by Tina Folsom
“She said it was the food,” he said numbly.
“There was nothing wrong with the food.”
Could it be possible? He tried to think back through the last few days and remembered that the night they’d had pizza, Holly had refused alcohol too. Nor had she had any on the boat, when he knew from the wedding they’d both attended over two months earlier that she enjoyed a good glass of wine as well as other spirits. And when she and Sabrina had left the boat because Sabrina had felt sick, he thought he’d heard Holly say to her friend that she too had felt a little queasy. He’d dismissed it at the time as Holly simply wanting to make her friend feel better by telling her that she wasn’t bothered about leaving the boat because of Sabrina’s illness.
But did that mean that Holly was pregnant? If it was true, then who was the father?
“But we used condoms.”
Mirabelle threw her head back and laughed. “Do you know how many babies I delivered in the forty-two years I worked as a midwife where the parents had used condoms?” She shook her head. “No form of contraceptive is a hundred percent foolproof, least of all condoms.”
Which meant he had to find out whether Holly was truly pregnant, and if she was, how far along. Because if Mirabelle was right that Holly was still in her first trimester, then there was a chance that he, Paul, was the father.
25
Paul adjusted his bow tie. Why did his parents have to insist on formal wear at their anniversary party? He would be one of the few people looking like a penguin at a beach. Not that this was his biggest problem right now.
For the last couple of days he’d been observing Holly very closely. Mirabelle was right. Holly hadn’t consumed a single sip of alcohol and always made excuses if somebody offered her a glass. But it wasn’t the only thing he’d noticed. While Holly sported no pregnancy bump, her breasts seemed fuller than when he’d been with her over two months earlier. Or was he only imagining it? After such a long time, he couldn’t truly make an accurate comparison. The only way to find out for sure whether Holly was pregnant was to ask her. He’d hesitated until now, maybe out of fear of hearing his suspicions confirmed. But with every hour that passed, his curiosity grew.
No, it was more than curiosity. He needed to know what was going on. Sooner rather than later.
Paul left his room and stepped into the corridor. From below he could hear a plethora of sounds and from farther down the hallway, where Olivia and Quentin’s room was, he heard angry voices and a child crying.
“Argh! Crap!” he cursed, passing Holly’s room. Talking to Holly would have to wait. First he needed to find out why his nephew was screaming at the top of his lungs.
Paul hurried to the guest room and saw that the door was ajar. He pushed it open farther and saw Jonathan standing in the middle of the room, crying and looking up at his parents, who were engaged in a verbal fighting match.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you look at her!” Olivia sniped.
Quentin puffed out his chest like a peacock. “You’re delusional! I’m not looking at Tara!”
“Do you think I’m blind? It was the same thing with that floozy from your office! Whenever she called, you were practically drooling! And me you treat like I don’t exist!”
“You’re exaggerating! I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you’re here, but only because the guest list reads like a Who’s Who and you think you can make some business deals! Or find another tart to cheat on me with!”
“What do you want? I’m working my butt off so you can have all the things you want! Do you think I like it that you’re always telling me what your parents are giving you? Do you think I like it that my wife constantly compares how much money I make with what her father has? Do you?”
“Enough!” Paul yelled and entered, crossing to where Jonathan still stood crying, practically unnoticed by his parents. “I don’t care if you guys want to go at each other’s throats, but by God, do you have to do it in front of Jonathan?”
Paul bent down to the boy and lifted him into his arms, rocking him against his chest. “Shhhh, buddy, we’re getting out of here.”
“Stay out of this!” Quentin yelled.
“I’m planning to,” Paul answered, and turned to the door. “But I’m taking my nephew with me until you two have calmed down.” He pressed a kiss to the boy’s head and stroked his back gently. “Come on, Jonathan. How about Uncle Paul finds you some ice cream?”
He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, still rocking his crying nephew in his arms. Big tears rolled down the boy’s cheeks and Paul wiped them away with his thumb. “You like ice cream, don’t you? I think Consuela has a secret stash somewhere. Shall we go find it? What do you say?”
Slowly Jonathan’s cries simmered down.
“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? I’ve always liked strawberry,” he said to distract his nephew.
“Chocolate!” Jonathan suddenly answered.
“Chocolate ice cream? I’m pretty sure that Consuela has a big chocolate ice cream cone hidden somewhere. And you know who’s going to get that one?”
Jonathan’s eyes lit up and the tears seemed forgotten. “Jonathan.”
Paul hugged him tightly and laughed. “That’s my boy.” He really did love his nephew. It wasn’t the boy’s fault that he cried so much and was unruly. If his parents weren’t constantly fighting in front of him, he would be a much calmer and happier child.
Paul promised himself that he would never subject his own child to anger like that. Children were too sensitive and easily affected by what was happening between their parents. They should never see their parents fight.
His own parents had never fought in front of him or Olivia. For all her faults, Paul had to admit that his mother had never said a bad word to his father.
As he carried Jonathan down the stairs, Paul smiled at the child. “That’s a very nice suit you’re wearing. You and I, we look the same now.” The boy was wearing black pants and a T-shirt that was cut like a tuxedo.
