“She’s not his mother,” Wyatt repeated, calmed by the feel of Fiona still leaning against him.
“As soon as Ken figures out who her source is, we’ll be fine,” Brady stated calmly. “But we need to be more careful around strangers, for now. And warn our friends not to talk to a certain blonde reporter. She’s not getting anything out of us, and if she approaches Noah, we’ll be ready.”
“And if anyone’s got any big secrets or crime in the works,” Tasha added, aiming for levity but eyeballing Fiona and Thoreau, “now would be a good time to start confessing.”
Wyatt glanced at Fiona, who looked over at Thoreau with an apology in her eyes.
“Confessing is good,” Ken agreed. “But I think we’ve got a handle on all… Yes, Fiona?”
Fiona had stepped into the middle of the room, her hand raised as if she were in a classroom.
“Fi?” Wyatt asked, shaking his head. What was she doing?
“There’s something I need to say to everyone. But first…” She reached for his hand and, when he took it, she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “I was scared, because of my parents. But it was never about you. I love you.”
He frowned down at her, wondering where she was going with this. “I love you, too, honey,” he whispered back, “but—”
“But you don’t even know what I’m talking about. I know.”
She looked around the room and took a bracing breath before announcing proudly, “I’m pregnant with Wyatt’s baby.”
Thoreau’s mouth fell open, Seamus laughed and Rory started clapping like he’d just seen the most amazing theater production of his life.
“Oh my God. Best. Soap Opera. Ever.” Rory gasped.
***
Wyatt sat on the couch with Noah, listening to the commotion going on upstairs. The meeting was over, and everyone else had gone—including Thoreau—but Fiona, Zach and Jae were dancing to some of the weirdest music he’d ever heard in Zach’s bedroom.
He glanced at the ceiling with a grimace. “It’s perky.”
“K-pop,” Noah said, looking bemused. “Jae says temporary immersion can make it easier to absorb a new language. It grows on you.”
“Well, I won’t miss his Disney phase,” Wyatt told him. Liar.
“Don’t worry, Disney is forever.” Noah took his hat off. “Sorry, it’s getting hot under there.”
“You don’t have to wear that around me, Noah.”
He sighed. “I know. Thanks.”
“Do you think Rory’s going to be okay?”
“About James? No. He’ll worry. So will Younger. I can’t believe Brady convinced him not to fly down there yet.”
“Any idea who Alex is?”
“Not a clue. I bet Younger knows. I can find out if you want. Play the burn-victim card.”
Wyatt laughed in surprise. “Too soon, brother.”
“Maybe.” Noah leaned his head back against the couch cushions. “Is it too soon to say congratulations?”
Wyatt glanced toward the ceiling again. Still dancing. “I can’t believe she told everyone.”
“There were only a few people here,” Noah pointed out. “And we already knew.”
God, the look on her face when she realized… “She handled it like a champ.”
“The point is, she wants the baby. She loves you, you love her, and Hugo’s brother is involved in a way that you don’t ever have to explain to me unless you want to.”
Wyatt ran a hand over his face. “I wouldn’t know how to explain it.” But they were definitely involved in something.
Noah shrugged. “No judgment. We’re way beyond that now. Anyway, it works for Jen and Rory, right? Teamwork makes the dream work.”
Wyatt sat up so fast he startled his brother. “What the fuck, Wyatt?”
“Why did you say that? Did Thoreau tell you to? Why did you talk about teamwork?”
Noah frowned. “I don’t know, Wyatt. I think I saw it on a poster in that office building before the explosion.”
Wyatt started laughing. He couldn’t help it. It was too much.
“What did we miss?”
Fiona was standing in the doorway beside the good-looking babysitter.
Still chuckling, Wyatt got to his feet. “We need to talk.” He turned back to his brother, letting his heart show in his eyes. “Can I call you later?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you answer?”
Noah’s lips compressed, his own eyes bright with emotion. “I promise I will. I love you, brother.”
