Hudson nodded and leaned back against the railing. A light breeze tousled his hair. “Right. But it feels like there’s always something else. Their car breaks down, they need a new one. Or my brother needs help, too—his kids need school clothes, or medicine because they’re sick, or he doesn’t have the money to get them stuff for Christmas.” He smiled, clearly remembering something. “My nephews are really cool kids. I want them to have fun birthdays and Christmases. So I’m happy to help out.” He shrugged and took a sip of his port.

Annika wondered how to phrase the next question. She knew she had to step delicately. “But when … when do you stop? When will it be enough, what you’re doing?”

Hudson looked down into his glass. It sparkled under the muted lights of the deck. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked in the night. “I don’t know. I ask myself that sometimes. And the answer I always come up with is never. My parents never gave up on me, and I can’t ever stop the pace at which I’m making money, either.”

Annika stood in silence, listening to the wind whisper in the trees. “But?” she asked finally, when Hudson didn’t fill the space.

He let out a deep, heavy sigh and tipped his head back to look at the dark sky. “But you’re right. I do have doubts. The way I think about it—about never being able to stop—might be untenable. And the way I’m supporting them by running Break Up … the entire thing chills me to the core. The people who employ our services, like that guy we saw in the bar after the Early to Tech event. The men who clap my back and thank me for making it easy to juggle multiple women and then toss them aside when they’re done. The businesspeople I’m always meeting with, with their slick, slimy smiles and their ingratiating compliments. I know they’d be gone the instant my financial situation faltered. The journalists who want to know if I think the future of relationships is a game of survival—who gets to use up whom first, who gets to do the discarding. The thing is, I’m sick of it all. This is not who I—this is not how I pictured my life. This can’t last. I can’t be the face of Break Up forever. I don’t have the passion for it that you do for Make Up.” He pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Sorry. That was a lot of information. It’s not something I really like to talk about, so I’m not sure what happened.”