“Do you really care?”
“Not really. Don’t be thinking dad’s going to give it to you.”
I scoffed. “I learned a long time ago that dad won’t give anything to me, including love or respect.”
“Can you blame him? Mom died.”
“If he needs to blame someone, he can blame himself. He’s the one that got her pregnant.”
“He loved her, and your birth took her away.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re blaming a baby. I never met mom, but if she was as wonderful as you and dad make her out to be, she’d be disgusted by you both.”
I hung up before he could say anymore.
“Anne? Are you okay?”
I turned to see Bran standing in the doorway to the balcony.
“Yes.” Only then did I feel the tears on my cheeks. I wiped them. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Were you talking to Peter?” He sat in the chair next to me.
I nodded. “Normally I can handle it. I suppose it’s the hormones.”
“We have a doctor’s appointment coming up. Should I arrange for us to go in sooner?”
Of course, he’d be worried about the baby. I put my hand on my belly. “No. Everything is fine. Really. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
He nodded, putting his hand over mine. “I can work from home if that would be better.”
I put on a smile. “No. Go to work. I’ll be fine. I have things to do anyway.” Before he could tell me to be careful, I said, “Dax will drive me.”
“You won’t have to pretend to be a couple, will you? I’d rather drive you if that’s the case.”
I laughed. “No. I think you scared him off.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Why were you talking to Peter?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Family drama.”
He tilted his head. “Anything you need, Anne, I’ll get for you. You don’t need them. Not when they hurt you like they do.”
My chest filled with warmth. How had I missed how kind and generous he could be when I first met him?
“Thank you. You’ve given me so much already.” I reminded myself that his generosity was payment for the child I carried for him.
He stood. “See you at dinner?”
“I’ll be here.”
He stared at me for a moment. If we were a real couple, he’d probably kiss me goodbye. Instead, he squeezed my hand and then left.
I took out my tablet and did a search on Breguet and other watches. None of them quite fit what I wanted to get for Bran. I picked up the stylus, opened the drawing app, and began to sketch the vision of the watch I felt would fit Bran. Strong. Elegant without being flashy.
When I finished, I did my daily exercises and showered. Then I had Dax drive me over to Beverly Hills to a jewelry store that had its own artisan watchmaker.
“Things between you and Mr. Erickson seem to have settled down,” Dax said as he drove.