Delilah

Leaving my father’s home the next morning was harder than I expected. It wasn’t as though I was even going far since Ethan’s house was only a twenty-minute drive. But I’d only had a few days with Samuel and Lola, and much to my surprise, the idea of having a dad and a step-mom was quickly growing on me. I was having a hard time reconciling the man I was getting to know with the one who’d broken my mom’s heart, though. He seemed to be everything Ethan had said he was, and nothing like the man my mom had described to me before she died.

I struggled with the conflicting stories, unsure what to think and afraid to trust what my heart was telling me about my father. But it wasn’t something I could deal with at the moment because I had more pressing concerns on my mind, more specifically my possible pregnancy.

Even though I was tempted to hide my head in the sand about the tiny life that was most likely growing in my belly, Ethan wouldn’t let me get away with it. He’d played it cool when he came to pick me up under the guise of helping me move into my imaginary friend’s house—with the exception of his minor freak-out when I’d tried to carry anything out to his car—but the façade dropped the moment we’d pulled out of the driveway.

“Drink this,” he ordered, pulling a bottle of orange juice out of the cup holder and shoving it into my hand. “It’s a good source of folic acid. I was reading about your pregnancy last night, and it’s important to get enough folic acid in the first month to help prevent birth defects.”

“We don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet,” I reminded him, more than a little disturbed by the way he was talking and acting, as if it was already a definite thing. He was reading pregnancy books already, for goodness sakes! That was not normal guy behavior—unless you were an overly protective, alpha caveman like Ethan.

“Lilah,” he sighed in exasperation. “You’re not on birth control, and I’ve filled you with a bucket-full of come over the last couple of weeks. You’ve been more tired than usual, and the smell of bacon had you running into the bathroom to puke. Having the doctor confirm it is a mere formality. You’re pregnant.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled, lifting the bottle to my lips to take a sip.

“Whatever I want? Sounds good to me,” he quipped.

My startled laughter quickly died in my throat when he handed a cereal bar to me next. Followed by a banana.

“You do know that Lola fed me breakfast when I woke up this morning, right?”

His narrowed eyes slid to me for a moment before returning to the road. “You’re eating for two now.”

“Bossy,” I grumbled under my breath. My exasperation didn’t stop me from eating both items during our drive, though. What could I say? I was hungrier than I was irritated.

When we arrived at the doctor’s office, we were quickly ushered to an examination room in the back, even though there were several people in the waiting room already. I’d barely put on the gown I’d been instructed to change into when a nurse came in.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Parker,” she greeted us. “I understand you’re here today because you think Mrs. Parker may be pregnant?”

“I thought we’d be seeing Dr. Reynolds during this appointment?” Ethan barked.

“Ms. Brooks,” I corrected.

We’d spoken at the same time, but the nurse took it in stride. Ethan, however, had not since he was clearly unhappy, considering the way he was glaring at me.

“Yes, Dr. Reynolds will be in with you shortly,” she explained, answering Ethan’s question. “But first”—she handed me a little plastic container—“we need Ms. Brooks to provide a urine sample so we can run a pregnancy test.”

Ethan growled when she said my name, but it only earned him a raised eyebrow from the nurse and a dirty look from me. I followed her out of the room and down the hall to a bathroom. Providing a sample was no problem since I’d drunk all the juice Ethan had brought me. The nurse smiled at me when I handed the container over to her and let me know the doctor would be in to see me shortly, just as soon as they had the results from the test.

Ethan was pacing the floor when I walked back into the examination room. His hands were in his pockets, and he appeared to be deep in thought. I cleared my throat, and his eyes locked with mine.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “Baby or no baby, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course I’m yours,” I soothed. “I’ve admitted it about a million times already.”

“I didn’t like hearing the nurse call you Ms. Brooks.”

“It is my name,” I reminded him.

“But I don’t want it to be,” he rasped, pulling a navy blue jewelry box, embossed with the Harry Winston logo, out of his pocket. He flipped one side of the top open, quickly followed by the other, and I swore my heart stopped in my chest at the sight of the ring inside. The cushion-cut diamond in the center was flawless—and huge. At least five or six carats. It was framed by micropave diamonds and set on a micropave platinum band. The design was delicate, feminine… and perfect for me.

“Oh my goodness.”

“Marry me.” He lifted the ring out of the box and slid it on my finger.

“It fits,” I breathed out.

“Of course it does,” he rasped, his thumb sliding over the band circling my finger. “I had it made for you.”

“You did?” I cried, tearing my gaze away from my finger to look up at him once again.

“I wanted to wait. To propose to you the right way, making it special. But as usual, you’re impossible to resist.”

“I’m glad.” I rose up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Because if the doctor walks through that door and tells me I’m pregnant, I would have wondered if that’s why you proposed to me.”

“It looks like I have perfect timing,” a feminine voice full of laughter interrupted. We both turned to find a woman standing at the door, dressed in a white lab coat with Dr. Reynolds stitched above the upper left pocket. “Congratulations on your engagement. And your pregnancy.”

I barely registered anything else she told me during the appointment. I wasn’t too concerned, though, because Ethan took notes. He also asked questions, really embarrassing ones about our sex life too. When we made it to his house a couple of hours later, after stopping to pick up more pregnancy books on the way, I was exhausted. I hardly noticed the grandeur of his home, heading straight back to the master bedroom for a nap.

My head was still fuzzy a couple hours later when I woke up. After going to the bathroom and washing my face, I tossed on my robe and went in search of Ethan. The house was huge, and I poked my head into no less than ten rooms by the time I made my way into the living room.

“This isn’t a house, it’s a freaking mansion,” I mumbled to myself, just as the doorbell rang.

In hindsight, I only had my tiredness to blame for what I did next. Wandering towards the foyer, I pulled open the door without looking through the peephole to see who it was.

“Lilah?”

“Uh, hi, Dad,” I replied lamely.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes dropping to my short, pink robe. They snagged on my left hand, and the ring I wore there, before moving back up to my face and taking in my sleepy eyes and mussed hair. His face heated, and his eyes narrowed in anger.

“Fuck,” Ethan groaned from behind me, right before his hand slid to my lower back and I felt the heat of his body against mine.

“Ethan,” my father growled. “What the fuck is my little girl doing here and dressed like that?” He was shouting by the time he finished.

“I can explain. And I will. But first,”—he tugged me further inside the house, glaring at my bare legs—“Lilah is going to promise me she will never, ever answer the door dressed like this again.”

Awesome, both of the most important men in my life were pissed.