Would a woman in love say that?
Perhaps she’s suffering from some kind of…love-induced madness. Love makes people do unreasonable, illogical things, things that are often against their own interests. Not only that, pregnancy hormones are pumping through her veins. Regardless of what she said, I’m convinced she’s expecting. Otherwise, there was no reason to buy the pregnancy test kit in the first place. Besides, now that I think about it, every word out of her mouth and her evasive behavior indicated she isn’t just pregnant, but pregnant with my child. Otherwise she would have just told me it was her fiancé’s baby. And why else would she have used a word like “problem” to describe her engagement?
Bitter disappointment and rage bubble in my gut, and I clamp down on both. Hard. It’s ludicrous for me to feel these emotions. It isn’t as though I care about her. It’d be illo
gical for me to do so. I haven’t known her long enough. Fun and sex are not solid foundations for matrimony.
Since marriage is out of the question… I exhale harshly, my hands flexing around the steering wheel.
I’ll sort things out with her tomorrow—let her know I plan to provide acceptable child support so she doesn’t have to be solely responsible for what we both created. I’ll also be involved in the child’s life as much as possible. My child will never know what it’s like to have a parent who doesn’t care about it.
Then, once the situation with Jo is settled, I’ll return to Tempérane. We’ll keep contact to a minimum. I can hire a reliable nanny to bring the child to Louisiana when it’s my turn, then take the child back to Los Angeles when it’s her turn. A practical solution. Clean. I can arrange for a first-tier private preschool as well. The child will never lack opportunities, regardless of Jo and her soon-to-be husband’s financial circumstances.
A vise clenches around my chest at the picture the plan creates. Furious dissatisfaction thrums in my veins. I breathe in slow and deep. It’s got to be the stress. The damn business. Fighting with Dad over the future of Blackwood Energy. That and trying to figure out how I’m going to stop him from reuniting with Mom. This isn’t about Jo. Or the baby. Or Jo’s engagement.
I go through the gates to Tony’s mansion, using the passcode he gave me, then park my car in the driveway. I notice a Maserati: Court’s car. Is he here, too?
Damn it. He’s going to want to know how I’m doing and why I’m in Los Angeles. Bad enough I’m going to lie to one brother; now I’ll have to do it to both.
I’m enormously tempted to turn around and find a hotel, but I don’t.
Tony hides his shock well when he finds me on the doorstep. Ivy, on the other hand, does not hide her reaction at all.
“Edgar…! What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Tempérane?”
“Just…” I pause and search for an acceptable term. “A personal matter.” Jo and my baby in her womb definitely qualify.
“Come on in. We’re having a late dinner,” Tony says. “Court and Pascal are here.”
They lead me to the dining room, where, sure enough, my youngest brother and his fiancée are at the table, divvying up some takeout food. Like Tony, Court resembles Mom in his appearance, except for his hair, which is dark like Dad’s. Thankfully, Court didn’t get any of her temperament or judgment. Because of Dad’s relentless insistence, Court is in charge of Blackwood Energy’s charitable foundation, which he can do while living in L.A. He doesn’t want to move back home, where good memories are so few. So far Dad has let him be because Dad thinks Court will eventually do what’s right—that is, devote himself to the family business and furthering our reputation and influence.
But I doubt that’s ever going to happen, because Pascal lives in L.A. and she’s the new anchor in his life. She’s a pretty enough brunette, but that isn’t the main reason Court likes her. The woman has a sharp mind and an emotional warmth that I don’t believe Court experienced until he met her.
Pascal favors me with a bright smile. “Hello, Edgar. Good to see you! How’s life?”
“I’m doing well. And you? My brother still treating you like a queen?”
“Of course I am. And don’t even think about offering to set her up with someone who’ll treat her like an empress,” Court warns me with a baleful look. He wasn’t too thrilled with my joking offer last time, and I guess he’s still holding a slight grudge.
But he gets up and we exchange a brotherly hug, slapping each other’s backs. He hits me with a little more force than necessary.
“Hope you’re in the mood for Thai,” Tony says. “If not, we can order something else for you.”
“Thai is fine.” I don’t have much appetite anyway. I turn to Ivy. “Are you okay to eat this? It isn’t going to upset your stomach?”
“Actually, it was my idea,” Ivy says, patting her bump. “I’ve been dying for some green curry and pad thai.” She licks her lips as Tony pulls out a chair for her.
We all sit down. Court is giving me a curious “so what are you really doing in L.A.?” look. My brothers know that, much as I love them, running Blackwood Energy keeps me busy, and I don’t stop by unannounced without a reason.
I ignore Court, not wanting to discuss the Jo situation when we’re just about to eat. Tony concentrates on his food, content to wait for an explanation.
Pascal takes a sip of her tea, then clears her throat. “So, Ivy, when is the baby shower?”
“I’m not sure yet. Yuna’s insisting on hosting it herself. Probably soon, though,” Ivy says.
“I thought she was on the run from her mom?” Or so I remember hearing the last time I was in the city. On the other hand, she’s a clever girl. So perhaps she’ll find some sneaky way to host it anyway.
“I think they’ll come to some sort of understanding,” Ivy says. “Her mom knows she can’t make Yuna marry someone she doesn’t want. It’s only going to make Yuna pull away more.”