One for the Money

His dark glance communicates everything about the situation—his frustration, his impatience. His fear for the wife and unborn child he loves. “What?”

“I need to speak with you. Privately. Now.”

He reluctantly steps into another room with me. “I know you’re the resident peacemaker, but don’t tell me you’re buying that bullshit. It’s not your job to help our mother remain the social butterfly of Bishop’s Landing, no matter how much guilt she lays on you.”

The venom in his face takes me aback. “Leo. It’s me.”

He glares at me for another few seconds before dropping his head. “Jesus.”

I approach him carefully and offer a small hug.

He squeezes me back, fierce and hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

It was easier to survive the gladiator arena that was the Morelli household if you had backup. So we formed little allegiances. Me and Leo. Lucian and Sophia. Carter and Daphne. Tiernan was the odd man out, because of the way our father raised him. And Lisbetta was still too young for most of it. Leo has seen me at my worst. He saw my devastation after things ended with Lane. And I witnessed him in his darkest hour.

“I’m afraid,” Leo mutters, his voice low and hoarse.

“What’s happening? Can you tell me?”

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t fucking know. Haley says she’s fine, but I see the way she looks at me. I don’t think she’d really tell me if she were worried now. She thinks I’m being over the top, but what the hell else am I supposed to do?”

It’s not a good thing if Haley feels like she needs to hide the situation from him. It means she could be very worried. It also means that Leo is being… overbearing. It’s not that his concern is unfounded. It’s that he approaches everything like his own personal crusade. If she’s unwell, she needs support and love and care—not him starting World War III with our mother.

“Listen,” I say. “I’ll cancel the baby shower. I’ll handle everything. You go upstairs and rest. Everyone will understand.”

He paces away. “No. Haley said she wants the baby shower.”

I wait, knowing he’ll arrive there in his own sweet time. Rushing him won’t help. “I promise no one will blame you if you cancel. I’ll handle Mom.”

A hard breath. “Fine. We’re having it. But she remains seated the entire time. Nothing that forces her on her feet. Nothing that might stress her out. And no opening presents. The last thing she needs is to get everyone’s germs on her.”

“Done,” I say, my voice calm.

This is part of event planning. It’s not all about food and drinks and decorations. It’s about managing people under stress. Leo was always going to threaten to cancel the baby shower. And I was always going to wait it out. My mother should know that by now. Then again, she’s never understood her children. It’s something that frustrates her, and sometimes, in her private sorrow, pains her.

He gives me a hard look. “How’s the engagement going?”

We talked on the phone after the infamous Morelli family dinner that he missed. That was two weeks ago. Two weeks of my family hounding me to set a wedding date. Or a huge engagement party, at the very least. Leo knows that it’s fake, but he’s worried about it.

That makes two of us.

When does this end? That question haunts me, along with the realization that I don’t want it to end. Since that first night, Finn has spent almost every night at my loft, in my bed. First he takes me somewhere interesting in the city. Then we go back to my place. He’s shown me new heights to sexual pleasure, things I didn’t even think were possible.

And every night since then he’s worn a condom.

He did end up sending a morning-after pill to my place, which I took.

It’s almost a religion to him. And I understand why. We aren’t really engaged. We aren’t really together. It’s fake, and I need to remember that. No matter how good it feels. No matter how intimate it feels in the moments we hold each other after sex.

He’s always gone in the morning.

I wave my hand. “Don’t think about that right now. We’re going to have a nice, relaxed afternoon with friends and talk about fun baby stuff.”

“Since when are the O’Connors friends? Mother hates them.”

“She envies them, brother mine.”

He shakes his head. “I know I’m being overbearing, but if anything happens to Haley…”

I don’t give him platitudes. Nothing will happen. Women have babies every day. It’s totally natural. Because I can’t guarantee it will be fine. Complications happen every day, too. When you’ve seen the darker side of life, you understand that. Even an upbringing sparkling with diamonds didn’t shield us from that.

The next hour goes by in a whirlwind of preparation.

Then the guests start arriving.

Lisbetta, Sophia, and Bianca arrive together, bearing oversized pastel gift bags. I’m going to guess they hit the Disney store. Emerson brings Daphne himself, promising to pick her up when she texts. My mother greets her friends when they arrive. They drink mimosas and reminisce about their own children.