“Grammy gave it to me.” The boy beamed.
“That’s very nice of Grammy.”
The first floor of the house was buzzing like a beehive. Catering personnel rushed along the hallway and guests had started arriving. Paul made his way through the people without stopping to greet anybody and headed for the kitchen.
It was a zoo. The kitchen staff his mother had hired for the event had taken over and were arranging food on platters, heating things, putting finishing touches on arrangements, opening bottles, and clearly driving Consuela crazy.
She appeared panicked when the young men and women whirled around her as if pirouetting on ice as they handed finished platters to the wait staff. Dressed in matching tuxedos, the waiters pivoted and left the kitchen with trays of champagne and canapés to appease the hungry guests.
Paul tried to get Consuela’s attention, waving at her.
“Mr. Paul,” she said and walked over to him, nearly tripping over a young woman who was bending down to the oven and lifting a tray out of it.
“Careful, Consuela,” Paul advised.
“Do you need me to look after little Jonathan?” she asked, already stretching out her arms.
“I’ve got him. But I promised him some ice cream. Do we have any?”
“Of course we do.” She smiled at the boy. “What ice cream do you want? Vanilla? Strawberry?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Chocolate!”
“Well, let me see.” Consuela pushed her way through the people working in her kitchen until she finally reached the freezer. A moment later she was back. She unwrapped the ice cream cone and handed it to Jonathan.
The boy instantly licked the top of it.
“Now what do you say to Consuela, Jonathan?” Paul prompted.
“Thank you, Consuela.”
“Good boy.” Paul pressed a kiss to the top of his head and lifted Jonathan onto the kitchen counter, while holding him so he couldn�
��t slide down.
“Babysitting duty?” a voice asked from behind.
Paul turned around and smiled at Jay, who was also dressed in a tuxedo. “I don’t mind.” And in fact, he didn’t. He loved his nephew.
Before he could say anything else, one of the kitchen staff pressed a tray of champagne glasses into Jay’s hands. “Here, take that out to the terrace.”
“Excuse me?” Jay’s forehead furrowed.
Paul laughed. “Looks like somebody just mistook you for a waiter. Maybe it’s time you got a new tuxedo.”
Jay set the tray down and took a glass. “This is a new tuxedo!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” the woman apologized, red-faced.
Jay shrugged, then pointed to Jonathan. “Looks like your nephew made quite a mess.”
Paul whirled back. “Oh crap!”
“Oh crap,” Jonathan repeated and gave him a sheepish look.
Big brown stains of ice cream graced the front of his T-shirt and trousers.
“Grammy is going to kill us both,” Paul prophesied.
“Uh-oh,” Jonathan replied.
Consuela pushed her way through the kitchen personnel. “I’ll get him changed before Miss Nora sees it.” She lifted Jonathan down from the counter. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Jonathan, yes?”
“Okay.”
“Thanks, Consuela, I owe you one,” Paul called after her. Then he snatched a glass of champagne from the tray and slapped Jay on the shoulder. “I think we’re in the way here.”
Together they walked through the dining room and the open plan living room, where people had started to gather. Paul motioned to the French doors and the two of them walked outside onto the terrace.
The sun was starting to set and twinkling lights had been hung from bush to bush and tree to tree, illuminating the garden, terrace, and pool area. It would look almost romantic had there not been so many people around. Paul knew that his mother had invited close to a hundred guests, and it appeared that the majority had already arrived.
Waiters were circulating with trays of drinks and nibbles. No buffet had been erected, because his mother found buffets ordinary and preferred to have waiters walk around with trays of food instead.
“How are things going with the house?”
Jay rolled his eyes. “The construction is ongoing. Sometimes I think it was a mistake to buy an old house that needed so much work.”
“Yeah, but you can’t beat the location.”
“True!” Jay conceded. “Though I can’t exactly enjoy it right now. I moved onto the yacht while they’re working on the house.”
“Oh, you’re not staying at Zach’s in the meantime?” On previous visits, before Jay had bought the old, rundown house on the Beach in Montauk, he’d always stayed at Zach’s house in Bridgehampton.
“No, I can’t keep cramping his style. Besides, I just got the new yacht and wanted to try it out.”
“Where are you moored? I thought your new property didn’t have a boat dock.”
“Not yet. I’m having them build one. In the meantime, your neighbors two doors down, the Raines, rented their dock to me for the rest of the summer.”
“It’s lucky you found something so close.”
“Yeah. Oh look, there are Xavier and Michael. Looks like they finally made it.” Jay pointed to two of their friends who stood near the pool, glasses of champagne in their hands.
“Excellent,” Paul exclaimed and was following Jay down the steps that led toward the pool, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Paul?”
He turned halfway at the sound of the female voice.
“It is him!” the woman in her early sixties confirmed, nodding to her husband by her side. “So nice to see you.”
She stretched her hand out to him and Paul shook it automatically while he tried to match her face to a name. It took only a split second to place her. “Mrs. Pierpont. Mr. Pierpont. I didn’t think you’d be able to make it. I heard you were spending the week with the Willamotts.”
