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“I’m making it my business!” He got up and walked around his desk until he stood a few feet from where she was sitting. They rarely disagreed, and when they did Molly could generally reason with her father. Not this time.
“Jordan has a right to know he’s going to be a father.”
“I’ll tell him in my own time,” Molly insisted.
“You’ll tell him before Thursday,” Ian said.
“Do you seriously believe Jordan will call off the divorce?”
“Yes.”
“The baby isn’t going to affect how he feels about Lesley. He wants his freedom, and my pregnancy isn’t going to stand in his way.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?”
Ian was serious; if she didn’t tell Jordan she waspregnant, he’d do it himself. She almost wished she could let him. Walking over to the phone she punched out the number she knew so well. Jordan answered immediately.
“Are you alone?” she asked.
“Yes, why?”
“I’m coming over.”
“Now?”
“Yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she said and banged down the receiver. Her father smiled approvingly until she walked over to the liquor cabinet and took out a full bottle of his favorite Kentucky bourbon.
“Where are you taking that?” he demanded.
“To Jordan. He’s going to need it.”
Her father chuckled and escorted her to the front door, opening it for her. “Give me a call later.”
“You’re a conniving old man.”
“I know,” Ian Houghton said, beaming her a wide smile. “How do you think I got to be bank president?” The sound of his amusement followed her out the front door.
By the time Molly pulled into the driveway of the home she’d once shared with Jordan, she’d changed her mind no fewer than three times. She might have done so again if he hadn’t already opened the door and stood on the porch waiting for her.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Molly didn’t answer him. Instead she walked into the house and headed straight for the kitchen and took a thick glass tumbler from the cupboard. Next she walked over to the refrigerator, opened the freezer door andfilled the glass with ice. Then she poured Jordan a stiff drink and handed it to him.
“What’s that for?” he asked, frowning.
“You might want to sit down.”
“What’s going on?”
Molly had thought she could do this unemotionally, but she was wrong. She was shaking like the proverbial reed.
“If you won’t sit down I will,” she said, slumping into a chair. She set the whiskey bottle on the table, and it made a loud clanking noise that echoed through the kitchen.
“What’s gotten into you?” Jordan asked. He pulled out the chair across from her. “I realize this divorce thing is more emotionally wrenching than either of us expected, but…” His voice trailed off.
Her eyes started to water. “This doesn’t have to do with the divorce.”
“Then why are you here?”
