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“No.” She burst out laughing and leaned forward again.

“So, you’ve brought me to lunch for conversation you don’t want to have?” He shook his head and smiled, not sure what he wanted to have lunch with her for. Perhaps just to see her again and remind himself of family.

“What’s the matter?”

“What?”

“The frown, it’s not the usual version of irritated you portray.” He stretched his face around, unsure what the difference in his face was. “What’s big bad brother got to be so concerned about?” she asked. He signalled the waiter and gave him his card, then pushed his chair back to stand. Perhaps a walk would do him good. A walk and some mindless conversation about irrelevancies rather than the constant thought on something he couldn’t find any sense in. “Is it the pregnancy?”

His stomach hit the floor at the word, hackles racing up his own back at the same time. “Is everything okay?” Fuck. He scowled and took the card the waiter came scurrying back with, before turning and walking out of the building. Pregnancy. Elizabeth was pregnant. For the second time. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine this time,” she continued. “She’s nearly three months now, isn’t she?”

All irrelevant conversation was gone from thought. Three months meant another six to go, and then the reality that came after that.

“I should be at home,” he snapped, walking out into the fresh air, trying to ignore the conversation. She caught up with him and linked her arm through his, a smile on her face.

“Well, yes. You should. She must be worried about it all. Why are you here?”

He snarled at himself and looked through the avenue down to Central Park, again trying to ignore that very conversation, and walked them towards it. It was a good point, one he was trying to find a reasonable excuse for. There wasn’t one. He could have done everything with Louisa over the phone. No need to be here at all. And yet, he’d come. He gotten on that damn plane and made the journey here knowing full well that Elizabeth wouldn’t have the time to come with him.

“Okay, so if we’re not going to talk about that, what about business?”

“Uninteresting.”

“Oh, good god, Alex. If we’re not going to discuss anything I’d rather go back to work and deal with Conner’s overblown attitude. I’ve got-“

“I’m scared, Evie.”

“What?” she replied, halting them. “What of? I mean, what are you scared about?”

He shook his head, disgusted with his own weakness, and carried on towards the park without her. He’d never been scared of a damn thing in his life, not since childhood. Never backed down. Never been the one in the defensive stance. Always attacked, no care to the outcome as long as he won. But this? A child of his own? Fucking terrifying. Why, he hadn’t worked out yet. Pascal managed it. Was damn good at it, actually. And he likedClaire, too. She was precious. Sweet. What the fuck was going on in his own head he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t useful to anything.

“Alex. Stop. What the hell have you got to be scared about?” Evie asked, catching up with him and putting herself right in front of his eyes. He snarled at that too, annoyed with her for even being here in his confusion. “And stop with the brooding masculinity shit. I’m not intimidated by it. You asked me here, what is the problem?”

“I need Pascal.” He did. Desperately.

“Why?”

He turned from her and carried on, brushing off her arm and digging out his phone again. Rome. He’d go to Rome. Spend a few weeks there listening to Pascal’s voice and hopefully find some sense from it. It had been too long without him and open skin. Too long with only Elizabeth and talk of futures and babies. The thought made him sigh, still annoyed that he couldn’t find the happiness in it and that she did. She was radiant, beautiful, as stunning as always and so desperate to become the family of three she wanted she couldn’t contain her excitement, regardless of the last failure. Meanwhile, all he could do was scowl at the impending onslaught of nothingness and tedium that was coming for them.

They crossed over Fifth, heading into the park, and he aimed straight for the coffee house in the centre. It was too much. He’d never wanted children. Never. Not only was the thought fucking ludicrous, but him, a father? What the hell did he have to offer a child? He barely contained decency in front ofClaire, and that was only because Pascal looked at him as if he might break her any minute. No one really trusted him with her, and rightly so. Even Elizabeth would take her from him and pass her back to Lilah on every opportunity available.

He stopped and looked at the sky, wondering why she did that. It was frustrating, and not helpful given that she was getting ready to give birth to his own child. What was she going to do, keep him from his own child just in case anything happened? Fuck. A year they'd tried until it happened first time. Then she lost it. He wasn't sure what he felt when that happened, morose for her maybe, but they tried again, and now, when the time was upon them again, she looked at him as if he was something scary to her? Took Claire from his clutches whenever she could.

“It’ll be okay, whatever it is,” Evie said, her arm linking through his again. “There’s nothing the great Alexander White can’t do when he puts his mind to it, right?”

Fatherhood might be that one thing he couldn’t do.

“Are we heading somewhere?” she asked, tightening her scarf around her neck. No. He wasn’t. Not really. He was just moving in an attempt to process thought. It wasn’t working.

“Do you think I’m callous?” he muttered, looking at her for answers. That’s what Elizabeth had called him the night she lost the first baby. She said it was probably a good thing because he was too callous to be a father. Too cold. And then she cried. She cried for weeks until he told her they wouldn’t try again if this was the result. That theory appeared to have gotten abandoned somewhere along the line. Fucking happened. And then pregnancy.

“You’re a lot of things, brother, but I wouldn’t say callous. Hard maybe. An arsehole, obviously. But not callous. Callous says heartless. I think we both know you’re not that.”

“Hmm.” He smiled at her and pondered the family resemblance, knowing full well that she was just as cold and methodical in her approach to life. Perhaps all Adlin’s had the same mannerisms. That’s what having a cunt as a father gave them. “I still can’t find him.”

“Who?”

“Our father.” She shrugged her shoulders and leant into him.

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