by Nicole Lane
She was supposed to have lunch with Eve later in the week, and she was looking forward to it. They’d only had the chance to talk once since the discussion about the prenup had gone awry, and that was to arrange lunch. Isabelle hoped Eve wasn’t still upset with her about what she’d asked—throwing her casual relationships in her face—but she would apologize when she saw her in person.
After allowing Alora to vent and show her a few of the magazines, Isabelle told her regretfully that she had to go. “Dominic’s expecting me,” she said, bending to kiss her sister on the cheek, then calling the kids over for hugs before she went. “Thanks for everything, Lora.”
Over the next few days, Isabelle thumbed through the magazines Alora had collected, tearing out pages that interested her, and started making a folder with what she liked best. On the gowns she preferred, she marked what she liked or disliked, hoping that would help Eve get an idea of what to do.
“Unless you have an idea already,” Isabelle said hopefully from across the table, watching her older sister study the pages she’d been presented.
“Mmm.” Eve nodded, pointing. “This is good here, but that’s cut for a short girl, and you’re a tall girl. I’d like to put you in something that’s a bit more glamorous, don’t you think? I could see you in something asymmetrical. One arm and shoulder completely bare—maybe the one on the groom’s side—and the other in a nice, tight sleeve. I’d cut it on the bias so it really clung to your body, but with a generous enough fit that it isn’t sleazy. We could do a blue topaz brooch on the sleeved shoulder at the top, and you’d have your something blue.” Eve’s face was lighting up as she considered the possibilities. “We’ll make you stunning. Stunning-er. You’re already going to be the most beautiful bride of the season.”
Isabelle beamed. “I’m so glad you’re willing!”
“I’m thrilled you asked!”
“I also wanted to ask if you’d be my maid of honor. Would you?”
Eve’s smile faded somewhat. “Oh, Issie. I really think you should ask Alora to do that. It would mean a lot to her and to Mum. And…okay.” She put down the pencil she’d been using to make notes. “I have to swear you to secrecy.”
“What?”
“Swear. Hand over heart. I’m going to tell you something that you absolutely cannot tell Mum, Dad, Alora, or anyone else in the family. All right?”
Isabelle nodded. “I swear. What?” Eve was unpredictable, and she was half-afraid her sister was about to say she was moving to Sri Lanka to care for elephants or something equally as insane.
Eve leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I’m preggers. I’m nearly five months along, so I’ll have a baby by the time you’re a bride. A girl. I’m having a girl.”
“A baby? Oh my God, Evie! That’s wonderful!” she said, keeping her voice down but still obviously, genuinely excited. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Eve beamed. “I knew I could tell you and you’d be happy for me.”
“Oh, I am,” she cried, getting up and coming around the table to hug her sister. “A little girl. Imagine!”
“I know!”
“Let me see.” Isabelle peered down.
“Nothing to see yet.” Eve laughed but leaned back to show off a slight paunch. “The doctor said I should pop any time now. My height’s good camouflage.”
She cooed and patted her sister’s belly before taking her seat again. “Dare I ask about the father? Is that part of the secret?”
“He’s not in the picture.” Eve shook her head. “Marcus is demanding to be ‘the father,’ though, so we’re working something out.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
“Not anytime soon,” she said, taking a bite of her salad. “He wants to be involved with the baby, and I know I can count on him. I’m not ready to give up hope for the future just yet.”
Isabelle smiled. “I’m glad he’s being supportive. I’ll help too. In any way I can. Whatever you need, Evie.”
“Thanks, sweetie. What I need is to be able to tell the family in my own way, okay?”
“I promise. Oh God, what have I just agreed to?”
Eve grinned. “I didn’t want to spring it on you. I fully intend to spring it on them.”
“Mum’s throwing Alora a baby shower the month after next,” Isabelle confided. “She rang me this morning. The invitations are in the mail. I’m sure you’ll be getting one.”
“Another baby shower? She’s already had two kids! Isn’t she just supposed to register at this point?” Eve snorted.
“Yes, well, you know how Mum is. She’ll likely try to throw one for you once she finds out.”
“No, she won’t. Well, maybe she will. Who knows? Once I show up at Alora’s party, big as my own house, she’ll be in a panic.”
“Now I have to make sure to be there!”
“When did Lora announce the latest?”
“Day after the anniversary party. She said she didn’t want to upstage me.”
“That was sweet of her.”
They settled into conversation over their meals and then parted ways with hugs and kisses. Isabelle headed home, happy with her world and happy for her sister. Dominic was there when she arrived, watching some sort of extreme sport on the large panel he’d bought earlier in the month.
“Welcome home, wifey,” he greeted with a smile.
“Soon-to-be wifey.” She dropped her bag on the table, then herself into his lap.
“Good lunch?”
“Brilliant. Evie’s going to do my dress, and she has great ideas. And—can you swear not to tell this to anyone in my family?”
“What?” He seemed confused.
“Swear.”
“I swear. What?”
“Evie’s pregnant!”
His eyes went wide. “What?”
“She’s pregnant. It’s a girl!”
