“Did I ever tell you how grateful I am to have you as my first husband?”
Noah smiles, his bright white teeth and shiny blue-green eyes making his whole face light up. “Not as much as I’ve told you I’m so happy I took your virginity.”
Even years later, we’re still debating this. “Except you didn’t.” I lean in and give a chaste kiss on his lips. “But we don’t have time for this argument.”
Noah insists on driving, because I’m in no state to be behind the wheel, but thanks to it being so late at night, we make record time to O’Hare and find Fern outside the domestic terminal.
Long brown hair and the terrified look on her face make it easy to spot her. Char has sent photos over the years, but Fern looks so different in person. Older, maybe. Weighed down with stress.
She sits on a bench near the pickup lane, wrapped up in a thick jacket, scarf, leggings, and boots, but she shivers as if she’s still freezing. Chicago winters are a lot harsher than what she’s used to.
Noah says he’ll stay in the car so we don’t get told to move along by airport security, and I can’t get to her fast enough. The passenger-side door slams shut behind me, making Fern flinch.
Her brown eyes widen and lock on mine, and I tell myself to slow down as I approach her. She hasn’t seen me in over ten years, and here I am rushing her like a crazy man.
“Fern?”
“Matt?” she croaks.
She’s out of her seat and in my arms so fast, I don’t even have time to take her all in. From head to toe, I want to do a thorough check and make sure there’s no injuries, she’s been fed well, and she’s healthy, but her arms lock around me and hold me tight.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Fern rushes to get out. “Char …” She takes a gasping breath in between her words. “She … gave me … your … number.”
“What happened, sweetheart? Why didn’t you call me first? I could’ve come pick you up when you landed.”
I wait for the inevitable “They kicked me out” or “I like girls” or any other version of that.
What I get is even more of a shock.
Fern steps back, and her jacket falls open. Her delicate hands support her stomach, rubbing circles over a cute little bump. “This is why I didn’t call first.”
Oh, shit.
When my gaze flies from her belly to her face again, her eyes become shiny.
I have no idea what to say. “I’m guessing you’re not going to tell me you’re a lesbian.”
Yeah, that’s probably not the best thing to blurt out.
Chapter Two
NOAH
Whoa. Even from the car, I can see Matt’s sister’s baby bump. A knock on my window startles me, and I lower it to talk to the security worker.
“You need to move along unless you’re picking someone up or dropping someone off.”
I point to Matt and his sister. “We’re picking her up.” I blast the horn to get Matt’s attention.
They both jump, lost in conversation, but when Matt sees the security guy, he takes Fern’s small carry-on and leads her over to the car.
Fern barely has time to buckle her seat belt before Matt’s turning in his seat to grill her.
“Who is he?”
I reach for him and grip his shoulder hard so he has to face the front. “Mind if I get out of the terminal before interrogating her?” I lock eyes with Matt’s sister in the rearview mirror.
She’s got big brown eyes like Jet, giving her a permanent doe-eyed expression, and her long brown hair sits in waves below her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face.
“I’m Noah, your mannerless brother’s husband.”
She breaks into a smile. “I’m Fern. Your mannerless husband’s knocked-up sister.”
“So, is sarcasm a Jackson family trait?” I ask.
“Defense mechanism,” Matt and Fern say at the same time.
Yikes. With us living so far away and not having much contact with Matt’s family, it’s easy to forget the real issues he and his siblings have.
“So who is he?” Matt asks again.
“Let the girl breathe,” I say.
Fern leans forward. “I already like him more than you, big brother.”
When I glance at Matt out of the corner of my eye, I see his gears turning. He’ll do anything for his brothers and sisters, and I know he wishes he could do more.
“Fern will tell us when she’s ready,” I say.
“Aww, that’s sweet,” Fern says, “but the story is a boring one. Stupid birth control was stupid. You know, I think the ninety percent effective rate is bullshit.”
Her accent is as thick as Matt’s when he’s pissed off.
“So what brings you here?” Matt asks.
“A delayed connecting flight and a whole lot of swollen ankles.”
“Funny,” Matt says. “I meant how can we help? How far along are you?”