“Grandma! Grandpa! We’re here!” she shouts, nearly tripping as she hugs my father’s legs. “And we brought cherry cobbler! Mommy lied and told Daddy she made it, but we really picked it up from the bakery.”
I cover my mouth to mask my snort.
Finn chuckles.
“Hey!” Faith says as she and Brian join us. “We need to work on your snitching, kid.”
I squeeze my belly, grateful for their appearance, saving me from the possible awkward moment of my mother asking questions I don’t want to answer. I have yet to decide how I’ll break the news. Finn asked me on the drive here, but I told him I was still working on it.
“It might be best for you to fill me in, though,” Finn commented.
“I’ll send you a text,” I told him.
“What?” he stuttered. “We’re going to discuss the plan via text in front of them?”
We went back and forth until he agreed to just wing it.
Last night, I’d thought I had the perfect plan—tell them right before leaving and then make a dash to my car. It would stop a face-to-face conversation. Everyone knows there isn’t a more stressful conversation than one in person.
Give me a phone call.
A text.
Easy-peasy.
Looking someone in the eyes while speaking about something sensitive?
Hard stuff.
To master that plan, I first have to sit through dinner and manage to keep my mouth shut.
“No wine?”
I nearly drop my glass at my mother’s question.
We just sat down for dinner, and I declined my mother’s offer for a glass of wine. Her eyes widened when I said I was sticking with water for tonight. Like with my friends, that’s a sure sign something is off. My mom would’ve definitely expected at least a glass from me, given I just brought a new man home.
Everyone’s eyes are on me.
This is the moment I realize I suck at secrets.
“I’m pregnant.”
All I hear is my mother’s glass shattering to the tiles.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Finn
I told Grace it was a mistake not to have a Telling Them You’re Pregnant plan, but she said she wouldn’t know until the time came. Us deciding on a strategy would’ve stopped the slight armpit rings hidden by the dark color of my shirt and would’ve stopped the ache in my throat that’s been there since we got into my car.
Knowing Grace, I was certain she couldn’t hold in the news all night until we left.
I at least thought she’d make it past dinner.
My heart gallops in my chest. It’s been doing that since the moment I walked into the Mitchells’ home.
Not only because I was meeting them for the first time.
Scratch that. I was only meeting her mom for the first time.
I was certain her dad recognized me—just what I’d been afraid of.
I’ve fucked up in my life, but every mistake I’ve made, I learned from.
I’ve changed.
But no matter what, I’m my father’s son.
And that motherfucking sucks.
Brian scoots out his chair and grabs the glass from the floor.
“It’s fine,” Tyra rushes out, stopping him. “Just leave it.”
Her voice is shaky. Her face pales.
Everyone, even Raven, is quiet, waiting on her parents’ reaction.
Brian ignores her request, snags the shattered pieces, and places them on the table. He pours her another glass. Tyra grabs it, chugs down the wine, and pours herself another.
Moving my attention from her, I focus on Gregory.
He clears his throat. “I take it, you’re the father?” Like before, his face is unreadable.
Does anyone ever know what this man is thinking?
No.
That’s probably why he’s so good at his job.
“I sure hope so,” Tyra cries out, gaping at me.
Grace pays me a quick glance and nods. “He is.”
I wonder how well they know their daughter.
There’s more than nervousness in Grace’s tone.
She’s not a good liar, and had I not known the situation, I’d have known she was lying.
I lower my hand under the table and capture hers, giving it a squeeze of assurance that I have her back, no matter what.
We’ve got this.
“I am,” I repeat, my voice clear and controlled.
Tyra’s gaze whips to Faith. “Did you know your sister was pregnant?”
“Yes,” Faith says with a shrug. “I think it’s amazing.” She motions toward me with her wineglass. “Finn is a good guy, and I think they’ll make great parents.”
I am a big Faith fan.
She and Brian are good people.
Tyra gasps. Obviously, she has a flair for the dramatic.
She stares at Faith, stunned. “You knew and didn’t tell us?”
Faith lifts the glass to her lips and says into it, “Not my news to tell.”
“Does that mean Aunt Grace has a baby in her belly?” Raven asks, chomping on a dinner roll.
“It sure does,” Faith replies.
Raven jumps out of her seat. “Can I see?”
Faith catches her arm before Raven passes her. “I don’t think so. Aunt Grace will show you her belly another time.”
Raven pouts while returning to her seat. “You promise, Aunt Grace?”
Grace’s lower lip trembles as she nods. “Yes.”
The herb-roasted chicken gets neglected as a result of the news.
The questions start.
All coming from Tyra and none from Gregory.
He throws in comments, but no drilling comes from him.
I wish I could climb into his brain and figure out what the fuck he’s thinking.
We tell them we started dating a few months ago.
The pregnancy wasn’t planned.
I plan on being there for her.
Tyra questions if we’re getting married, but luckily, Faith asks a question to detour us away from that conversation. When Tyra tries to go back to the subject, Grace tells her we’re focused on the baby at the moment. I gulp, wanting to tell them that I’d marry Grace tomorrow if she’d have me. But Grace is taking the lead, and I’m only speaking when absolutely necessary.
We explain how we’ve been friends for years.
By the time dinner is over, I’m exhausted.
Tyra seems more comfortable now that she’s better informed. In fact, she seems excited about having another grandchild.
Tyra asks Grace and Faith to help her in the kitchen, and I use that moment to go to the bathroom. I’m in need of a moment alone before my head explodes. On my way back to the dining room, I admire the home, passing expensive artwork, a curved staircase, and a billiard room.
“Finn.”
I turn suddenly at the sound of my name to find Gregory standing inches from me. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, and unease lines his features as we stare each other down.
His staredown isn’t one of intimidation.
It’s more along the lines of wanting to know what the fuck I’m planning to do with his daughter.
“Let’s talk.” A harsh sigh leaves him before he jerks his head toward an open door.
I nod. “All right.”