“Jesus, don’t start or my eyeballs will sweat,” Wyatt pressed his fingers to his eyes, laughing. “And I love you, too.”
Fiona’s car still had a flat, so Wyatt guided her to his truck with a hand on the small of her back. He didn’t say a word as he got in, just made sure her seatbelt was buckled before he pulled out of the driveway.
“Big meeting,” Fiona offered hesitantly.
He nodded.
“Did you have a nice talk with Noah?”
Wyatt grunted in the affirmative.
“When you said we needed to talk, did you mean right away or at some point as yet to be determined?” A thread of frustration was working its way into her voice.
“We’re not fighting,” he informed her conversationally.
“We’re not? Well, that’s good.”
“You left with a suitcase and you hid the sonogram, but we’re not going to do this dance anymore. The one where I bristle, you bristle, and one of us starts a fight? You notice we haven’t done it once since you got back from California?” He was pretty damn proud of that.
“I noticed, Wyatt.”
“I was jealous, because I didn’t understand what it was you wanted,” he continued, turning down a side street full of trees. Had they always been this green? “You might have noticed I’m a work in progress.”
Her hand landed on his leg, squeezing his thigh. “You might have noticed the same thing about me. Especially lately.”
He glanced over at her and nodded once, forcing himself to think about something other than her hand. “You shouldn’t have lied.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It wasn’t about—”
“That’s my baby?”
Fiona bristled a little. “Our baby.”
Right answer.
“And you’re not planning on selling our threesome story to the Enquirer or anything?”
She smacked his thigh so hard he winced. “I thought we weren’t going to fight anymore.”
“We’re not. I love you. I’m in love with you and I’m going to be here for you and that baby for as long as I’m alive.”
“Oh.”
Sucked the wind right out of that bristle.
“And before you start to panic and pack a bag, I’m not going to propose to you again,” he added.
“You’re not?”
He shook his head. “I would like the baby to have my name, but you might want to hyphenate or something like—”
“Nope. I’m good with Finn.”
He swallowed his chuckle. She really didn’t like her last name.
“Are you sure?” she asked softly. “About the proposing thing?”
He found a spot to pull over in the shade and turned off the engine. “I promise you, I will never ask you to choose me over your own safety or the wellbeing of our child. I’d like us to be together, because I’m in love with you. I think I mentioned that, right?”
Fiona nodded. “A time or two.”
“You’ve already been with me through sickness and health. And I’m good with living in sin as long as it sticks.”
She looked stunned. “Why are you being so reasonable?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Get used to it. I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m Mr. Reasonable now. Not as sexy as Mr. Flies Off the Handle in A Jealous Rage, but it’s easier to remember and you’ll learn to love it. Especially because being reasonable doesn’t stop me from spanking your sweet little ass, stealing Thor’s cereal or tea
ching our kid to love Disney.” His lips quirked. “That’s crucial, because I already know all the songs.”
Fiona got to her knees on the bench seat and lifting her skirt to straddle his lap. “And Thor?”
Wyatt watched her face as he skimmed his hands up her thighs. God, she was pretty. “He’ll have to make his own decision, but since he came running after you like you’d stolen his heart along with my truck, and since WTF was his plan to begin with, I’m betting he’ll be ready for us to start on phase three. Maybe four.”
She pushed at his chest and looked at him in confusion. “WTF? What plan? What are you talking about?”
Shit, had he just gotten Thoreau in trouble?
He slid one hand between her legs and beneath her pink panties. “Can we please talk about this later? After you say yes to not marrying me and we celebrate with a quickie in my truck?”
Fiona pressed her forehead against his shoulder and laughed. “Romantic,” she quipped, gasping when he circled her clit and slid one finger inside her. “Oh God. Okay. Yes.”
“Yes?” He added a finger, groaning when she managed to work open his jeans and wrap her fingers around him. “To the quickie or—Oh fuck.”
“You really never give up, do you?” she panted against his mouth, kissing him as he lined his erection up with her sex. “I can’t believe we’re doing this here.”
