by BJ Harvey
Dad clears his throat, diverting attention. “How’s the house going?” he asks, and I’m grateful for the change in subject.
“I’m actually starting renovations upstairs. Demo work starts on Monday.”
“Oh,” my mother says. “And where are you living while they’re being done? I’ll need you to send me your temporary address.”
I frown, not understanding why I’d need a temporary address. Then it hits me. My parents have always had money, and Sheila would never want to risk a single speck of dust disrupting her seemingly perfect life, so of course she’d assume everybody would have the means and/or inclination to move out while construction work was being done. “I live downstairs, so there’s no need to move out while Jamie, Ezra, and the contractors are working.”
“Who are Jamie and Ezra?” my father asks. “I haven’t heard you mention them before. Were they recommended to you? If you’d asked, I would’ve gotten our contractor to call you.”
“Jamie is Jax’s brother. They have a company that flips and renovates houses. And Ezra is…” Perfect. Kind. Sexy. Going to be the father of your grandson…
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and offer up a rare prayer that my parents won’t be assholes about what I have to say next—I just need to work up the courage.
The waiter reappears and slides our drinks in front of us. Without hesitating, I lift my glass and bring the straw to my mouth, taking a long sip.
After taking our food order, the waiter collects the menus from the table and walks away.
My parents are watching me, and I realize they’re waiting for me to continue. “Ezra is an architect and a friend of the Cook family. He’s designed the plans to reconfigure the entire first floor. I’m moving the master bedroom upstairs along with a new master bathroom and a new guest bedroom.”
My mother’s eyes narrow. “Are you planning to list the house? Is that why you’re renovating? I did wonder if the property would be enough for you.”
I shake my head. “I love my house, and it’s more than enough.”
“But it’s so…” She waves her hand in the air, “…homely. Especially for a woman of your means.” And that’s a perfect example of the extent of Sheila’s maternal instinct.
“I’m happy where I am, thanks.”
“If it’s a money issue, I’d be happy to help you into a new home,” my father says, and my blood pressure rises at the offer. I want to yell at them, my tight restraint struggling to hold my heavyweight fighter back. She’s against the ropes and pushing to step in the ring.
“Money doesn’t solve everything,” I state matter-of-factly.
“It sure does help,” my father says with a smug grin.
“Some things are more important.”
My mother tilts her head, her gaze speculative. “Something is different about you.”
How intuitive of you, Mother.
“Really?” I ask, intrigued as to where she’s going with this.
“Yes. You’re glowing. Your skin looks amazing. Did you finally go see Marquita for a little…” She points between her brows and to her cheeks.
My eyes near-on jump out of my skull and roll off the table onto the floor.
“No, Sheila. Despite years of you telling me I need work, I’m surprisingly confident in my own skin. I won’t be visiting Marquita. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Gillian…” my father warns.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
His eyes widen. I never call them Mom and Dad anymore.
“But I thought I was here for a nice family lunch. Then again, it’s not really a family meal, is it? Since Ronnie chose a happy life over living with the constant criticism and the high expectations impressed on the both of us.”
Sheila holds her martini glass in the air, her lips pursed. “And look at you now. You have a successful career, you have your own home, and other than the lack of a husband, you’ve achieved everything we ever hoped you would.”
The pressure in my head throbs against my temples. I flex my fingers gently over my bump, the faint fluttering deep inside giving me the courage I need to drop the bomb and wait for the anticipated reaction. Wait. Isn’t fluttering the baby moving? Why couldn’t our son pick a more opportune time for this huge milestone!
“I’m pregnant. It’s a boy. And I’m very happy,” I blurt out, the fighter in me jumping into the fray and throwing the first punch.
I look between my parents. Sheila gasps far louder than expected from an ice queen. Keith grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking like a timer counting down to detonation.
