After Dark (The Night Owl Trilogy #3)(33)

“Can we talk for a moment?” I whispered.

“Sure.” He gazed at me evenly.

“In … private?”

My sister spooned yogurt into her mouth and watched us. The Matt and Hannah Show.

“Why? Aren’t we supposed to be getting things out in the open?” He gestured to our tiny living/family room.

“Fine,” I muttered. Apparently I should have prepped him for this conversation. “The thing is, Chrissy isn’t sure”—I smiled apologetically at her—“she wants to keep it yet.”

Matt scowled. “Could we avoid that phrase? ‘Keep it.’ Sounds so f*cking inhumane. ‘It’? Is it a boy or a girl?”

“She’s only eight weeks. We don’t know yet.”

“Well, then.” He stood and paced beside Laurence’s hutch. The rabbit, who was as sensitive to Matt’s moods as I was, darted into a corner. “I don’t see why we can’t be prepared for the possibility”—oh boy, Matt was getting irritated—“that she might want to have the child. I bought you some groceries.” He addressed Chrissy, ignoring me now. “Frozen salmon filets, some whole grain bread and cereal. You need eggs in your diet. I read about it.”

My mouth hung open, jaw unhinged.

Matt … researched pregnancy? Bought food for my sister?

And, oh my God, was he against abortion? No f*cking way. We had to talk—about a lot of things. Why the hell did we never talk?

“Thanks,” said Chrissy. “I am actually…” She popped a blueberry into her mouth. “Going to have it. I mean, the baby.” She cleared her throat.

Matt shot a look at me. An “I told you so” kind of look.

“Seth called me,” Chrissy went on. “He wants to take a paternity test, be a part of things.”

“What?” Matt and I spoke in unison.

“He is a part of things already.” Chrissy lifted her chin.

“You are not to speak to him.” Matt advanced, towering over my sister. She folded her arms across her stomach. His eyes widened. Holy shit. I couldn’t be sure what I was seeing, but Matt seemed more than concerned for the baby. He seemed almost … proprietary.

“I’ll do what I want. You can’t railroad over me.” My sister gave him a saucy look.

I leapt off the couch and hugged him from behind. Chrissy didn’t know that look on his face, that tension in his arms. I knew. He was about to blow.

“Just who do you think will be paying for this child?” He spat the words. “Paying your exorbitant medical bills. Providing you with housing if your parents kick you out. Day care. Food. Schooling. We will, you ungrateful little—”

“Matt!” I tried to tug him away from Chrissy. He was a monolith, rooted to the rug.

“Seth has plenty of money,” she sniped.

“Seth is on drugs.” Matt trembled in my arms. “He was coked up like a f*cking whore in broad daylight last weekend. I almost drowned the weaselly son of a bitch.”

Oh … my … God. Matt getting angry was like Matt getting horny. Crazy unpredictable.

“Please,” I whispered. “Stop.”

Chrissy darted away, heading for the door. “He does drugs socially. Rarely.”

“Ah, of course.” Matt followed Chrissy. I clung ineffectually to his arm. “That makes it quite all right. A father who does drugs socially, rarely. You do that, too? I wouldn’t be surprised. Have you already subjected that poor child to substances? Are you going to be a single mother working at a strip club? You’re well on your way to trashiest parents of the year.”

“Fuck you! I’ve never done coke”—Chrissy’s eyes flickered to me, then back to Matt—“and I’m sorry if you’re f*cking sensitive about that topic.”

“Chrissy!” My voice went shrill. Had Seth told her about our hookup? Was she seriously throwing me under the bus right now? I did do a line that night. One line. The first and the last.

Matt stilled. The muscles in his arms relaxed, which somehow frightened me more than his tension.

“Get out.” His voice was murderously low.

My sister’s insolence faded in a heartbeat; she shrank against the door.

“G-gladly.” She glanced at me and flushed. “See why I didn’t want to tell him? Get your psycho boyfriend under control. God.”

She scurried out of the condo.

The door slammed and I sagged against it.

Who should I follow? Matt, or my sister?

My heart pummeled against my ribs.

Matt returned to the couch and sat there, posed like “The Thinker.” His gaze strayed restively over the area rug. I went to him.

“I’m … sorry,” I said, unsure why I said it. I perched beside him and rubbed his shoulders. “That didn’t go as planned…”

Mmph, I could almost feel Matt thinking about the Four Seasons scene: me doing a line, my hand around Seth’s— “The hell with her,” he said.

I pulled back.

“What? She was embarrassed, Matt. Defensive. You laid into her.”

“I laid into her?” He gave me an incredulous look. “She … she—”

“She’ll come around. Let me talk to her.”