“You said the alley behind Finn’s has cameras now,” he argued. “I’m trying to stick with the family tradition of public displays in my own way.”
Her laugh was so bright and happy he nearly shamed himself. This was all he wanted. Fiona happy and with him. “Wya—aaaht,” she moaned as she lowered herself onto his cock.
“God that’s good.” Nothing between them. This might be his favorite part of Fiona’s pregnancy. “You feel so good around me, Fi.”
“Yes.” She started to ride him and he held her tight, mindful of the steering wheel. “Yes, Wyatt. I love you so much.”
“Finally got you to say it,” he muttered, biting his lip as she rolled her hips in a way that made his balls tighten. “Guess I was just asking the wrong question.”
She kissed him again, and they both groaned as he started taking control.
He smacked her hip in warning. “Faster.”
When she obeyed, riding him faster, he bit her nipple through her shirt and her moans grew louder in the heat of the cab.
“Tonight,” he said against her breast. “All of us together, Fiona. You, me and Thoreau.”
Wyatt saw it in his head. This time, he wasn’t as worried. Fiona had come back to him. She loved him. She was showing him how much and he was already wishing Thoreau was a part of it. The idea had him as close to coming as Fiona’s tight warning squeeze around his shaft.
He wasn’t going to think too hard about why. Not right now.
“Come for me, Fiona. Come for me so we can get you ready to take us both.”
“Yes.” She arched her back and called his name, and Wyatt thought life couldn’t get much better than this.
But he was willing to taste test that theory.
Chapter Twelve
Thoreau
WMama: Something is wrong with your brother. Thinking Fiona trouble? Please confirm. You know I know.
Bronte: Mama, stop laying down that psychic mojo and don’t send any more group texts until Shelley shows you how. *** He can see this. *** Also, I was gone all afternoon and now Wiley is gassy, so if you’re planning an intervention, I have to miss it. You’re welcome.
Hugo: Everyone thanks you, B. And I’m sure he’s fine. You’re fine, right, brother?
Austen: On what planet would he be fine? Haven’t you seen Twilight? True Blood? The Vampire Diaries?
Shelley: Dracula. Buffy. Blade.
Austen: I’m naming shows with love triangles, not vampires. Why would I be talking about vampires? The point is, he’s been living with Fiona and Wyatt for over a month, so he’s not fine. I’d go check on him now, but it has to wait until I get Royal out of his ice bath. His skin might be too sensitive for product trials. We need another family GPP soon.
Hugo: Are you throwing non-family Guinea Pig Parties now? When did that happen? And Seamus told Younger Thoreau’s having Wyatt test his beer, so I think they’re getting along.
Bronte: OMG Austen, you’re going to kill your husband before we make it to your first wedding anniversary.
Robert: At least he’ll die with tight pores.
Austen: We can vote you off the island again, Nora.
Bronte: He’s having Wyatt test his beer? He doesn’t let anyone but Seamus do that. Doesn’t he know about Fiona? Tasha said he did.
Shelley: Stahp. Texting. Me. *eye roll*
Emerson: What she said without the typo. And Shel, if you take the time to tell us you’re rolling your eyes, it makes you seem less apathetic.
Shelley: Good pro-tip. Continue.
Emerson: I can’t. I’m in a parent/teacher meeting for Barry and the phone won’t stop vibrating. Don’t ask, Mama. I’ll fill you in when it’s over.
Hugo: What about Fiona? Hang on…
Hugo: Oh. Never mind. Nothing is wrong. Everything is great. Are you still there, Thoreau?
Bronte: Younger just told you, didn’t he? Gossipy old women, those Finns.
Austen: You’re a Finn.
WMama: Oops. Sorry, baby. I’ll delete the group thing now. But call me.
And that was his family. A well-meaning tornado of bickering, nitpicking and in-your-business that never failed to let him know he was loved.
His mom hadn’t had to use her special ESP this time. She’d probably gotten the hint that something was wrong when Tasha told Bronte, who found a way to tell their mother that somebody might be pregnant and he was not the daddy.
