Why Not Tonight (Happily Inc. #3)

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know that she won’t be perfectly fine. You’re borrowing trouble.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but it’s hard not to. She’s so great and she’s being stronger than I could ever be. She’s a little nervous, but not scared.”

Ronan watched his brother. “She doesn’t have memories of growing up with Ceallach.”

Nick grimaced. “Believe me, I think about that all the time. When I worry about being a good dad I promise myself I’ll figure out what he would do and then do the opposite.”

“That’s a great plan.”

Nick looked at him. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s all his fault. Being an asshole. You know what it was like for him.”

Ronan knew what he’d been told. That his father had been the only child born to a lawyer and a stay-at-home mother. As far as anyone knew, there was no artist genius in the family, but by the time Ceallach had been three, his parents had realized there was something going on. Tutors had been brought in, and when he had turned seven, he’d been sent away to a famous academy in France.

“Don’t pull the ‘he wasn’t parented’ line on me,” Ronan said. “Elaine used to say that all the time, all the while defending him from whatever crappy thing he’d done.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Nick said. “His parents and teachers pushed him. He never had a normal childhood.”

“That might excuse not knowing how to be a good father but it doesn’t excuse him being a horrible human being.”

“True. I think about it. About how much of him is in me, about what I’m going to pass on to my kid. Pallas says it will be fine and I believe she’s okay with it, but I worry.”

Ronan understood. At least Nick had a counteracting force in Elaine.

“When it gets bad,” Nick continued, “Pallas tells me that I’m an okay guy and you four are fairly decent, so whatever’s going on with our dad is diluted.”

“A good way to look at things.” Diluted. He’d never thought of his Ceallach gene pool that way. The problem was, he didn’t know about the other half. What if his birth mother was worse? He couldn’t imagine any normal woman finding Ceallach appealing enough to have a kid with. He figured she had to have been young and assumed she was a partyer who liked to chase after rich, famous guys. Not exactly someone he ever wanted to meet. Not that he would be finding out. He didn’t know anything about the woman—not her name or where she was from. He had a feeling that Natalie would tell him to talk to Elaine (or as she would say, “your mother”) and get the answers. There had to have been a meeting when he’d been passed over. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d simply been left on the doorstep.

There was only one way to get the information and that was to ask for it. Something Ronan knew was never going to happen.

*

NATALIE DOUBLE-CHECKED the list she had made based on her notes from Pallas. Normally accomplishing a list of tasks was no big deal but these days she couldn’t seem to keep her attention on anything for more than a second. The reason was simple enough—she was worried she was pregnant. The solution was equally easy. As Silver had said, all she had to do was take the damn test and she would know the answer.

Saturday, she promised herself. Today was Wednesday. If she didn’t get her period by Saturday morning she would go out and buy a test, or three, and find out for sure. Until then, she would do her best not to worry. Which was turning out to really be easier said than done.

She returned her attention to the flowers for the centerpieces. They were relaxing for her to make—almost a Zen exercise. She tried to keep her breathing steady and even and stay focused. The process worked for nearly eight seconds and then she was worrying about how everything would change if she really were having a baby.

“I need therapy,” she murmured. “With a mental health professional.” Or maybe just the courage to go to the drugstore.

If only her mom were here, she thought. She would know what to say. Natalie smiled. Actually, her mother would go buy the test herself, hand it to her daughter, then wait outside the bathroom door until Natalie had peed. Then her mom would hold her tight and promise everything was going to be all right. The best part was that Natalie would totally believe her.

Funny how lately her mom had been on her mind so much. She would have thought with the passage of time the memories would get more infrequent. No doubt hanging out with Ronan was part of the reason.

She knew there were women who weren’t close to their moms. How awful. She couldn’t imagine what that would be like—not to have that loving advice, the shared jokes. Her mom had always been her best friend. They’d done everything together.

Her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and saw she had a text from Ronan.

Want to hang out tonight? I can cook.

Her stomach clenched. Of course she wanted to see him and be with him and enjoy the evening with him, but there was no way she could do that and not blurt out something she would regret. She hesitated only a second before texting back that she was going to be working on wedding flowers for the next couple of hours. Then she turned back to the stack of paper and did her best to make her words true.

Nearly a half hour later, there was a knock on her front door. Natalie answered it only to find Ronan on her landing.

“Hi,” she said as she stepped back to let him inside. “What’s up?”

His gaze settled on her face as if he were looking for something. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. You sounded, I don’t know, different when you texted.”

“It was a text. How could you judge how I sounded?”

He shrugged. “I had a feeling.”

One that was uncomfortably accurate, she thought. Weren’t men supposed to have the emotional intelligence of a plant? Why did Ronan have to be higher on the food chain than that?

For a second, she desperately wanted to tell him the truth. That she was scared. Not only because a baby would totally change everything between them but because it would turn her life upside down in ways she couldn’t begin to imagine. She wasn’t ready; she didn’t have her crap together. A baby would be...complicated.

But to say that was to go somewhere that couldn’t be ungone. She frowned. That wasn’t right. Ungone? Who said that?

“Natalie?”

“What? Oh, sorry.” She led the way to her studio. “I’m okay. Just feeling swamped.” She pointed to the stacks of paper, the crates of vases and completed flowers. “I wasn’t kidding about working. I’m struggling to keep up my daily flower count. When I figured out my schedule, I wasn’t helping Pallas with other aspects of the wedding. Of course I want to be there for Pallas, but there’s more to do than I’d realized. Between that and the flowers and work and trying to do at least a little project for myself, I’m running out of hours in the day.”

He put his hand on the small of her back. “You’re right. It’s a lot. There’s also our bridge project.”

“What?” The word came out as a shriek. “I totally forgot about that.”

“Don’t worry. Mathias and I are taking care of it.”

“But we’re doing it together. I need to help.”

“When would you do that?”

“I don’t know but I should...”

She should be doing something, but it was hard to think when Ronan leaned in and kissed her. His mouth was firm, yet teasing, as if he was simply kissing her because it was fun and not because he expected anything.

“Prioritize,” he told her. “Wedding and work come first. Then your art, then the bridge project.”

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“I’m suggesting.”

It was a good suggestion, one that made sense. “It’s just...”

He kissed her again, then turned her so they were both staring at her big worktable. “Let me help. I can hand you paper or cut things out, or glue or keep count. Or if I’d only be in the way, tell me and I’ll head out.”