Reparation (The Kane Trilogy, #3)(56)

“Promise me you'll be here when I come back,” he breathed against her, resting his forehead to hers.

“I promise.”

Note he never said anything about later ...



*



Jameson was only gone for two days. Long enough to slap Petrushka with so many lawsuits, her management team was spinning in circles. A cease and desist was first and foremost. She could not talk about him in connection with her pregnancy, or she would be sued. But that didn't really matter, because there was nothing he could do about the media. He was requesting a paternity test, to see if she was telling the truth. She was fighting it. That one would take a bit longer.

Requesting a paternity test to see IF it's true. Requesting proof to prove that it IS true. Doesn't sounds like he's as positive as he likes to pretend ...

Jameson was wary of her. Eyeing Tate as if she was going to explode at any minute. Fair assumption to make. She teased him and laughed at him about the whole thing. Even Sanders looked at her like she was a little crazy.

“Do you want me to freak out? I mean, it can be arranged,” she laughed one day. Jameson put his forearms on his desk.

“I want you to be truthful,” he insisted. She swallowed thickly.

“I don't think either of us is ready for that right now. Later,” she replied. And he nodded.

Petrushka even called one day. That was some awesome icing on the cake. Tate answered his phone. Syrupy sweet German words dripped down the line, laced in venom. Tate just shrugged and handed the phone over to Jameson. He looked astounded at her for a minute, then like he was going to strangle the phone in the next. He called Petrushka so many impressive names, Tate almost thought it was foreplay.

Maybe it is.

The final straw came a couple days after he had gotten back. Everyone had settled into the library for a nice, awkward evening of not speaking to each other, when Tate's cell phone started ringing. It was Ang. She hadn't told him about everything that had gone down. She answered the phone, worried that he would hear it in her voice.

“Hey, how are -,” she started.

“It's time.”

“Huh?” she asked.

“Ellie. Having the baby. Driving to the hospital,” he spat out. Tate leapt out of her seat.

“But she's got like another month, or something!” she yelled.

“I know. Apparently no one told the baby. Get down here.”

She was halfway out the door when Jameson stopped her.

“What the fu-ck is going on?” he demanded. She laughed, hopping into a shoe.

“Apparently the whole fu-cking world is having a baby, not just your girlfriend. Ellie's in labor.”

She really didn't want him there, but he had become like her shadow. Afraid to let her out of his sight. He insisted on going with her, so Sanders drove them both to the hospital. When Tate got to the waiting area, Ang was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands.

“She called you?” Tate asked, hurrying up to his side. He looked up at her.

“She was actually at my place. She had left some stuff, from before, and had come to get it all. We were just kinda chatting, whatever, you know, stuff, and she went into labor. fu-cking scared the shit out of me,” he breathed. Tate laughed.

“'Stuff'!? Ang, were you two getting it on?” she asked. He groaned.

“I'm scarred for life.”

Normally, a first time birth took hours. Not Ellie Carmichael. That baby wanted out, and it wanted out now. Ellie didn't want anyone in the room while it happened, her modesty was firmly in place. Tate wasn't exactly surprised. What did surprise her, though, was seeing her mother and father strolling down the hallway.

“fu-ck,” she whispered under her breath. Jameson went to hold her hand, and without thinking, she yanked away from his touch. He cut his eyes to hers, but before he could saying anything, her father was upon them.

“Kane. Surprised to see you here,” Mathias O'Shea barked out. Her father did not look happy to see them – the last time they had parted ways, Jameson had said some very choice words. But money talked, and Jameson had more of it than her father. Mr. O'Shea knew when to eat shit.

“Yes. Tatum got the phone call, we came straight here,” Jameson stood up, shaking hands with the other man. Her father didn't even look at her. Tate glanced at her mother, who appeared to be swaying. Classy.

“Ah, yes. Tatum. You two are still ...,” her father grumbled. Tate was tempted to shout 'fu-cking', but Jameson beat her to it.

“Yes. We just got back from an extended vacation in Spain, last month,” Jameson filled in.

Not dating. Not together. Just got back. So perfect.

“Been a long time now. I never thought you'd put up with -,” her father started.

“Yes, it has been a long time. And time well spent.”

The innuendo was not lost on anyone. Tatum dropped her head into her hands.

She wondered how her life had gotten to that point. Jameson Kane on one side of her. Her father on the other. Neither of them speaking to her. Her feeling small. Insignificant. A mistake. That's what she felt like; like one big mistake. It was horrible.

“Tate,” Jameson suddenly said. She glanced over to find him staring at her. “I want you to know, I meant -,”

“Is there a Tatum here?” an important looking nurse shouted out. Tate leapt to her feet.