Truth was, my parents came from a town on the outskirts of Birmingham, Alabama. My dad was a senator’s son, but my mom was the Rosie type. Her parents worked on a farm. They’d met when she cleaned his room to cover for her sick mama. His parents hated her, and she hated them, but neither of them gave a rat’s ass.

My dad became one of the most powerful attorneys in California, making the rest of their past ancient history. But they were Southern people through and through, and I think the fat-laden food on our dining table was fucking proof of that.

“Park your ass, Baby LB.” I pulled a chair, giving her my own version of being a gentleman. We sat next to each other. I poured her coffee. She liked it black. No sugar. No cream. No nothing. Actually, Rosie avoided dairy altogether, and I noticed those things because every little detail about her was observed, recorded, and filed in my brain. I kept my hands off of her, knowing full well that the minute my fingers found hers, they wouldn’t stop until they dove down between her legs. My parents had no idea what a fucking horny bastard they had raised. I was trying to keep it that way.

“Rosie, I heard you volunteer at a children’s hospital.” Keeley grinned.

“At the Mott’s Children Hospital in Manhattan,” Rosie confirmed, taking a long sip of her coffee. “ICN unit.”

“You must really love kids. Does Dean know he is going to father at least three or four of them?” my sister joked, taking a bite of her greasy bacon. Rosie blinked, her easy smile unfaltering. My gut turned into a knot of hard wires. Because while Rosie still hadn’t told me about her situation—well, she did, but not consciously, and certainly not the details—it didn’t make her reality any less real. I shouldn’t be mad at Keeley. She was direct and playful. I shouldn’t, but I fucking was.

“Thank you, Keeley, for freaking my girlfriend out five minutes into our brunch.” I smirked, casually asking my mom to pass me a bowl of who-the-fuck-knows just to keep things moving. “Two can play this game. I’ll be waiting for your future boyfriend with an arsenal of questions about his sperm quality and parenting methods when the time comes.”

Rosie put a hand on my thigh.

“Dude, it’s okay.” She smiled with her whole face. “Yeah. I have a passion for children. I would love to be a mother one day,” she added after a pause. “And I think your brother would make an amazing dad. There, baby. Just making sure the anxiety is distributed evenly between us.” She patted my cheek and winked.

I laughed because she expected me to, but it never reached my eyes. Or any bone in my body, for that matter.

“I’m rolling with whatever you want.” I clasped the back of her neck, planting a kiss on her temple. “Three kids. Ten kids. One. None. Don’t give a damn as long as it’s with you.”

As I said it, I knew that my balls would never forgive me for the cheese I just poured all over my reputation, but my balls had no say in this. Besides, I didn’t hear them complain when Rosie licked them last night in-between sucking my cock. My dignity was a price I was willing to pay for her happiness, and I was hoping she’d read between the lines and understand that her infertility issues weren’t going to come between us.

Less children = More Rosie for me. No complaints there.

“Awww,” Payton cooed. “Someone grew a heart.”

“What did you put in his drink, Rosie?” Keeley snort-laughed, pretending to fan herself with her hand. “This is not something my brother would say unless he’d lost a bet.”

My mom smiled so big I thought her face was going to collapse into the back of her neck. Dad looked a tad uncomfortable, but it couldn’t have been the topic. He was the one drilling it into my head that I needed to settle down. Dad kept moving his gaze from his Bvlgari watch and back to me. Eli Cole wasn’t a man who was easily irked.

“When are you guys leaving Todos Santos?” he asked.

“Tomorrow morning. We’ll be spending Thanksgiving dinner at the Spencers.” I threw a strawberry into my mouth and chewed. Maybe he was pissed that I was staying with Rosie’s family, but he ought to know that winning her parents over was a priority this year. Rosie’s parents didn’t completely hate me—I helped them get their shit together back when they moved to L.A. and Vicious was in New York playing Romeo to Emilia—but I got where they came from. If I had two daughters and a bastard who boned both of them, I’d be suspicious of his intentions, too.

I needed to rehab my image, make sure they knew chasing a LeBlanc ass wasn’t a hobby of mine.

“Would you be able to drop by afterwards?” Dad smoothed his Polo shirt. “There are a few matters we need to discuss.”

Mom’s face changed, her eyes were pleading with me now.

“Are you guys getting a divorce?” My voice was dry, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, Lord!” My mom scoffed, clutching her pearls. “What are you talking about, Dean? Of course not.”

“Someone dying?” I proceeded.