“Being a Nelson has obligations, Gillian. That does not include sullying our family name by becoming a single mother,” Sheila says, her voice low in warning. From the disdain and disgust painted all over her face, you’d think I’d just told her I was a drug dealer. “Your sister has always been the one to do her own thing and fight against everything we’ve ever wanted for her, but you, Gilly—not you. You’ve always done everything asked of you, everything expected.” I shake my head, wondering why I ever held out hope that maybe—just maybe—my parents might have an unanticipated reaction and actually surprise me.
“But this is not you,” she continues, waving her hand in the air. “Unwed and having a baby? You’re just making strides in your career, and now you’re going to throw it all away? For what?”
“Sheila…” my father cautions, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother clutch her pearls any faster. She snaps her head towards her husband, her eyes narrowing in confusion.
“I’m sorry, Keith, but you can’t say you approve of this mess. At least Ronnie was married when she got pregnant.”
“You’re making a scene,” he grinds out. I’ve seen this man cross-examine a witness into a sniveling mess, and even that was less menacing that his demeanor right now.
Sheila’s eyes widen, and she huffs before snapping her mouth shut. Her gaze drops to her empty glass on the table in front of her. She fidgets with the cutlery, and for a brief moment, I’m feeling sorry for her and a huge amount of appreciation for the equality Ezra and I have in our relationship. Then I remember all the manipulation and control they exerted over me growing up, even through college.
“And the father?” Keith asks. I meet his eyes, and they spear right through me.
“His name is Ezra, and we—”
“Wait,” Sheila says. “You said that name before. He’s the architect.”
I nod, surprised she remembered that. “Yes. He owns an architectural consulting firm and works with Jax and his brothers.”
“And what are his intentions?” my father says. “Is he going to do right by you and the child by marrying you?”
“Let me get this straight. Your issue is not just that I’m pregnant—thanks for the congratulations, by the way,” I say, and my mother’s gaze snaps up to mine. “The fact I’m pregnant and not on my knees, begging a man to take care of me is the biggest issue for you?” I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table.
“News flash: I’m an adult, which means I should be able to live my life without actually being worried how my own parents will react when I tell them I’m giving them a grandson.”
My father’s eyes flash, but my mother’s gasp grabs my attention.
“We gave you everything,” Sheila hisses.
“Sometimes children don’t want everything. They just want one thing—unconditional love.”
My father’s jaw clenches tight, and I almost wonder if I’ve hit a nerve.
“We never had it at home, so Ronnie and I went out looking for it. Ronnie found hers with Jax and serendipitously, I’ve found mine with Ezra.”
“Breathe, sweetheart,” Ezra murmurs from behind me. I jump in my seat, spinning around and looking up with tears of relief threatening to fall at the sight of that very strong, kind, breathtaking man at my back.
“How did you—?” I also catch sight of Jax walking—and Ronnie waddling—toward us. I close my eyes, si
nking my teeth into my lip and trying to stop myself from turning into a blubbering mess. In that moment, it hits me like a freight train. Family is not just by blood—it can be the people you choose and the person you accidentally make a baby with. I have the power to make sure that our son does not have any of the toxic, imperious, deceptive manipulation in his life that my parents turned into a fine art from the moment I was born.
Obviously not caring where we are or bothering to introduce himself to Keith and Sheila—who don’t deserve the courtesy—Ezra leans down, cradles my jaw in that way I love, and gives me a soft kiss. He rests his forehead to mine and stares into my eyes. “I said I’d always have your back. I just need to know when I should be having it,” he murmurs, and I don’t miss the inference. He straightens but doesn’t lose contact, sliding his hand down and placing it gently on my shoulder.
Buoyed by having my family—my real family—behind me, I turn back to Sheila and Keith, both of them switching their gaze between a twenty-months pregnant Ronnie and myself.
“I’m not going to let you ruin this for me. Because if you do…” I spear them both with a scathing stare, “…I’ll be as dead to you as Ronnie is. You won’t know me, the man I’m falling in love with, or our child, your grandson,” I say, looking over at Ronnie and Jax, Ronnie’s eyes blazing with pride. “They will never even know you exist.”
