Page 79 of Sterling Fight

“Are you pregnant?” my mother blurts.

“Janet.” Gloria Remington chides, glancing over each of her shoulders like someone nearby might hear. As if the idea of pregnancy is shameful. Her blond hair doesn’t ruffle with the sudden movement due to a helmet of hair spray.

“No,” I defend, my brows pinching. “Would that be the only reason Judd would marry me?”

I’m certain my mother has a list of reasons why I’m not good enough for Judd. Or maybe she’s had a change of heart and now Judd isn’t good enough period while he might have once been perfect for Heather. My mother’s heart is fickle like that.

Judd squeezes my thigh tighter.

“You’d have to have sex to get pregnant.” All heads turn toward Heather’s voice as she returns to the table with a man beside her who instantly looks uncomfortable.

“Could this get any worse?” Judd mutters beside me while I’m narrowing my eyes, assessing the man next to Heather, trying to figure out why he looks familiar.

“Tate Haven.” He clears his throat and holds up a hand in a weak greeting.

“Tate,” I whisper, instantly recognizing the name.

The Havens are another Sterling Falls family with a deep history. One once closely linked to the Sylvers but the details are fuzzy to me. Tate is the second son in the family and the same age as Judd.

In contrast to the Sylvers, who are primarily a dark-haired, blue-eyed family, the Havens have more of a Viking look about them, with a range of blond hair and a mix of eye colors.

Judd stiffens beside me, and I turn toward him, whispering, “What is it?”

Judd numbly shakes his head and stares forward into the room.

Heather cannot take her eyes off Judd. “Seems you weren’t the only one sneaking around.”

“First,” I counter, my irritation instant. “We were not sneaking around.” The second after I speak, I clamp my lips shut. Of course, Heather might think that happened. An engagement on the same day as Judd breaks up with Heather look suspicious. But the engagement was also a misunderstanding. Words said to keep my mother off my back. Then an assumption when Judd was holding out the ring and Heather caught us on the side of the house.

But Judd has been playing into the misinterpretation, introducing me as his fiancée, and I haven’t been denying it either. Even if we promised we’d date for ten days, everything feels a little more real and a whole lot unfinished.

Suddenly lingering over my head is our end date—tomorrow.

Heather Remington does not need to know the truth, though. I don’t owe her anything and her statement implies she’s the one who has some explaining to do.

Judd looks like he’s going to be sick, and I can’t decide if he’s jealous of Tate, or if something else is going on here.

Two more chairs are brought to the table, and I scoot left, causing Judd to do the same.

Tate takes the seat beside Judd, Heather on the other side of him. The additional seating arrangement makes the round table tighter and the tension tenser. I’ve completely lost my appetite and the last place I want to be is in this restaurant. I seek Judd’s thigh beneath the table, and he covers my hand this round, shifting us so our palms meet and our fingers twine together.

Then Judd shifts again. The seating arrangement is close.

“Sorry,” Tate mumbles through gritted teeth, without a hint of sincerity in his apology.

Judd only tips up his chin, letting the brush of Tate’s shoulder against him go, but his jaw is tight. He reaches for his glass of water at the same time Tate stretches for the sugar packets when he could have asked for them to be passed.

Judd and Tate bump arms again.

“Nope,” Judd states, glaring at Tate, a warning coming off Judd that’s nearly frightening. His hand covering mine squeezes tighter.

“It’s a tight fit,” Tate mutters.

“Show some table manners, ask for the sugar to be passed.”

“And risk you tossing it in my face,” Tate scoffs. His low voice carries across Judd’s tense body.

“That isn’t the type of shit I’d do. That’s more your MO.”