Mrs. Pierpont made a dismissive gesture. “I would never miss an event Nora is organizing, particularly not such an important anniversary party. Besides, I wanted to see how Tara is getting on.” She graced him with a conspiratorial wink.
Paul wanted to groan, but suppressed the urge. Tara’s mother was as bad as his own when it came to interfering in other people’s lives. “Tara is fine. Why don’t you ask her yourself? I think I saw her in the dining room.”
He hadn’t seen Tara, though he knew she was around. She’d been a trooper, going along with most of his mother’s suggestions, while trying not to infringe on his and Holly’s privacy, and finding excuses whenever Paul’s mother wanted to foist her onto them when they were planning to be alone. He would make good on his promise to try to connect Tara with the right people so that she could find a job she enjoyed.
“So what have you two been up to the last few days?” Mr. Pierpont asked while he took a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray.
“Oh, this and that.”
Good-naturedly, Mrs. Pierpont slapped her husband’s forearm. “Darling! You shouldn’t ask things like that. You know how the young ones are when they’re just starting to date. They don’t want us to know all the details.”
Paul nearly choked on his own saliva. “I’m not—”
“Anyway,” Mrs. Pierpont interrupted. “I’m glad you two are getting on.”
Paul looked past her, searching for something to say, when Holly appeared in the double doors leading to the terrace, glancing around.
“Would you excuse me, please?” He motioned to where Holly stood. “My girlfriend just arrived. I’d better get her a drink.”
Mrs. Pierpont’s face fell. “Girlfriend?”
But Paul didn’t wait and squeezed past her. A moment later, he reached Holly. “Hey, Holly.”
Her face lit up. “There are so many people here. Why didn’t you tell me there’d be so many? I don’t know anybody.”
Paul pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Daniel and Sabrina should be here already. They’re always punctual. And I believe all the members of the Eternal Bachelors Club are around too.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, that club! Sabrina told me all about it.”
“Nothing wrong with a bunch of guys competing to see who can stay a bachelor the longest.”
“Men!”
“How about a glass of champagne?” he asked.
“Uh, no thanks, not right now. I’d love some water though.”
“Water?” he asked, instantly reminded of what Mirabelle had told him. “But we’re celebrating today. Did you give up alcohol?”
Holly fidgeted, adjusting the straps of her figure-hugging dress. “No, of course not. I’m just really thirsty right now.”
She was making excuses again. Maybe now was as good a time as any to confront her with his suspicions. He wasn’t sure he could continue to pretend that nothing was bothering him.
Paul took Holly by the elbow and ushered her to a quiet corner of the terrace, glancing around as he did so.
“Is something wrong?” Holly asked.
“I was gonna ask you the same.”
She furrowed her forehead.
“You don’t drink alcohol, when I know you enjoy a good glass of wine. You get sick in the morning and blame it on the food the night before.”
With every word, Holly’s smile faded.
“You didn’t want to stay on Zach’s boat, not because Sabrina was sick, but because you were feeling queasy.” He paused, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “Are you pregnant?”
The widening of her eyes and dropping of her chin told him everything he needed to know.
“That’s ridiculous,” she claimed.
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” He stared daggers at her.
Holly sucked in a breath and thrust up her chin. “It’s none of your business whether I’m pregnant or not. It doesn’t affect our
arrangement.”
“The hell it doesn’t!”
She fisted her hands at her waist. “No it doesn’t. So get off my case. Nobody is going to know about it. By the time I show, I’ll be gone.”
Paul narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, about that. How many weeks along are you?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“We had sex less than ten weeks ago.”
“It’s not yours!” she answered a little too fast.
“Isn’t it?”
“We used condoms!” she countered.
“As we both know, that method is less than a hundred percent reliable. So, I’m asking again: How far along are you?”
Holly pressed her lips together.
“Paul!” his sister’s voice came from behind him. He didn’t even turn his head. “Not now!”
“You’ve got no choice,” Olivia continued. “Mother and Dad are starting their speech. We have to stand next to them, or we’ll never hear the end of it.”
He turned his head. “Fine.” Then he looked back at Holly. “This conversation is not over.”
Paul whirled and followed his sister as she sidestepped a man in his fifties who had clearly had more than a few glasses of champagne, even though the party had started less than an hour earlier.
Paul couldn’t wait for this event to be over, because one thing was clear: Holly was lying to him.
26
Holly watched as Paul, flanked by his sister, walked to where their parents were standing at the other end of the large terrace, and faced the crowd.
She hadn’t expected this. Since when were men so perceptive? Weren’t they the ones who didn’t even notice when a woman had had her hair cut? So how on earth had he figured out that she was pregnant?
She hadn’t been prepared to answer him. But she knew Paul wouldn’t stop until he had an answer. What would she do now?
Holly glanced to where Paul’s parents stood, Paul and Olivia next to them. Expectantly, the crowd gathered around them and those below in the garden and the pool looked up. Finally, Paul’s father began to speak.
Holly didn’t listen to the words. Instead, her eyes roamed. It took only moments to spot the one she needed to talk to. Sabrina stood near the pool, Daniel next to her.