Ezra’s hand smooths down my arm, and he brings his mouth to my ear. “I’m calling time, baby mama.” His voice is low, rough, and full of something I can’t quite pinpoint. Whatever it is, it’s not bad. Definitely not bad, but it is done. I recognize it because Jax had to do the same thing all those months ago when Ronnie took him to our parents’ house to introduce him, and they pulled their typical crap and spoke down to her—and him.
Ezra removes his hand. I turn my head to look at him, meeting blazing eyes full of fierce warmth I feel course through me like a hot knife through butter.
Sliding my chair back, I stand, not missing my mother’s eyes jumping straight to the “bunched” fabric around my waist.
“As always, there was absolutely no pleasure at all, Sheila.” I turn toward my father. “Keith, I’ll arrange a meeting with you this week. As you can imagine, there is a lot to discuss now.”
He stares straight at me, his expression indecipherable.
“I’ll set it up with Suzy.” I nod and reach my hand behind me, my heart jumping when Ezra’s fingers slide between mine and give me a reassuring squeeze.
“I’ll leave you to your meal,” I say before turning around and looking between Ezra, Ronnie, and Jax. “Let’s go.”
With his hand resting against the small of my back, Ez leads me out of the restaurant, nodding at the porter as we walk out the front door toward my car, which is waiting for us. I breathe out a sigh of relief. Can he get any better?
Once I’m settled in the passenger seat of my car, Ez closes me in and rounds the hood, opening the driver’s door and sliding behind the wheel. “Let’s get you home, and then I can take care of you.”
“Okay.”
He nods and starts the engine, soon pulling out of the driveway and into traffic.
I chew the inside of my cheek, clutching my hands in my lap as I wait for Ez to say something—anything—about me meeting my parents alone or for thinking it would go any differently to any other time.
“Are you mad at me?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I turn in my seat to face him. “No. Why would I be annoyed at you? You saved me.”
“You saved yourself. Although not from a hostile work environment on Monday, I’m guessing,” he says, his lips twitching as he turns back onto the freeway. “I was expecting you to ream me out for being all overprotective again.”
I reach over and rub his arm. “God, no. I should never have taken them on alone. Ronnie told me not to, but I thought I could handle them. I’ve been doing it my whole life and deflecting their barbs from Ronnie too, but I didn’t anticipate my inner angry mama bear coming out.”
“You have no idea how hot that was, by the way.”
My head jerks back. “How is that hot? I lost my cool and probably ripped my parents’ public persona to shreds. Oh God, I can imagine the gossip and Chinese whispers that will be going around now. Gilly Nelson is—gasp—knocked up to a—”
“Tall, dark, and handsome architect she’s falling in love with.”
My breath stutters as my chest seizes, my entire body going still as his words register in my brain. Why would he say tha—oh, shit.
“You won’t know me, the man I’m falling in love with, or our child.”
I clamp my mouth shut and sneak a glance at him. A sly grin curves his lips.
“Don’t worry. I’ll wait till you’re ready to tell me yourself,” he says gently, squeezing my knee affectionately before grabbing the wheel again as we fall into unnerving silence. Feeling awkward and off-kilter, I’m compelled to change the subject to get back on solid ground.
“Will your parents adopt me?” I blurt out.
Ez snorts. “What?”
“I suddenly find myself without some of my own, and I think yours like me—well, they did before I let you knock me up—but I’m charming. I’m sure I can win them over again.”
Ezra stares at me like I’ve lost mind. Not that improbable. “Fuck.”
“What? Do they really not like me? I’m stubborn when I want to be. I promise I won’t stop until they love me.”
“They’d appreciate your dedication to the cause, even if it is somewhat unnecessary.”
“Why?”
“Because they like you.”
“Really?”
He scrunches his forehead. “Yeah. Of course they do.”
