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Caressing his cheek, I tell him, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner you like him, I only want you to be happy.”
He sighs. “Do you still love me?” he asks quietly, with pain in his eyes.
Reaching up, I take his face between my hands, making him look at me. “Never question if I love you.”
I hug him tight, and he sways me from side to side. “Fuck, we are a pair, aren’t we? You pregnant, and I’m in love with our best friend.”
“You need to tell Frankie.”
We both glance up when the door opens and Frank asks, “Tell me what?”
Evan takes a step back, watching Frankie.
“Tell me what?” he asks again, closing the door behind him with a worried look on his face.
“I’m p-pregnant,” I stutter.
Evan exhales the breath he has been holding, still clutching my hand.
“You’re pregnant?” Frankie croaks out. “That’s why you got married?”
I shake my head. “No, Frank,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I love Navarone.”
“Son of a bitch is a lucky bastard. What did the fucker say when you told him?” Frankie asks, looking from me to Evan, who never stops staring at him.
“What?” Frankie asks, tying his long hair back in a man bun.
“Nothing,” Evan counters.
The door opens again. “Fuck, can I get a moment?” I yell.
Gunner walks through the door with Navarone on his tail. “Did you figure out a way to tell Rone?” Gunner asks, not noticing Navarone behind him.
“Tell me what babe?” Rone asks, frowning at me.
Better to rip of the Band-Aid, I take a deep breath and say, “I’m pregnant,” my voice shaking, clutching my stomach.
Navarone holds up his hands. “Good one,” he laughs until his smile falls. “Hold the fuck up, you’re actually telling me you’re pregnant? How?”
The boys all snort and I give him a look.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
“Vegas,” I say. We both keep staring at each other while the blood drains from his face.
Gunner clears his throat, “Are we still going to get Mexican with the cousins and little Wyatt—” twirling his finger in the air.
“Fuck, Gunn,” Evan grunts. “Let them take their time to process this shit.”
Navarone leans back against the wall taking another swig from the beer he’s still clutching in his hand, his knuckles turning white.
Sighing deeply, I glance at him. “Can you guys give us a sec, and don’t tell Dad until I talk to him,” I start before biting down on my lip.
“Sure, darling,” Evan drawls, giving Rone the stink eye, leaning against the armrest of the couch. Frankie takes a seat next to Evan with a puzzled look on his face. Gunn nods, pushing his hands into his pockets.
“Guys can you get the fuck out,” Rone growls, and after some muttered swearwords they leave us alone.
“What the hell are we going to do Al?” Navarone drawls.
I shake my head, and softly say, “I don’t know.”
