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I push my plate away, dips my fingers in the bowl of water with lemon, and dry them on my serviette. “That was magnificent,” I say to Pam as she comes over to collect my plate. “Please, thank Pierre for me.”
“I will,” she says, going back into the kitchen.
I have a sip of my drink, then meet Mum’s steady gaze. “What’s going on?” she asks softly.
I can’t put it off forever. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Kip and Damon exchange a glance and sit back. Dad looks at them, then back at me. “All right,” he says, amused. “Who have you knocked up?”
For the first time since I was about twelve, when I walked into part of the set in a school production of Hamlet and a ‘tree’ fell onto the main actor, who was mid-soliloquy, my face heats. Holy shit, I’m twenty-eight. Why the fuck am I blushing? Kip’s eyebrows rise as he notices, and Damon starts laughing.
“Seriously?” Dad says. “Jeez, I was joking.”
Mum stares at me with delight in her eyes. “No…”
I huff an exasperated sigh. “Yeah. I’m gonna be a dad.”
“Saxon!” she squeals. “Oh my God! How did it happen?”
“You want me to draw you a diagram?”
“Don’t be cheeky. Who is she? Where did you meet her? And why haven’t we met her yet?”
“Her name is Catriona O’Clery, Catie. She’s five-foot-ten, a redhead, with an Irish accent, and she’s nearly nineteen weeks pregnant.” I think that about covers it.
“Nineteen weeks!” Mum looks horrified. “Why have you waited so long to tell us?”
I wince and scratch the back of my neck. “I’ve only just found out.”
“What?”
I sigh again and tell them how it happened—that it was a one-night stand, that Catie left afterward, and that the next time I saw her was at my office four months later, with a bump. Kip and Damon watch with much amusement as I try not to squirm. How do parents always manage to make you feel fourteen even when you’re grown up?
“Run out of condoms, did you?” Dad teases.
“No,” I reply, a tad indignant. “I always use them.”
“Should’ve double-bagged,” Kip says, and I snort.
Mum tries not to laugh. “Accidents happen, I guess.”
“I may have been over-enthusiastic.”
“That’s my boy,” Dad comments, and we all laugh.
“Tell them the rest,” Damon says.
I meet my mum’s eyes, and can’t help but smile. “It’s twins.”
Now she does laugh, and Dad grins. “You poor bastard.”
“Neal,” she scolds. “Oh, Saxon. Well, isn’t that just the most amazing news.” She comes over and puts her arms around me.
A lump forms in my throat. “Thank you for being understanding.”
“A baby is always a blessing, sweetheart, no matter where it comes from.”
“That’s what I told her,” I say. “She thought I was going to be cross.”
