Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Nadia Lee Page 0,43
with Aaron and confronting Hugo, plus dinner—so I’m the first to get up to leave. I really need to exit stage left before my parents stop me to discuss the fertilized egg in my womb. I wasn’t planning on talking about it, and I’m still not ready.
“Jo, can we speak to you for a moment?” Papa says.
My heart sinks. He isn’t smiling, and neither is Mama. Technically they can’t ground me or take away my allowance. But I still hate the idea of disappointing them. And an unwed pregnancy? Definitely on the list of things that will disappoint my parents.
One by one, my brothers hug and kiss me, then step out of the private room with a sympathetic look in my way. My cousins do the same, along with my uncle and aunt.
Edgar, on the other hand, lingers, then moves to the empty seat next to mine. I hope he doesn’t think he’s going to convince my parents into giving their blessings. The right order in their world is marriage, then baby, not vice versa.
“You can go, too,” Papa says with raised eyebrows. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Sir, if you are going to be upset with Jo, I’d rather stay. It isn’t her fault she’s in the condition she’s in.”
Edgar reaches over and threads his fingers with mine on the table. The gesture is a surprise for a fraction of a second, then the nerves in my gut settle. I can’t think of the last time a boyfriend defied my papa, much less flaunted our relationship. Papa isn’t a particularly tall, but he has a way of staring down at you, a skill he’s honed over decades of teaching high school. And it has the power to make you feel about a quarter of an inch tall…if you’re lucky.
Papa is directing that look right now at Edgar. And Edgar meets it square, unblinking and more serious than the latest Givenchy collection.
“Jo, it’s best we talk privately,” Mama says softly.
Translation: They really don’t want Edgar here, and having him as a non-family observer is only going to make what’s to come more awkward.
I squeeze Edgar’s hand to let him know I got this. “They’re right. I’m okay. Really.”
“But—”
“I’m sure you have important things to do. You have a company to run.” He’s been away for at least a couple of days. I’m sure the board wants him back. Or at least wants him to check his email. Everyone needs instant responses to email. And he hasn’t checked his since he entered our private room. His company could be bleeding money as we speak.
Edgar frowns. “The company is important. This is more so.”
My heart does a little backflip. He’s acting like he didn’t mean it when he announced to my family he doesn’t love me. And it’s pushing all my gooey “aww” buttons, even though I know I’m being silly. He’s just being himself—dependable, responsible and controlled. Didn’t I think those solid qualities when were underneath his sexy self when we first met? He’s just proving I wasn’t wrong.
“Please…?” I say sweetly. Edgar is a good man and doesn’t deserve to be chewed out by my parents. It isn’t his fault that we’ve created a surprise baby and Hugo contacted him before I could put a stop to it.
After a moment, Edgar nods and leaves, placing a kiss on the crown of my head. It feels oddly intimate, like something he might give a woman he cares about. Or I might be giving it more significance because we slept together.
Once the door swings closed behind him, the room feels emptier. Inhaling deeply, I turn and face my parents.
“Jo. What happened?” Papa asks quietly.
I want to squirm under his gaze. This is not how I envisioned gifting him with the grandchild I know he wants. Although this is the twenty-first century, and women are raising children on their own, my family is more traditional. We are to be married before declaring ourselves pregnant.
I rub my lacquered thumbnails. “It’s complicated.” My shoulders pull together, and I wish I could shrink down so small nobody could see me. “I’m sorry, Papa.”
“Whatever for?” He sounds surprised.
I can’t decide if he’s being sarcastic or not. He sometimes wields it like a knife when he’s dealing with unruly high school kids. “I’ve disappointed you,” I say, hating the words and embarrassed beyond description. “Both of you.”
“Oh, baby. Jo, I’m not disappointed. I know you’re always trying to do the right thing.”