matter.”
“It did in my family.” It came out in a whisper, something almost like a secret. And each word hurt.
He glanced over at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road as they drove west toward his home. “Be clearer for me.”
She smoothed the skirt of her dress, wrinkled beyond recognition after being crumpled into a hospital bag during her exam. If only she could smooth over her past as easily. This was knowledge she carried every day. Knowledge that ate at her and had her entire lifetime. “A line of girls was always cause for concern in my home. The monarchy is technically inactive, but even so there is no provision for a female ruler. There are no male heirs. I am afraid...”
“Oh, no. No way in hell is anyone taking my children away.” His brow furrowed, anger simmering in his eyes, the joyous warmth gone.
“Our children. These are our children.” She felt all the same protective instincts he did, and she felt them with a mother’s fierce love.
“And we can’t afford to forget for even a moment how important it is that we work together for the children. If there’s a chance we can have more than a bicoastal parenting relationship, don’t you think it’s worth figuring that out as soon as possible?” The look he gave her was pointed. Sharp.
But Erika wasn’t about to back down. She hadn’t decided how to handle whatever was between them. And that meant she had to think a bit more. She wouldn’t be rash and impulsive. One of them had to think through their actions.
“I will let you know when I schedule my doctor visit. I will want to visit the doctor again before returning home.”
He scowled. “Can we not talk about you leaving? We’re still settling details.”
“You know I do not live here.” New Orleans was lovely, with its vibrant history, loud colors and live music that seemed to drift up from every street corner. But it was not home. Not that she really knew where home was these days...
“One day at a time. And today we are dealing with a big change, the reality of two children. I know that happens. I just never expected...” His voice trailed, his words ebbing with emotion.
“I have twin sisters.” She had always envied them their closeness, like having a built-in best friend from birth. “Twins—how do you say?—walk in my family.”
“Run in your family. Okay.”
She blinked at him, filing away the turn of English phrasing that brought a funny image to her mind of twins sprinting through her family tree. This was all happening so fast, she’d never stopped to consider the possibility of twins. There was so much to figure out still. “My oldest sister also has twin girls. I should have considered this possibility but I have been so overwhelmed since I realized I was expecting.”
“Thank you for coming to tell me so soon.” He covered her hand on the center console. “I appreciate that you didn’t delay.”
“You are the father. You deserve to know that.” Erika lifted her chin up, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at him. He was a good man. She knew that much.
“We’re going to make this work.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back, then the inside of her wrist over her rapidly beating pulse.
The press of his mouth to her skin was warm and arousing, stirring memories of their weekend together. The air crackled between them now as it had then. Her emotions were already in turmoil after the scare at the game. She ached to move closer, to feel his arms around her. To have those lips on her body again. Everywhere. Arousing her to such heights her head spun at the thought. How quickly she could simply lose herself in what he could make her feel.
But doing so would take away any chance of objectivity. And now she had twice the reason to tread carefully into the future.
* * *
The silver stain of moonlight washed over the lake. The water was restless. Frothy. Uneasy. A lot like the restlessness inside Gervais. But he had to pull it together in order to make this phone call.
He thumbed through his phone, finding his father in his contact list. How long had it been since they’d spoken? Months, no doubt. The bright screen blared at him.
He knew he had to call him about Erika’s pregnancy. Theo was in Paris for the week with his latest girlfriend. Which was, in some ways, fortunate. This way, Gervais had gotten to talk to Erika privately before his father had a chance at royally screwing the dynamic up.
But it also meant he had to make this call. Which was something he never looked forward to doing. Years of neglect and dysfunction had their way of clinging to their current relationship. Another lesson of how not to treat children brought to you by Theo Reynaud. Dear old dad loved football and his family, but not as much as romancing women.
Before he could think better of it, Gervais pressed Send on the screen. Feeling the pinch of nerves, he poured himself a glass of bourbon from the pool-deck bar, staring at where a few kids messed around with a stand-up paddleboard. Beyond them, the lights of gambling boats winked in the distance and even farther behind those he could see the bridge that spanned the lake.
Gervais wasn’t sure why he felt the need to talk to his dad other than doing him the courtesy of making sure he didn’t hear via the grapevine. Discretion wasn’t Theo’s strong suit. But if Gervais spun the news just right, maybe he could keep a lid on it a bit longer. Erika would appreciate that.
And tonight making Erika relaxed and happy felt like the first priority on a quickly shifting list in his life. But knowing that she carried his children had brought things into sharp focus for him today.
“Hello, son.” His father’s graveled voice shot through the receiver, yanking him from his thoughts.
Might as well cut to the chase.
“Dad, you’re going to be a grandfather.”
“About damn time. Damn shame Henri is still carrying a grudge and didn’t tell me himself. The divorce was a long time ago.”
In the background of the call, the sound of violin music and muted chatter combined with the clink of glasses. The sounds of a bar scene.
Gervais ignored the mention of his parents’ dysfunctional marriage. “Henri and Fiona aren’t expecting. I’m the one about to make you a gramps.”
News about the twins could wait. One step at a time. He was still reeling from that news himself.
“With who? You didn’t knock up some groupie looking for a big payoff from the family?” His voice crackled through the phone from across the Atlantic.
“Dad, that’s your gig. Not mine.” And just like that, he was on the defensive. Gervais was not his father. He would never be like his father. And the fact that his father thought he had that in his nature sent him reeling.
“No need to be disrespectful.” Bells chimed in the background of the call, an unmistakable sound of a slot machine in payoff mode.
So much for keeping the subject of his parents’ divorce off the table. “You destroyed your marriage with your affairs. You ignored your own sons for years. I lost respect for you a long time ago.”