My inquisitive nature takes over, the previous awkwardness all but forgotten—for now. “Why?”
His head jerks. “Why do they like you?”
“We haven’t even invited them over for lunch or dinner or anything yet. Wait, should we have? I mean, last time I saw them was the baby shower, and we kind of made a scene, so that might’ve left them with a bad impression of me.”
“Sweetheart, relax. You’re so uptight.” He gently kneads my leg.
“Well, yeah. Of course I am.”
“You need to unwind,” he says calmly like it’s that easy.
“Mm-hmm,” I say, distracted by his hand massaging my skin.
“Maybe I’ll run you a bath when we get home.”
“Uh-huh…”
“You’re totally relaxing now, aren’t you?”
“Maybe…”
“Mission accomplished then,” he says.
I lean my head against the headrest, my eyes lazily roaming his profile. “You’re far too calm and easy-going.”
He chuckles. “Maybe I’m the yin to your yang.”
“Or the mac to my cheese,” I say, earning an amused shake of his head.
“You and pasta,” he muses. “Our son will probably come out of the womb demanding carbs.”
“Oooh, now I’m hungry.”
He tilts his head slightly and quirks a brow. “You haven’t eaten?” All amusement is now gone.
“I kind of lost it before the starters arrived.”
“Looks like I’m cooking you dinner and giving you a foot rub then.”
That gets my attention. “Did you forget about the bath? You can’t promise an irrational pregnant woman a night of relaxation and not follow through. That’s called false advertising, mister.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever m’lady wants, she shall get.”
I bow my head. “Thank you, baby daddy.”
My phone starts ringing in my purse. I pull it out and see my sister’s name on the screen. “I better answer it, or she’ll want to do a welfare check.”
My handsome driver smiles and moves his hand off my leg, gripping the steering wheel in both hands. “You do that. And by the way, we’ve got a get-together at Mom and Dad’s this week so you can commence ‘Operation Win Them Ov
er’ then.”
My brows nearly hit my hairline they shoot up so fast, my mouth wide I’m surprised my bottom lip isn’t touching my chest.
Ezra’s shoulders start shaking, and my phone stops ringing then straight away starts up again. He sneaks a side-glance my way, nodding to my hand. “You better get that.”
I glare at him. “This discussion is not over.”
“I don’t suppose it is,” he replies calmly. “Then again, with a bath, a full belly of baby and pasta, and a foot rub for dessert, I like my chances of you forgetting all about this conversation by the end of the night.”
“Highly unlikely.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” he says, sounding far too cocky for his own good.
“Gilly?”
“Yeah?”
“Answer your phone, sweetheart.”
“So damn bossy,” I mutter, accepting the call and lifting the handset to my ear, but not before he has the last word.
“You love it. And in case you want to know, I’m falling for you too.”
Universe, it’s me, Gillian Eve Nelson. Send help, because I’m totally screwed. And by screwed, I mean deliriously happy.
But for the love of God, please let Ezra have a flaw or two. I’m starting to get a complex.
13
Ezra
I’m nervous as I pull my car into my parents’ driveway, but Gilly is happily singing along to Taylor Swift on the radio.
Over the years, there have not been many women I’ve brought home to meet my parents. My two ex-wives notwithstanding, there has been only one other girlfriend to walk the gauntlet. Gilly isn’t just a girlfriend to me though—she’s more. So, I’m not sure what I’ll do if things don’t go well.
Sure, Mom and Dad have briefly met Gilly as they’ve attended the same family gatherings, but I can’t recall them having one-on-one conversations.
Gilly can’t wait. She’s gone all out, too, taking forever to get ready and making us late by walking out in a new fitted maternity dress that hugs her growing bust, curvy hips, and rounded mini-basketball bump. The moment I saw the dress, I was speechless. When I dropped down her legs to her strappy sandals, I was half-hard. When she turned around and slowly bent over, giving me a mouth-watering eyeful of the stockings and garters she knows drive me crazy, it was on.