A baby, he thought again as he pulled into the Finn’s pub parking lot and let the car idle.
The last few days replayed in his head like a movie. A graphically erotic, late-night cable production that, with Wyatt’s issues, should have been more awkward than it was. He hadn’t lied about experimenting. But drunken blowjobs and a few make out sessions didn’t hold a candle to what he’d shared last night with the two people who were already inextricably entangled in his life. It had been more intimate than he’d expected. More revealing.
And it was nearly impossible to look at the situation objectively.
This was your brilliant plan.
He knew it, and when he’d initially “dropped trou” for Wyatt, he’d been confident his plan was the right course of action. He’d seen the same obstacle his sister mentioned—the romance triangle that was destined to fail—and so he’d found a way to overcome it.
You know what pride goeth before, don’t you, genius?
It worked on paper, and Wyatt’s narrow definitions of sexuality had been the only potential hurdle. Or so he’d believed.
There were a few things he hadn’t taken into account, though, on the way to getting what he wanted. The biggest issue? He wanted more.
Thoreau’s intense desire to make this work had never been just about Fiona. He did want and love the woman to distraction. He’d known from the moment he saw her that she was the one for him. Waynes always knew. Which might explain why he hadn’t been sure until yesterday that there could be more than one for him.
One woman and one man.
Realizations like that might be normal for the Finn family, but it was a little unusual in his house. He had to sit with it for a while. Sexual attraction and friendship were things he’d expected and accepted going into this. Things he’d hoped for. But his feelings in bed with Wyatt this morning, and the ache he’d felt on his behalf when Fiona had revealed her secrets… That could turn into something a lot more complicated, if it hadn’t already.
This might have been for nothing. Wyatt and Fiona could even now be realizing that the baby changed everything, and they could leave the Wayne-plex, determined to be the kind of fine, upstanding parents they’d never had t
hemselves—which would mean experimentation time was over, and phase three would never get off the ground.
Fiona with a baby in her arms would be a beautiful sight. And despite her worries, there was no doubt in his mind that she’d make a fantastic mother. Or that Wyatt would turn himself inside out to be the best father he could be. That child would be surrounded with love from all sides.
Thoreau wouldn’t mind being a part of that, but it wasn’t up to him anymore. He’d have to respect Wyatt’s role as the father and back down, if that’s what it came down to. In order to be the friend Fiona was going to need, he’d have to let go of his plans and see what the other two decided to do.
He could do that. Rise above. Step aside. Let what they could have between them go without a fight.
Thoreau slammed the heel of his hand against his steering wheel.
“Fuck that.” He wasn’t tapping out yet.
Thoreau got out of the car and walked swiftly through the pub, keeping his head down when Seamus called his name. He had a goal, damn it. He was at least going to see this part through to the end.
He went straight down to the brewery, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the finished three-pack to set it on the counter. He looked hard at each of the bottles in turn.
These might be the best recipes he’d ever created. The Irish red infused with chilis labeled Wyatt’s Firecracker. Fiona’s Cream Ale—Wyatt’s favorite, the smooth ale with the barest hint of lavender. And the braggot, his mead hybrid, whose label he’d created to print out before he came here. He wrapped the label around the amber bottle, smiling a little as he read the beer’s name. Thor’s Hammer.
His life’s passions combined. The mad scientist of beer and romance, at your service.
If only making a relationship work came to him as easily as brewing did.
With the W.T.F. the pack in hand, he turned to find Seamus at the foot of the stairs again.
“My son’s not talking to your sister at the moment,” he started.
Not what he was expecting to hear. “What?”
Seamus stuck his hands in his pockets. “He called me on my way here. Shelley admitted to seeing Jake’s messages and giving you a head’s-up about Fiona’s trip to California. Since he considers Fi to be one of his closest friends, he’s feeling like shit right about now. So is Shelley, for what it’s worth. I think that’s why she came clean.”
Breathless-kindle Page 16