“Really? That’s…surprising.”
“Yes, completely unplanned, but she’s thrilled. Marcus is the father,” Isabelle said.
“Her boss? I thought he was a poof?”
“Mostly. They have a special relationship.”
“Sounds like it.” He grimaced.
Isabelle laughed. “He’s not the bio-dad, but he’s crazy for Evie, and he’s demanding to be the father. He even wants his name to go on the birth certificate. Evie said no to that, but isn’t that funny? She said he’s completely baby hungry. She’s going to turn her guest room into the nursery, and she’s going to hire a nanny. She’s got it all planned.”
“When’s the sprog coming?” he asked.
“She’s due in late August or early September. She’s asked me to help think of names since Marcus wants a name that starts with X. I think Bryony is a nice name and fits the family history. Or Bronwen. I’m so excited!” Isabelle squealed and kicked her feet. “Eve’s going to be the coolest mother ever. Can you imagine?”
“You’re going to be the coolest mother ever,” Dominic corrected, giving her a squeeze. “Eve’s not exactly the responsible one, is she? Already planning on a nanny to do the work and all.”
She frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with having a nanny. Eve’s got a job, and she’ll need a hand. She can’t rely on Mum or Alora to help.”
“I suppose.”
“I’m thrilled for her. I’ve never seen her this happy.”
“She’s happy?” Dominic seemed even more surprised by that.
“She’s thrilled. It’s really good.”
“Is she gigantic?”
“Not hardly. She’s got a bit of a bump starting, but that’s all. Just a wee thing. I wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t told me. So, she said no to being my maid of honor and said I should ask Alora.”
“Are you going to?”
“No,” Isabelle said slowly. “I love Lora, but…she’s not who I want standing there. I might ask my friend Jeanne. Not Alora, though.”
“No, I agree with you, there. You need someone who won’t drive you mental on t
he day.”
“Alora’s already got the wedding half-planned,” she said with a sigh.
“Yes, well, we’re not having Alora’s wedding. We’re having our own.”
“Can we elope?”
“Your father would murder me.”
“Can’t have that.”
“Might ruin the honeymoon.”
Eve put the finishing touches on a sketch for Isabelle’s gown and sat back to study it. The third in a series of five, she would have a complete work-up to show her sister the next time they met. With Tad rumbling about in her kitchen, doing the washing up from dinner, she let her head loll back on the sofa.
“You know, I was terrible at Alora’s wedding.”
“Were you?” he called back to her.
“I was.”
“Why’s that?”
“She didn’t ask me to be a bridesmaid. She had Issie and a couple of her girlfriends stand up for her, and I was affronted. So, I wore white to her wedding. Mostly. It was a skimpy little satin slip dress. Everyone was so busy with the bride that they didn’t notice me until it was too late to do anything about it.”
“Did you get the attention you were looking for?”
“Are you sure you’re in design? Because you ask questions like a head doctor.”
Tad threw a dish towel that landed halfway between them. “Talk like a head case, and that’s what you get!”
Eve chuckled. “Yes, Dr. Edmunds, I did. All eyes on me. Which was ridiculous, really, because Alora looked gorgeous. Her dress was a design nightmare—a lot of look, as they say, but she looked beautiful in it.”
“Now, see, if she could hear you saying that—”
“She’d be sure I was up to no good. I’ve usually been up to no good where Lora’s concerned.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story. I’m sure you’ll have it out of me in no time, but not tonight.”
He walked into the living room to pick up his towel. “Movie tonight? I’ve got a couple of new releases over at my place.”
“Sounds like just the thing. I’ll make some popcorn?”
“Extra butter.”
Eve pushed herself up from the sofa, dropping the sketchbook and charcoal onto the coffee table to walk him to the door, where he kissed the top of her head, and she patted his cheek before he went bounding down her front step and on across the courtyard. She caught sight of Dominic as he strode up the walk and gave him a wave.
He lifted a fist out of his jacket pocket and flung his fingers out in a similar gesture, both to her and Tad, who had paused.
“What are you doing here?” Eve asked with surprise, stepping aside to allow him into her home. It was that or be steamrolled. She shrugged to Tad, who was still watching from his own doorway, giving him a thumbs-up so he would know she was okay.
“I’ll be right back over,” he called out. “Remember the extra butter!”
“Butter?” Dominic asked as Eve shut the door.
“For popcorn. What do you want anyway?”
“When were you going to tell me you were pregnant?”
“Oh, for—you shouldn’t have come here.”
“When were you going to tell me you were pregnant?” Dominic demanded once more, reaching to grab for her arm.
Eve stepped back away from him, holding up a hand. “Don’t touch me. And don’t come in here demanding things. Fuck all. I told Isabelle not to tell anyone. I forgot to name you specifically.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I wasn’t. It’s not your business.”
“Is it mine?”
“It’s mine.”
He lowered his chin and leveled his eyes at her. “Evie…”
“It’s mine,” she repeated. “Beyond that, it doesn’t matter.”
“If I’m the father—”
“You’re not.”
“Are you sure? I have a right—” he began, but she cut him off.
