Roben.
None of the names meant anything to Gilbert. Slowly, he said, “I thought — I didn’t think — how did you get these? I thought this information is confidential.”
“It is,” Miles said. “But someone with access to the relevant files was having some financial troubles. As the Godfather would say, I had someone make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.”
“Christ, I hope she didn’t have a horse.”
Miles smiled. “Nothing like that. I sent Heather, you know, who does our security work. Investigative stuff. She’s pretty remarkable. She says there’s no one more invisible in this world than a middle-aged woman. She works it to her advantage. Anyway, her efforts definitely expedited the process of finding out who my biological kids might be.”
Gilbert, still looking at the names, shook his head. “This is unbelievable.” He looked at Miles and said, “Why?”
“Why?”
“Why’d you go to all this effort to find out who they are?”
“Think about it,” Miles said. “Think about what they need to know.”
“Oh God, of course. There’s a high probability that... oh man. You’ve been in touch? They all know?”
“No,” he said. “Not yet. None of them know. I’ve been thinking about how to make the connections. It’s possible some of them aren’t even aware they weren’t conceived the good old-fashioned way. But I’m going to have to tell them. They’re going to have to know. They deserve to know.”
Miles started to feel light-headed again. He closed his eyes briefly, took a few breaths. “I’m okay,” he said without being asked.
Gilbert’s brow was wrinkled. “Why? Why do they have to know? I mean, you got to this point in life without knowing. Things happen when they happen. Why do you feel you have to tell them? What’s driving this? I mean, okay, I know you’re sick. You’ve explained that. You have only so much time left. But why disrupt their lives this way?”
“I’d imagine some would want to know more about who they are, what they might be facing in the future.”
Gilbert did not appear convinced.
“But let me get to something else first,” Miles said. “I’ve set up something for you, for when I’m gone. A trust.”
“A trust? What do you mean, a trust? Don’t you set those up for kids before they come of age?”
“In a lot of cases, yes. But they can be used for more than that. You’ll get twenty thousand a month, or nearly a quarter million a year. And this car, of course, which you can sell if you want. It’s up to you.”
“Jesus, Miles, that’s... generous of you, but why... why parcel it out that way? I’m your brother. You’re worth... millions. You think I can’t handle... I mean, considering I’m... your only real family.”
Miles couldn’t look his brother in the eye. He stared, briefly, out the window, then looked down into his lap.
“Oh,” Gilbert said, his focus sharpening. “I get it.”
“Gilbert, please understand that—”
“It’s Caroline. This is all about Caroline.”
Miles caught his eye briefly. “Yes, it’s about Caroline.”
“Christ, Miles. I don’t know who should be more insulted. Her or me.”
“I don’t mean to insult you,” he said. “But... I think I have to be frank here, Gil. I know you, and I know Caroline. I’ve observed the... dynamic of your relationship from its outset. Anything I were to leave to you I’d really be leaving to Caroline. She’d be on that windfall like rats on a discarded pizza.”
“That’s not... that’s not fair. And could you have picked a more disgusting analogy?”
Miles hesitated, unsure whether to proceed. “I’ve never told you this story. I kept it to myself because I blamed myself. I have to hand it to Caroline. She’s enterprising. Remember when we had that reception here for that team from Google?”
Gilbert nodded. “It was a big event. With the tent set up at your place, lots of food and drink. You even got Chicago to play the gig.”
“Right. And Caroline came. She made a few contacts. Later, she approached one of the team, made a proposal to him for an app. Something that would allow a regular person, for free and with ease, to instantly check a person’s criminal record, credit history, everything. Perfect for checking out potential hires, or some guy you just met. Not the worst idea in the world, actually.”