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I scowl. “Okay, I don’t—Actually, it doesn’t matter. I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone says.” Wynn shakes his head as he laughs softly, but there’s no trace of a smile on his face. He’s staring at his mug, tracing his finger around its rim. “But are we fine? Like, for real? Or is it just something we say because we’re not fine, but we don’t want anyone to know that?”
His question, which is loaded with more ammo than the gun on my belt, is met with silence. I open my mouth to respond, only to come up empty for words. If the emotion behind Wynn’s words is any indication, I have a feeling he’s the one who needs to talk and not the other way around. Normally he’s one of the most levelheaded guys I know, but now I notice the exhaustion in the lines bracketing his eyes. The way his tie is slightly crooked as opposed to normal, strait-laced Wynn. I assume he and Marshall must have a house reveal today—the brothers always wear suits on reveal day, and they encourage the new house owners to dress up for the occasion too.
“Wynn, is everything okay?” I ask, my brows lowering as I search my friend’s face. “Do you need to talk about something? Did something happen to Noelle?”
I may not completely believe in love for myself, but I know the love story Wynn and Noelle are living is a genuine, once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that will endure the test of time, much like Marshall and Jess’s. But if something has happened or…
“No. My wife is fine. Well, actually…” For a moment, the shadows are gone from his face, replaced with a joy that can only mean one thing. “You have got toswearto me you won’t say anything about this because the only other person who knows is my dad, but—” he lowers his voice “—Noelle’s pregnant. She’s due somewhere around Christmas.”
I lean back in my chair. “Well, well, well. Congratulations, Mr.-We’re-Gonna-Wait-At-Least-A-Year-To-Get-Pregnant.” Despite my otherwise crappy mood, I find myself grinning. “I promise, my lips are sealed, but wow. Three new babies in the family in one year. I’ll bet your mom and sisters are going to go crazy when they find out. Speaking of, how is Sarah doing? I didn’t really get the chance to talk to her and Chris last night, but she looks good.”
“From my understanding everything’s going well. She’s due in less than a month, I believe. Noelle and I are debating whether to wait until after their baby’s born to share the news about her pregnancy. She’s about twelve weeks along, but she’s small so she’ll probably be mostly baby, which means she’ll likely start showing sooner than later. We just don’t want to steal Sarah and Chris’s moment, especially since this will likely be their last. Sarah’s thirty-seven, so I was surprised when they even announced their pregnancy back in January.”
If only half the people I dealt with in my line of work could be as filter-less as Wynn. Sure, he’s a straight-shooter and he doesn’t say much if he doesn’t know you, but if you’re a close friend, well, as you can see, he pretty much just says whatever he’s thinking. That came more from his mother than his father, hands down.
“Yeah, well, you’re only a few years behind her,” I tease. I’ve always used the fact that he’s one year my senior to my advantage. “I heard they lowered the age for when you start receiving AARP mail to thirty-four. Something about wanting to be more inclusive and not having it an odd number like fifty-five anymore.”
Wynn snorts out a laugh. “What, did they ask my little sister for advice? Ember can’t stand odd numbers—she has to have her thermostat in the car on an even number and usually stops reading on an even-numbered page. I don’t understand it, though, and really don’t have any desire to.”
“What is Ember if she’s not quirky, though?”
Wynn chuckles, but even as he does, that seriousness I felt earlier starts to creep back into his expression. There’s something he’s not telling me, and I don’t know what it is. Conversations between Wynn and I usually don’t involve much small talk, which is why I enjoy them so much. The only thing I can think of is that it relates to the project with the teens, and I hope that guess is wrong.
My phone rings and I pull it from my chest pocket, answering even though I don’t recognize the number. “Seth Johnson.”
The statement is meant with silence.
I pull the phone from my ear to make sure I answered it, then try again. “Hello?”
More silence, and I think I hear a pen click on and off several times. Then, before I can say anything further, the line goes dead. I frown as I lower the device, trying to process what just happened. Or didn’t happen, I guess.
“That was strange,” I mumble, setting my phone on the table in front of me. I stare at it for a moment as if that’ll provide an answer of who just called, then shake my head and glance up at Wynn. “Sorry. Guess they got the wrong number or something. Did you have something you, uh, wanted to talk about?”
But Wynn’s not looking at me. His gaze is focused directly on my phone, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight. Based on his loosely fisted left hand and his narrowed eyes, he’s irritated. Not an emotion Wynn shows very often.
“Wynn?” I ask, tempted to snap my fingers under his eyes. “What’s going on that you’re not telling me?”
“What was the phone number?”
My brow furrows. “What?”
He nods towards my phone. “That call you just got—What was the number it came from?”
Confused, I unlock the device and go into my recent calls, then tell him the number. “It was probably just some kid making a prank call. I’m not too concerned about it, though. It could easily just be a number I don’t have in my contacts or a telemarketer.”
“Seth, that wasn’t a random teen or telemarketer,” Wynn says slowly, and the tone of his voice makes my blood run cold. “That was your father.”
Chapter Sixteen
Seth
Ihaven’t gone to the station yet. I probably would’ve been better off telling Wynn I couldn’t meet and going straight to my office, because this morning’s turn of events doesn’t make me happy, but it’s too late for that now. Wynn would’ve gotten ahold of me one way or another, so I might as well just face the music.
Shoot. Now I’m starting to sound like Ember.
“I’m not sure I understand.” John lowers the contract, slowly pulling his reading glasses from his nose. “Wasn’t this settled last year? J & J Architecture chose to keep the peace by not taking you to court. I mean, yes, they have the right to change their minds, but why? It’s not like Bryant Bros. was paid or took something from them.”