“No,” Dad said.

“And none of these girls are preggo?” I threw a thumb in Keeley and Payton’s direction. My bet was on Payton. Kid was trouble. But my parents shook their heads in unison, denying this, too.

“In that case, I’ll take a rain check.” I took a sip of my water, leaning back in my chair. “We have a board meeting in our L.A. office after dinner that will take some time.”

“Everything all right?” Dad furrowed his brows. I shrugged.

“We’re twisting Vicious’s arm. He needs to switch branches with Trent. He wants to be close to his parents now that Val is gone.”

As the words left my mouth, I’d realized that Rosie didn’t know shit about it. I forgot to tell her. Didn’t think she’d care. But, of course, she would. Her parents lived in Vicious’s house, and her sister was having his fucking baby. Though I knew Vicious would never sell the mansion—he loved it too much—I still felt like a dick, throwing it in her face out of nowhere.

She leaned forward and my fingers were no longer touching her back, and her lips were no longer smiling, and fuck, I was an asshole. She had every right to give me grief about it.

“You can still make it, even if late,” my dad insisted. Goddamn, what was with him today?

“No can do, Dad. Told you. This could take a while. If you have something to tell me, do.”

“I’d rather not.”

I put my silverware down—slowly—taking the time to scan every curious face at the table before I spoke again. “We’re family. All of us.” My hand found Rosie’s neck, but she pulled away, gently yet firmly, making sure I knew I was in the doghouse.

“Dean, honey.” Mom licked her lips, and Keeley and Payton offered each other puzzled looks from across the table. They didn’t know what the hell was going on either. Thank fuck. The last thing I needed was an intervention or some shit.

Nothing about the situation made sense. Our family didn’t have secrets. Well, there was one, and it was mine, but it was buried six feet under, covered by the dirt of everyday life and the dust of years of denial. The rule was that when we were together, we talked about it freely. Never held back.

Only it wasn’t just us in the room now. Rosie was there, too. It tipped me off, and my jaw locked, my eyes narrowed.

What the fuck has Nina done now?

“That old thing. I still haven’t told Rosie about it.” I rubbed my face tiredly. “Yeah…fine. I’ll throw her in the loop after we’re done here. She’s not gonna give a fuck. I promise you that,” I said, watching as all eyebrows in the room—Rosie’s included—rose in disbelief.

“Please, if you need to say something, do. Don’t mind me. It’d make me feel right at home,” my girlfriend joked. None of us found it funny. My teeth ground together.

“Any reason why you’d choose to bring it up now?” I played cool.

Brunch was turning into the kind of Jerry Springer crap you made fun of when you were doped, slung on your couch drinking ice-cold beer.

Say hi to your current life, asshole. It’s not a TV show; it’s your reality.

“We heard Nina was in New York.” My dad jerked his chin up, and that was when I noticed he hadn’t touched anything on his plate. Eli Cole didn’t eat his fucking cowboy breakfast. That was weird. He would marry greasy food if it were legal. Mom only let him have it once a year.

“I see she gave you an update on her whereabouts.” I reached for the orange juice, my hand a little shaky. “I’m taking care of it.”

Sort of. Kind of. Okay, not really.

“We all know what she wants.” Dad put his hand on mine and made the shaking stop. I raised my eyes to his. We both swallowed hard. “And I think it’s time you face what she has to say, son.”

“You do?” I leaned back, breaking the contact, one of my elbows propped on the table and my other arm snaking around Rosie’s seat. “Who is going to pay for this little adventure? You or me?”

“Me, if that’s what you care about. But it’s not. Your mother and I want to discuss this with you. It’s not a subject to be addressed on the phone.”

Rosie’s hand came down on my knee. Payton and Keeley looked confused, but she was downright frightened. I needed to make it stop. I postponed this conversation long enough. It was time to tell her and face the consequences.

My eyes were still locked in a battle with my dad. He was pissing me off. That almost never happened. I had a very good relationship with my father. We golfed together. Went to football games together. Talked until the very late hours of the night together every time I came home for a visit. Other than drinking together—I had a problem and didn’t want him to witness my ugly side for himself—we pretty much did everything together. He was a source of pride for me. Even my friends dropped by to ask him for advice.

“Fine,” I bit out. “I’ll try to make it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It could be three or four in the morning. These meetings can drag.” Boy, could they. We always took our sweet-ass time when we locked the door to the world outside. And convincing Vicious to do something he didn’t want to do? Yeah, we’d be lucky to leave there before January.