Hudson(45)

“I am. That’s why I’m here. Now it’s your turn to take responsibility for your actions.” She pointed a finger at me. “And tell me what we’re going to do.”

“What we’re going to do? This is not my problem.” But I already knew it was. Not just because of the reason she’d given, but because this affected my family. Affected my life. It didn’t mean I knew what should be done about it.

Celia straightened. “Then I’ll take it to your father. I’m sure he’ll step up. He’ll have no choice when I get a DNA test.” Again laying her power card. She straightened and started toward the door.

I could have let her go. It would serve Jack right.

But Jack wasn’t the only person who would suffer from this. And Celia knew it.

I pounded the wall behind me with a fist. “Fuck.” Forget Christina as a good partner. Celia had manipulation down to a science. “What do you want from me?”

She flung her arms out to the side in exasperation. “I want you to tell me what to do!”

It was almost funny. As if we were a real couple discussing their unplanned pregnancy. The situation had much that would intrigue me under normal circumstances.

I banged my head against the wall behind me. “What are our options?” I scolded myself for using the word our. It gave her too much power, thinking of us as a partnership.

“Well.” She returned to lean against the counter again. She needed the support, I realized. The conversation was tough. I’d give her that. “I’m not having an abortion. I might have been able to, but I saw the ultrasound. I saw its heartbeat. I can’t do that.”

“So no abortion.” I was glad for that, actually. It didn’t feel right sentencing my unborn sibling to death.

My sibling. Jesus, was this really happening?

“I’m not opposed to adoption.” She talked as if she’d already been through all of this on her own—and she probably had. For me, though, it was new and there was a lot to take in. A lot of different aspects of the situation to absorb.

“My mom will want to keep it.” She let out a single chortle. “Can you just see my mother as a doting grandmother? Either way, my parents will want to know who the father is. My father would kill me if he knew.”

“More like he’d kill my father if he knew.” My father was Warren’s friend. And he’d knocked up his daughter.

Celia sighed. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be good for either one of us.”

“It would destroy my mother.” Not just my mother. “And my brother and sister.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “I can’t tell him it’s Jack.”

She was right. That much was clear.

And there was only one thing I could think of to make sure that information never came out. “You’ll tell him it’s me.” I set my jaw. “Tell him I’m the father.”

“What?” She lifted her head as if in surprise, but something about her tone was false. “Are you really…would you really do that?” It was more gleeful than hopeful. More triumphant than incredulous.

“Now you’re the one pretending.” I could read her like a book. “You came to me because you knew I’d offer. Don’t even f**king try to convince me you didn’t plan this.”

“I hoped,” she whispered. “Not that I’d get pregnant. But after I did, I hoped you’d offer.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere.” I leaned back, bracing myself on the wall as I rocked back on my heels. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll say it’s mine.” I worked it out as I spoke. “You can finish this semester. Come back at Christmas and I’ll go with you to the parenting classes or whatever. I’ll play the supportive sperm donor. If you choose to keep it, I’ll set up a trust fund or something. Dad’s money will be my money anyway when I take over the company.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “What about fathering?”

“You want me to have a relationship with it?”

“Don’t talk like it’s a stranger. It will be your brother or sister.”

“Right.” I’d already realized that, but my stomach dropped at the reminder. And since it really was my sibling, could I just abandon any contact with it? If it were Chandler or Mirabelle, I would want to be involved. Even in my own cold, stoic way. “Sure. Fine. Minimal relationship though. I don’t want custody. But that also means I get to help make parenting decisions. Are you going to be okay with that?”

She shrugged as she shook her head. Then said, “I’ll be okay with whatever.” Her eyes glazed like she was overwhelmed. “I don’t even know if I’m keeping it yet.”

Another thought crossed my mind. “I’m not marrying you, Celia.” I straightened to show my seriousness. “This in no way makes us a couple.”

She looked at me with stark unbelief. “I never thought for a moment it did.” But her tone was layered with the subtext of our past. Of a time when she would have wanted exactly that from me. “Nor would I ever expect it. You, I’ve discovered, are incapable of anything remotely like a relationship.”




Perhaps she’d meant to hurt me with her statement. She didn’t. She’d made our new situation easier. I looked her straight in the eye. “I’m glad you know.”