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Except Genna’s got to go and be all fucking practical.
My phone rings as I settle back behind my desk. I grimace, pull it out, and glare at Carson’s name. Seems like everyone wants to keep me from getting damn work done.
“Brother,” I say, answering. “I’m shocked you’re not still in bed nursing a hangover.”
“Don’t be a prick,” Carson grumbles. “How’s the wife?”
“The wife is happy. How’s being my favorite eldest brother?”
“Shitty. Nolan’s on the war path. Thinks you’re a damn traitor.”
“Nolan needs to learn to worry about his own business.” I clench my jaw, making a mental note of this.
“I just wanted to warn you. You can’t keep ducking father forever. You need to talk to him.”
“I’ll do it soon.”
“That’s not good enough.” Some rustles on his side of the line. “Finn, you’ve always been a pain in the ass, but you’ve also always done the right thing. Dad knows it, I know it. We all understand how hard it must be, getting engaged to a woman you don’t know. But blowing it all up like this? Fuck, man.”
“Did you just call to lecture me again?”
He lets out a breath. “No, I didn’t. I called to say tell Dad today. Tell him right now. Get it over with.”
“I’ll tell him soon.”
“It’ll hurt less coming from you. But hell, you’re going to do whatever the fuck you want anyway, right? Good luck with that.”
He hangs up. I toss my phone onto the chair Genna was sitting in a second ago, anger rolling down my spine.
Carson’s not wrong. I need to tell Dad, get it over with. Genna’s not wrong either. I need to decide what I want out of this relationship before I end up hurting Dara by mistake.
Except nothing’s easy.
I want to keep this marriage a secret for another day or two. I want to enjoy this peaceful time with Dara before the family starts making demands of us. I want to know her, really know her, not just with my tongue and my hands.
Only I’m not sure how I can do that with the family inserting itself into our lives.
One more phone call. I grab it from the floor, find Dara’s name, and tap it roughly. It rings a few times, but finally, my wife answers, sounding sleepy. “Hello? Finn?”
“Sorry to wake you,” I say, some of my tension easing away at the sound of her voice.
“No, it’s fine, I should get up anyway. Where are you?”
“I’m at my office.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you left.”
“I got up early and figured you needed to sleep. You’re pregnant, you need rest.”
“Right. Pregnant.” She sighs heavily. “I have T-minus five minutes before the puke fest begins.”
I grimace. “We’ll take you to see a doctor tomorrow. I’ll set the appointment when we’re off this call.”
“Okay,” she says, yawning.
“Listen, I called to say, there’s a credit card in my nightstand. It’s a black Amex. Grab it, get Kathryn to take a day off work, and buy yourself whatever you want.”
She’s quiet for a second. “Is this some kind of bribe?”
