Chapter Twenty

Emmett

As I leave work, I find a voice mail waiting on my phone. I expect it to be from Jenna and nervously check it, hoping that whatever she needed wasn’t too urgent. But it’s Aubrey, my older sister, who greets me.

“Hey, little bro, I have a small favor to ask. Frank’s mom fell and broke her hip, so he has to go visit her and see if she needs anything. He should be back in a day or so. Would you mind giving me a hand with the kids tonight and maybe tomorrow?”

I call her back in the car and she picks up right away. “I got your message,” I say. “Of course I’ll come help you out. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.” She sighs, and I can hear tiny voices hollering in the background.

“It’s no big deal, really. I didn’t have any other plans tonight.” Because Jenna doesn’t need me—and what if she never needs me again? That’s not a road I want to go down—and the thought of sitting around my penthouse all alone sounds like torture.

I drive over to find her house in complete chaos, but Aubrey seems unfazed, so I guess this is normal. While she nurses and bathes baby Dustin, she puts me to work juggling a bored Kimberly, a cranky Elijah, and a giggly Brooklyn who takes off running at every opportunity. Now, mercifully, all three kids sit transfixed by a Disney movie in the living room, and all I have to do is bounce Dustin on my knee while Aubrey cooks a pot of chili for dinner. But it’s still total insanity.

“You were great with the little boogers,” Aubrey comments over the noise of sizzling onions and ground beef.

I snort. “I managed to stop them from killing themselves or each other, you mean.”

She shrugs. “Sometimes that’s plenty of work on its own. Especially for four kids all under six years old. Still, I’d say you’re a natural.”

“Thanks?” I reply cautiously, sensing a trap.

She dumps in cans of kidney beans and crushed tomatoes. “So, how are things going with Jenna?” she asks way too casually.

And there it is. But before I brush her off with a cursory fine, I hesitate.

To be honest . . . I’m totally lost here, and I could use some advice. What the hell do I say, though? In the beginning, I kept my arrangement with Jenna on the down-low because we weren’t supposed to ever be anything worth talking about, and now it’s too late. I can’t admit that she’s pregnant, because my family would just think I’m a total shithead for not immediately dropping down on one knee. But I can’t make an honest woman out of her . . .

Can I? Do I even want a serious relationship, let alone marriage? Does Jenna?

All I know is, I’m not ready to let go of her. It’s only been five weeks and she isn’t even showing yet, but I can’t wait to see her with a round belly and full breasts and know that it’s my baby inside her. The thought of never kissing her again, never listening to her ramble about literature and history and philosophy, never spending another night with her beside me, never holding our baby in my arms . . . it’s unthinkably painful. And it’s all self-inflicted. I thought I could walk away unscathed. I had no idea what the fuck I was signing up for, and now all I want is Jenna and our baby.

For the first time in my life, I want to stick around. I want to give her and the baby everything they need. I want to be part of their lives.

I swallow past a dry throat, floored by the revelation. The loud movie and the sound of Aubrey’s spatula scraping the pot fill the suddenly awkward silence. She half turns to look at me, her brow furrowed in concern. “Emmett?”

I heave a loud, overwhelmed sigh. Maybe I can stick to half-truths. “I . . . really like Jenna.”

Aubrey suppresses a smile. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I really don’t know. I don’t think I’m at all what she wants. What do I do?”

“Well, I’d start with telling her how you feel,” Aubrey says in a duh tone, leaning down to taste-test the chili.

I can guess why she sounds exasperated; she probably thinks my problem is just more of my typical aversion to commitment. And I can’t even begin to explain all the ways this time is different. “I’m not just being dense or immature here. We had that talk in the beginning, and she’s already said she’s not interested in a relationship. So, what would be the point? I’d just humiliate myself and cut short what little time I have left with her.”

Aubrey hums thoughtfully as she roots through the spice cabinet. “Look, I sympathize. Our parents’ marriage was horrible and the divorce was even worse. After all the sh—, I mean, stuff they put us through, I don’t blame you for being skittish.” She throws in a generous pinch of salt and another of pepper. “But even though it’s difficult—” She abruptly twists to call over her shoulder, “Sugar pie, don’t grab the kitty like that, it’s not nice. Don’t pet him if he doesn’t want to be petted.” Kimberly sulks away from the cornered cat, and Aubrey turns back to the bubbling pot. “Sorry. What was I saying?”

How did she even see that? I was facing the right direction and I still didn’t notice what was going on in the living room. Guess it’s true what they say about parents growing eyes in the back of their heads.

“You were explaining why I’m a coward,” I reply dryly.

Aubrey’s two years older than me, so she remembers that whole ugly mess even better than I do . . . yet she’s been happily married for ten years. She got over it somehow, and I just missed the memo. Although taking over Dad’s job might have had something to do with it.

“You’re not a coward. You were traumatized.” She puts a lid on the pot, turns down the heat to simmer, and sits at the kitchen table beside me. “I know it’s hard and scary. But the best thing to do is follow your heart. Even if Jenna says no, it’s better to find out how she feels than spend the rest of your life regretting the missed chance to speak up.” She reaches out to cover my hand with hers. “Don’t let fear control you. Sure, people might make mistakes, but life means taking risks sometimes. And we should never stop living.”

My sister’s words hit me right in the chest, and I drag in a deep breath. Into her earnest gaze, I can’t reply anything but, “Okay. I’ll try.”

I have no idea what trying involves, but I know I’m sure as hell not ready to give up on Jenna.

Aubrey beams at me and squeezes my hand before letting go. “That’s the spirit. Now, you’re staying for dinner, right? It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

I don’t even check my watch. “Sure, I’d love to.” Going home alone is the last thing I want to do.