“It’s all going to be okay, Love. I’m here for you and Little Love.”
He kept saying that. After barging into her apartment at Thanksgiving, he did his best to show her how happy he was with their baby growing inside of her.
They’d spent two days together in their own little bubble. It was time to tell their families. The front door opened and Bree’s heart skipped a beat.
Joan Ryan remained stoic at the sight of Declan and Bree holding hands on her porch. If she minded, she didn’t let it show. Joan motioned for them to come in. “Don’t just stand there. Come in.”
“Thanks,” Declan said as he brought his hand to Bree’s lower back and guided her inside.
“How long has it been that you’ve been in my home, Dec?” Joan asked as she walked in front of them into the living room.
Nothing had really changed in Bree’s old home. Joan sure loved her red carpets, red curtains and her recently bought ruby red couch. She’d kept the rest of her living room rustic but still warm of color with sandy tones.
Bree looked over to the grand windows looking over the backyard. The Mills’ tree house peeked over the hedge. Declan’s dad was next on their list to visit.
“Christmas Eve last year, I think. Yeah, it had to be Christmas Eve, because on Christmas Day, Bree went along with me to my old man.”
Bree stood uneasy next to the couch. When Joan went to grab drinks, Declan laughed at Bree. “You’re acting so weird right now,”
“What? I’m not acting weird. You are! Acting like nothing’s going on—”
“Are you sure you don’t want some coffee, dear?” Joan said as she walked back in with two coffees and a tea for Bree.
“No, tea is fine, thanks.”
After a few minutes of sitting awkwardly together, Joan asked, “Okay. So, are you finally together now?”
Bree’s cheeks flamed, and she looked over from the calculating eyes of her mom, over to Declan, who gave Bree a lopsided grin. He’d predicted this would happen.
She hadn’t been ready to give in to him then. How could she? It was all going too fast for her.
Bree cleared her throat and shifted to the edge of her seat. She placed her teacup on the table and rubbed the palms of her hands on her knees.
“Okay, so I called you today… ehm, yes… to tell you that…”
Sweat broke out on Bree’s back and she felt like fainting. She searched for Declan’s eyes and he took her hand in his.
“Girl, spit it out. What in the world is going on?” Joan’s fiery expression could match about ten Fianna’s—easily. How this woman could ever let her husband walk all over her had been the world's greatest mystery.
“Mom… I…”
“What?” Joan said. She cocked her head as she looked over from Bree’s teacup to Bree’s hand on her stomach. Joan narrowed her eyes at Declan.
“You did this to her? You got my baby pregnant? Why? Were you afraid she was finally over you? You needed to tie her to you?”
“Mom!” Bree gasped.
“Ma’am, you’re Bree’s mother,” he said calmly. “You’re going to be the grandmother of our child. But never, ever, repeat this shite if you want to be a part of my kid’s life.”
“Like you could stop me from seeing my grandchild!” Joan turned red and aggressively slid her black-rimmed glasses up her nose.
“Let me tell you something, Declan Mills. No man is ever going to tell me what to do. Ever again. How could I support this? You’re not even together? Or are you?”
Joan leaned forward in her seat and dismissed Declan entirely now. She looked at Bree.
“Haven’t you learned anything from me? From my mistakes? How could you be so stupid?”
“And we’re done here,” Declan said as he stood from the couch, pulling Bree up along with him.