“It was a royal plural. Like ‘we.’”
He snorts. “Fine. How is she distracted?”
“She can’t seem to focus. And she’s not eating or sleeping well.”
“BPS still an issue?” He doesn’t laugh, but I can tell he wants to.
“Fuck you. My dick’s been working overtime since I got here. It gets an A-plus.” My dick’s certainly been cooperating, never letting Becca down.
“Mmm. I dunno, maybe she’s worried about something.”
“Yeah, but everything’s really been…kinda great.” Besides, Becca doesn’t know her grandma’s trying to sell her parents’ house behind her back, since I bought it before Margaret’s realtor could hang a “For Sale” sign outside. Otherwise, she would’ve told me, considering that this marriage is all about that hou—
“A surprise baby!” Emily’s bubbly voice erupts from the phone.
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, Emily!”
“Oh yeah, you’re on speaker,” Killian says.
“Thanks for the timely warning, buddy,” I say.
But Emily’s discreet, so it doesn’t matter if she hears our conversation. Besides, she’s a woman. She might have some ideas…other than the baby.
“Sorry, but there’s no baby, surprise or otherwise,” I say.
“How can you be so sure?” she asks.
“Trust me. I use condoms all the time, and I know how to use them correctly.”
“You never know. Babies are conceived all the time anyway. Condoms aren’t foolproof. And even if she’s on the pill, it still might not be enough.” Emily sounds like an encyclopedia of birth-control failure, which is unhelpful at the moment. “The only way you can be sure you didn’t create a baby is if you didn’t have sex, but I can’t really imagine…”
I snort. “Don’t be silly.” It would be a crime against humanity not to adore Becca’s gorgeous body. Provided I’m the only one who gets to love it. “And condoms work fine. Believe me, I would have been hit with a bunch of paternity suits by this point if they didn’t. How about some other ideas?”
Emily makes a thinking noise. “Maybe your armpits smell bad and she doesn’t know how to tell you?”
“Don’t you have a deadline?” I say, exasperated. “Killian, why is she part of this call?”
“Because I’d rather participate than write right now. Your problem is like romance research. I’ll probably put it in my book.”
“Oh my fucking God!” Okay, totally not discreet. “No!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll change the names and details, so people will never find out it’s really the story of you and your wife.”
If that’s meant to be reassuring, she’s failing. “No, no, no! I’m going to sue if you do that!”
“How? You don’t even read,” Killian says.
“Whose side are you on?” I demand.
“My wife’s, since she’s right here. But look, why not just ask your girl?”
“I did, but she won’t say.”
“Get her drunk and ask,” Emily says. “That always works great for sharing.”
Hmm. “That…might actually work. Okay, thanks.”
“Tell us everything afterwards,” she says.