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I turned to look at him, my hands sliding into my pockets. “I guess we have different definitions of accomplishment.”
Cauldron held my gaze, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt like he intended to sit on the couch until she came home.
“Is this something you even want?” I asked. “Or somethingshewants?”
Cauldron considered his response before he spoke. “I have my reservations. But if I’m going to do this with anyone, it’s her.”
“Your life is going to be piss for the next twenty years.”
He stared. “Had a bad childhood?”
I looked away and ignored the question.
“You can’t have the good without the bad. You’ll never have a son stand at your height unless you hold him in your arms first.”
“You know what I don’t like about kids? They grow up to be people—and I hate people.”
Camille came down the stairs at that moment, wearing a black cocktail dress that hid her small stomach. She had her clutch under her arm, her thick hair in shiny curls. She only had eyes for Cauldron as she said goodbye. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
He kissed her and let her go. Then he looked at me. “I don’t see how this is going to work in a couple months.”
“Figure it out—because you made a deal.”
* * *
Camille sat beside me at the table. Dinner had already been served, and the plates were being cleared. There was a crowd around the prime minister, and my opportunity hadn’t arrived yet.
Her hand went to her stomach under the table. “I’m not sure if Cauldron told you—”
“He did.”
“We started trying, but we didn’t think it would happen so quickly.”
My eyes were focused across the room, watching the way the prime minister’s wife sat there in silence because no one was interested in speaking to her. Camille couldn’t distract her because she wasn’t even part of the conversation.
“I’m so excited.”
Was she still going on about it?
“Is there something wrong, Bartholomew?”
“No.” I kept my gaze focused.
“You just seem more…angry than usual.”
“I guess I’m a little tired of all the pregnancy talk.” Maybe that would shut her up.
She turned quiet.
Thank God.
“I thought you would be happy for us.”
“I’m not the kind of guy who’s happy for other people.”
“Because you aren’t happy for yourself?” she snapped.
A little smile moved on to my lips. “Guess you could say that.”
