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“It’s nothing. Whiskey, please.”
She hands it over. “What happened with Keely?”
“How do you know it’s something with her?”
“She’s the only person in the world that could drive you to such melodramatic antics. Go on, tell me what happened.” She leans against the railing beside me.
I take another pull. My fucking mother. I shouldn’t be surprised—when she’s not locked in her room mourning Dad, she’s insightful and clever, probably the smartest one in the entire organization. I just wish she’d aim that fucking intellect of hers somewhere else.
“She lied to me,” I say through my teeth. “The whole time, she was lying to me.”
“About what, dear?”
“About everything.” I grip the bottle tightly.
“Well, that’s dramatic. Tell me what happened.”
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. “She’s pregnant.”
Mom doesn’t make a sound. I glance at her, and she’s staring at me, frowning. “And?” she asks.
As if what I just said wasn’t enough.
“And she’s been pregnant from the start. She knew, even from the beginning, but she didn’t tell me.” I can hear her conversation with Jamila all over again. The pain in her tone. The way she’d said she didn’t want her baby to be aCrowley.
Like my name is a slur.
She didn’t want her baby to be like me.
“Oh, dear,” Mom says and lets out a soft laugh. “That’s actually impressive, but I should’ve known. She wasn’t drinking.”
It clicks into place. Keely hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol since we started all this, and I kept making excuses for her—she was tired, she wanted to stay sober, a thousand different reasons.
Except for the obvious one.
“I should’ve noticed sooner,” I say through my teeth. “But I was too fucking busy feeling happy for once.”
“Don’t get all self-pitying on me, darling.” Mom squeezes my shoulder. “This could be a good thing.”
“How?” I ask, glaring at her. “How is it a good thing that the woman I want to be with has been lying to me about our child?”
“She’s keeping it, for one.” Mom’s always so damn practical. “That’s a good sign. It means you have a chance to be in her life. Youarethe father, I assume?”
“That’s what she says.”
“You should get confirmation of that.”
“Mother,” I say with a snarl. “She hasn’t been with anyone else.”
“Are you sure? Don’t look at me like that, darling, I’m only being honest here.”
“I’m sure.” I grip the whiskey bottle tightly. “I’m more than sure.”
Mom shrugs as if that’s of no consequence. “Then give her some time to settle down. You both had a shock, darling, and if you go rampaging after her, you’ll ruin any chance you have at getting her back.”
I laugh bitterly. “She doesn’t want her child to be a Crowley. She said so, out loud. That’s why she’s been keeping it from me, because she finds our family so repulsive.”
“Interesting,” Mom says, more to herself. “There are women out there in this city that would give up a limb to be a Crowley. And yet the one woman you want doesn’t want anything to do with us. I should be insulted, but I understand. I even told her to get out while she could.”
