Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2)(17)

I sigh, loudly. "Fine."





8





Kyle





"Explain to me why I have to go to brunch? In your sister’s clothing? That's not weird at all, by the way. Not at all."

We're in the elevator at my residence and Daisy hasn't stopped complaining for the entirety of the descent to the lobby. Forty floors. Thankfully, we're alone. The elevator did make a stop on the thirty-second floor. A guy I've seen a few times in the gym took one look at Daisy—who was in the midst of one of her hostile jazz hand displays—before stepping back with a small head nod to me as if to say, Best of luck, buddy. I'll catch the next elevator.

"Because we need to eat and last night’s dress isn't brunch-appropriate. And because one of us fell asleep at a quarter past ten before we had a chance to discuss our predicament."

"Because one of us is pregnant. It's exhausting. And we're not in a predicament. It's the twenty-first century and as I've just explained to you, I've got this covered. I don't need you."

Huh.

Not needed.

"I could do with less of your attitude, Daisy," I mutter as the elevator finally reaches the lobby. I've never noticed before how many words could be crammed into that descent.

"We all have our crosses to bear, Kyle. The point is, I was only trying to locate you in order to notify you. I don't need anything. I'm quite capable, all on my own."

"I know. You thought you'd notify me and bounce. Because it's the polite thing to do," I remind her of what she said yesterday when she so articulately explained her reasons for crashing the party posing as my fiancée.

"That is correct," she agrees, her chin tilted up in defiance.

I stare at her for a moment, wondering what this would be like if it weren't so complicated. This situation. Me. Us.

We exit my building onto Walnut and I guide Daisy with a hand on her lower back toward 19th. It's a two-block walk, 19th over to Samson Street to my regular Sunday brunch spot. The Dandelion is a British pub tucked into an old brick building in the heart of downtown Philadelphia. It's got the requisite bar inside, a big vintage piece complete with a wall covered with liquor bottles behind. But the rest of the place is filled with scratched-up wooden tables and mismatched chairs. Aged photos of English hunting dogs haphazardly hung over red leather banquet seats tucked into corners.

It's comfortable, and Gigi loves it. She's already here, along with Kerrigan, seated at a brightly lit table complete with a window seat framed by heavy floral drapes.

The moment Daisy spots Kerrigan she freezes, her steps faltering. I may have forgotten to mention we weren't dining alone. Or neglected to mention it. Semantics.

"That's my grandmother with Kerrigan. My mother's mother," I murmur into her ear as I grasp her hand and tug her in their direction.

"You can't be serious." She tugs back on her hand but I've got a firm hold and I'm not letting go.

"I'm definitely serious," I tell her as Gigi and Kerrigan notice our arrival and then everyone is standing and hugging.

"Kerrigan mentioned you had news," my grandmother enthuses while grasping Daisy in a tight hug. "I'm so thrilled for you, Kyle!" She steps back allowing Daisy to breathe. "Aren't you lovely? No wonder Kyle is so taken with you."

Daisy blinks rapidly like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. Blink, blink. A glance to me then back at my grandmother. Blink, blink.

"You'll call me Gigi," my grandmother tells her without missing a beat. "It's what Kyle and Kerrigan call me." Daisy nods, and repeats the name back to her, then exhales and glances at me again.

"Let's sit," I suggest before Daisy decides to bolt. I take a quick glance at her to make sure she's okay, because she looks a little pale. I'm not sure if it's due to nerves or morning sickness, suddenly remembering how quickly she went from fine to vomiting last night. She sits in the window seat and I slide in next to her, Gigi and Kerrigan taking the chairs across from us.

There's a brief moment of silence as we sit, followed by an interruption from the waitress offering coffee. Daisy declines and looks as if she's doing her best to disappear behind the menu.

Apparently she's only good at faking it when she's in charge.

Unfortunately for her, that time has passed.

"Sweetheart." I wrap an arm around her, caressing her upper arm in what is sure to look like a loving embrace. "Look, they have your favorite, eggs Benedict." I have no idea if she likes eggs Benedict or not, but neither does my family and appearing to know about each other is a nice touch to a fake engagement.

She huffs, in that way she does that could be an exhale but I know means she's irritated. Then she places her hand on my thigh and turns her head slightly in my direction. Her lips curve and her eyes sparkle. But I can see the challenge behind her gaze.

"But they also have my other favorite, French toast. With fancy vanilla whipped cream." She leans in, just a bit closer, playing her part and adding, "Darling," after a slight pause.

Then she repeats the loving caress I gave her arm. On my thigh. Her warm hand runs a pattern of circles closer and closer to my dick, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip as she winks at me. I remove her hand from my leg before I get a fucking hard-on in front of my sister and grandmother, bringing it to my lips and kissing the back. Then I keep it firmly tucked in mine so she can't do any more damage.