“You don’t have anything of the sort. Not with me. Not ever,” she said sharply. “Besides, do you really want it to be yours? How do you think Isabelle would feel about that?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his nostrils flared slightly. “If I am the father—”
“I said you’re not,” she repeated firmly. “You are not my baby’s father.”
“Who is?” He took a step forward.
“There isn’t one.”
“Then who?”
She backed down at that question and turned away, saying as she walked toward her kitchen, “I don’t know. It’s a short list, but there’s more than one possibility.”
“Am I a possibility?”
“Did you ever wear a condom? There’s your answer.”
He went a little pale and fell silent for a long moment. “So, it could be mine.”
She sighed and rummaged in her pantry for the microwave popcorn, wondering what was taking Tad so long. “Dominic, it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me!”
“Well, it shouldn’t. Even if it were yours, and I’m not sure that it is, you’re off the hook.”
He followed her into the kitchen a moment later. “Eve, if I got you pregnant…I would want to know.”
“Why? Sit down,” she said, indicating the chairs at the dining table. “And by the way, I’m totally not prepared to have this conversation.”
“Me either.”
“Look, you can’t be the father of this baby. You can be the uncle. You can be the aunt’s first husband. You can be that guy I used to go around with. But you cannot be her father. And no matter who got her started, you cannot see it through. You just can’t. There’s no way. You’re marrying Issie, and you’re going to have babies with her. You can be a father to those babies, but not to this one.”
“How short is the list?”
“It’s short. Listen to me, Dominic. Everything between us stops. Stopped. It stopped the moment you proposed—or at least as soon as I left the party. I’m not willing to do this to Isabelle anymore. Think. If I told you this was your baby, what good would it do anyone? I decided to have her. I’m having her. She’s my choice, and my decision, and my responsibility. No one else’s.”
“And I don’t have any say?”
“No.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m supposed to just pretend that this isn’t happening?”
“You’ve been doing a good job of it so far. Pretending we haven’t been cheating on Isabelle together. I’m still trying to figure out what made me do that,” she said. “You need to just walk away, Dominic. Go be with Isabelle and treat her as well as she deserves. Better.”
He licked his lips and shook his head at her, upset clear on his face. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I wouldn’t have…Eve, I’ve got responsibility whether you want me to or not. I’ve got—”
“Nothing. You’ve got nothing to do with this. There were five other guys,” she said in a rush. “Maybe seven. I don’t know. And I was with you fewer times than the rest. It’s likeliest that her father is an American I was seeing. I liked his accent. So, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m worried about you! You know, I do have feelings for you. I do care about what happens to you.”
“Then walk away. Because if my family thinks this baby is yours—if they even get a whiff of that scent—we’ve broken Isabelle’s heart, and then this baby will never have grandparents, aunts, uncles, or anything. She’ll be fucking stuck on a desert island with me, and you know that wouldn’t work. I don’t get along with my family, but she’ll want to know them. Don’t ruin this for her.”
“Is she mine?” he asked one more time, his words measured.
“If I say yes, will you care enough to walk away and let her have a life? Just let her think I was kind of a whore, not that I was the worst kind who was sleeping with her sister’s boyfriend?”
“You’re not a whore.”
She gave him a withering look. “Dominic. Please.”
“You’re not.”
“Maybe not on your level, but still. You didn’t answer the questions.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if I can just walk away.”
“Then she’s not yours, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Go home, Dominic.”
He swallowed hard, frowning. “Eve, please. Please.”
“I’m giving you the out, Dominic! She isn’t yours!”
“I’m always going to wonder!”
“Then it sucks to be you. But you’ve got two choices here: Go marry my sister and have a happy life, or…Dominic, what would you do? Would you break up with Issie and come try to live with me? Because I won’t have you. I don’t love you. You don’t love me. I care for you, but not in the way it takes to be parents together. You can be a very involved uncle. You can see her all the time. You can have her over for visits, and you and Isabelle can love her together. She can adore you, and you can be her favorite uncle—you would be anyway. But you cannot be her father. Okay? Will you take that? Will you be her uncle? And if there are father-daughter things, you can take her as her uncle. I’ll tell her that her father was eaten by a shark, or struck by lightning on a golf course, or fell through the center of the earth, but Uncle Dominic is the best surrogate ever.”
His jaw twitched again, and she nodded, dark eyes burning into his.
“Hear what I am not saying to you,” she insisted. “Be her uncle, and be fantastic.”
He was silent for a few moments, the only sound the ticking of the clock and their breathing, before he said, “All right. Will you stop acting like you hate me around Isabelle and the rest of the family?”
“As long as you don’t start acting obviously toward me,” she replied with a nod.
“Otherwise, it will seem strange to everyone that you allow her to spend so much time with ‘Uncle Dominic.’”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. No one will think it’s strange she gets to spend so much time with Aunt Isabelle. You’ll just happen to be there. Besides—” she shrugged, relief obvious in her shoulders “—my family will be encouraging you two to spend time with her. They’ll be sure I’m going to warp her.”
“They’re wrong about you.”