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Brakes, Tate. Pump the brakes!
“Nah,” Jude says with a shrug. “But you can’t get out of the question.”
Staring down at Funky, I wonder how to explain thatright nowis my favorite part. “I was happy to talk with Callum. I think we made great progress.”
His intense stare burns into me, but I refuse to look at him. “Hmph.”
I decide to steer the conversation back to this morning. “I’m not here to hurt, Jude. I’m here to help. I thought after yesterday maybe you could see that.”
He stiffens and I can’t help but finally look at him. Statue-still with his creepy mask, he reminds me of a wax figure in a horror museum. “I could. I mean, I think I’m beginning to understand,” he admits, voice rough and gritty. “I just panicked.”
This piques my curiosity. “You panicked? Why?”
“I didn’t want you to leave…” He trails off and I supply the word he doesn’t say.Me.I didn’t want you to leaveme.
“Why?” I probe. “Two days ago, you wanted to get rid of me.”
He sighs heavily and then meets my eyes. “I, uh, like having you here.”
A small grin tugs at my lips despite all the warning bells ringing inside me. Yes, a lot of money is on the line for me making strides with Jude, but it’s more than that for me. Getting to see beneath his mysterious, shrouded exterior feels like a gift.
I open my mouth to encourage him to say more, but then Violet’s voice echoes from nearby.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, slowly entering the room where The Doors croons in the background and my heart does happy, anxious little flips.
Jude jumps to his feet. “What is it?”
She smiles at him and then looks at me. “Aubrey, Hugo, Spencer, and the baby are here. Aubrey asked if she could speak with you for a moment before having a family meeting with all of them.”
I shoot Jude an apologetic look. “Talk later?”
He gives me a curt nod.
It’s a promise and one I’m going to hold him to.
Aubrey paces the library, wringing her hands in front of her, a worried frown marring her pretty face. She’s beautiful and it’s no wonder Hugo and Spencer are crazy about her. Seeing her so upset, though, makes my heart hurt for her.
“What’s bothering you?” I ask again, voice calm and reassuring. “Just get it off your chest.”
She halts to a stop, bites down on her trembling lip, and gingerly touches her stomach. “I have to tell them about the pregnancy. I’m just…afraid.”
I study her, searching for clues and finding none. “Of what?”
“Of everything,” she whispers, eyes welling with tears. “For one, I don’t even know whose baby it is.”
Nodding with understanding, I rise from the sofa and take a step toward her. “Do you care?”
She lets out a sad laugh. “No. I mean, I feel like it’ll be loved no matter what. It feels like our baby. Not just Spencer’s or Hugo’s.”
“Are you afraid of their reactions?”
“No,” she says quickly. “They’ll be happy, I’m sure.”
“What is it then? Afraid you’re too young to be a mother?”
Again, she shakes her head. “If Willa can be a mom at eighteen, so can I.”
“Maybe your fears are something that can be smoothed over by talking to your two men,” I say gently. “I think, deep down, you know that since you brought everyone together for this meeting.”
