Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family #7)(76)

I read the message for the twentieth time. She thinks I don't want her. Jesus, out of all the mistakes I've done in my life, this takes the cake, by far. Yeah, it was a shock, but that was a knee-jerk reaction.

I planned to apologize last night, but that went nowhere. While she was here, packing, I was running around setting up our big dinner. I'd planned on this being a big dinner even before I screwed up. This was going to be the night when I told her I loved her and officially asked her to move in. I wanted to wait until after the whole Ayaks business was over because she spent the week before in a frenzy working on their custom illustration. It was my "go big or go home" moment. I thought she'd love a great, romantic gesture. Screw great gestures. This is what you get for waiting for the right moment. There is no right moment. There is just right now.

And right now, the morning after, she isn't answering her phone. Yeah, I respected her wish last night about not calling, but after spending most of the night awake, I broke down and called. Zip. Nada. No answer.



       
         
       
        

My phone rings, and I desperately hope it's Clara. It's not. My baby sister's name appears on the screen.

"Hey!" she greets cheerfully. "What are you up to?"

I debate for a moment telling her what happened, then decide against it. It'll open a can of worms.

"Not much."

"Do you want to have a late breakfast? Pier 39? I'm in the area."

"You got the day off from the gallery?" I ask in confusion.

"Something like that."

"Sure, I can be there in twenty minutes or so."

Twenty minutes later, I'm heading toward Pier 39, making my way through streams of tourists who've gathered around the docks to see the sea lions roasting in the sun.

Summer waves at me from one of the tables. I almost do a double take when I see Pippa with her too. Somewhere at the back of my mind, a little voice tells me something's gone awry. I mean, my family is up for impromptu get-togethers often. But both my sisters just happen to want to have a late breakfast on a workday? Smells like dead fish to me.

"Hey, baby bro," Pippa says, as I sit on the third chair around the table.

"Didn't know you'd be joining us too."

She stretches her arms, closing her eyes. "The morning is too beautiful to spend it inside the office. It's good to be in the sun."

She's not fooling me one bit, but I go with the charade. "Right. Let's order."

After the waitress writes down our order-I just want coffee, my sisters order half the menu between them-and takes off, both my sisters train their eyes on me.

"You look a bit tired," Summer comments. "Slept badly last night?"

"Nah, everything's peachy."

Summer's eyelid twitches, and Pippa's eyebrows climb up to her hairline. The girls definitely know something. I don't know why this surprises me. I should accept the fact that the women in my family always have the upper hand, an ace up their sleeve. Any day now, I'll come to terms with it.

"How's Clara?" Pippa asks. The waitress arrives with our drinks, and the three of us are silent until she leaves.

"In Boston." That much is true.

The girls fidget more, exchange glances. And even though I could torture them for hours-I'm a pro at this after so many years-I'm impatient today.

"We can do this all day," I inform them, pushing my coffee cup away and setting my elbows on the table. "Or we can cut right to the chase. Did you talk to Clara?"

"Before we choose sides, how about you tell us what's going on?" Pippa suggests without answering my question. 

The waitress appears again, this time with the food, which she lays out in front of my sisters. They don't even glance at it. Bad omen. My sisters can't resist food when it's in front of their nose, unless it's for a good cause. Or a lost cause-which I suppose I am.

What's a man to do when his sisters shoot daggers at him with their eyes? Confess all of his sins.

They both listen with rapt attention as I recount everything that happened yesterday. And damn it, saying everything out loud makes it a million times worse.

"Let me get this straight. A woman tells you she's pregnant, and the first thing you ask is if she doesn't want the baby?" Summer looks like she wanted to punch me. Pippa just pinches her nose but remains silent, which is the surest sign I've fucked up so badly, she doesn't even have a comeback.

"Not my finest moment, okay? She was all jerky and couldn't look me in the eye, and I couldn't understand why she'd keep it a secret from me when she had no problem saying it to that woman she'd just met between interviews."