Sixteen
Zach had adapted to his role as CEO of Ferguson Oil easily, sliding into the slot left for him by his father like he was meant to be there all along. Kind of made him wonder if he’d been avoiding his destiny when he left for Chicago.
Which kind of made him wonder if no matter what direction he ran, he would’ve still ended up right back here in this very position: father-to-be of a baby boy or girl.
The night he took Penelope home from the jazz club, he’d never considered that they might someday share a child. Shortsighted? A bit. Sex equaled babies for lots of couples. But he’d been in the habit of chasing his physical desires rather than worrying about outcomes.
He rubbed eyes that were crossing to center. When he reopened them, the spreadsheet on his computer screen blurred. He redirected his gaze to the wall clock to see it was past five; another day had gotten away from him.
His assistant patched through a call. “Mr. Ferguson, it’s the mayor on line three.”
“It’s Zach, and my brother’s name is Chase,” he reminded Sam, who insisted on the formality.
“Yes, sir,” Sam replied. “Will you be taking the mayor’s call?”
Zach shook his head at the futility and answered the line.
“Chase,” he said into the phone. “What’s up?”
“Were you planning on telling me about my niece or nephew?” came his brother’s terse question.
Zach’s eyes sank closed as he pressed his fingers into his eyelids. “Shit, Chase. I meant to tell you.”
What an oversight.
“You mean before my press conference where a reporter asked if I was expecting a baby because you and Penelope were spotted baby shopping over the weekend? Yeah. You should’ve told me.”
There was a twist neither Zach nor Pen had seen coming.
“The press assumed it was you who was having a baby?”
“Me and the woman on my arm at the charity event at our parents’ house. She’s a financial adviser and I offered to show her around.” Zach could tell by his brother’s grumbling that he was serious about the woman being an acquaintance. The mayor wasn’t into spur of the moment or temporary relationships. For Chase, every woman on his arm had a purpose, a reason for being there.
“That photo of us was supposed to pad our public announcement of the pregnancy, not start a rumor mill about you.”
He grunted at the irony. Chase was the star of the Ferguson show no matter what happened to any of them.
“Stefanie already knew.” Chase’s tone was clipped.
“Not on purpose. I let it slip and swore her to secrecy.”
“Mom and Dad. They know. She had to tell me.” Before Zach could make an excuse about how it’d been a busy week, his brother added, “What the hell are you doing?”
Zach straightened his back, on alert. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your engagement with Penelope Brand is fake. Or was anyway. Has that changed?” His brother believed that relationships had beginnings and endings that were mapped out ahead of time. But Zach didn’t have to think that way. He wasn’t the one who’d put his balls in the public sling.
“Not that I have to explain anything to you,” Zach told his brother, “but Pen was pregnant the night of your birthday party. We just didn’t know it at the time.”
Chase uttered a curse under his breath. “Are you planning on making it a real engagement to go along with your real future child?”
“What if I do?”
“Then I suggest you consider how long you want to keep this up.”
Off his chair, Zach felt his blood pressure rise. “Come again?”
“You’re not the only one involved, Zach. You’ll have a child soon and you can’t marry Pen because it sounds fun. The stakes are sky-high.”