Rose and Connor are having some sort of staring contest.
“Stop reading each other’s minds,” Lo says. “It’s creepy.”
I lick the side of my hand. “It is Halloween.”
Ryke passes me the salt shaker, and I cross my legs underneath my butt, sitting up a little higher at the table. I put some salt on the wet part of my skin.
“Lil,” Lo says, about to drag the tray of shots towards her.
She shakes her head. “I don’t feel like drinking.”
He frowns. “Are you sure?” His voice is softer with her. “Would you rather have a beer?”
“No, I think I’ll stick with water.”
She’s not much of a drinker, so I’m not surprised she’s rejected the offer. During family events, she’ll go for the non-alcoholic options while Rose will drink mimosas, white wine, and dirty martinis.
Connor breaks his gaze off his wife’s and collects two shots for them. Then he says something in French that I can’t understand.
I wish Ryke could translate for me, but we’re too close to everyone else. It’d be obvious that he understands the language. He acts like he’s not eavesdropping, eating a chicken taco at the same time as Lo. No wonder he’s been able to hide his fluency in French.
I can barely tell he’s listening at all.
51
RYKE MEADOWS
I put more salsa in my taco while Rose glares at Connor, and he stares back in challenge. They’re usually strange, but they’re being really, really f**king strange right now.
He says, “Buvez avec moi.” Drink with me.
Her nose flares as her eyes drop to the tequila. She snatches the shot glass, not backing down, and she raises it towards her mouth.
I bite my taco, and when I glance at them, I notice that Connor’s jaw has tightened, his gaze darkened. I feel like they’re playing a risky game of chicken. Like when I was at the bar with Lo, back in Paris. I sense the similarities in that and this, but my mind barely has time to add these facts together.
Rose puts the rim of the shot to her lips. Connor grabs her wrist and forces her hand down, the shot splashing as the glass meets the table.
Lo’s brows furrow, holding his chicken taco. “What the f**k?”
Daisy freezes, a lime in her hand.
Connor stares harshly at Rose. “Vous êtes allée assez loin.” You’ve taken this far enough.
Her eyes pierce him.
Connor shakes his head. “Dites-le tout simplement.” Just say it.
She inhales sharply. “Ne faites pas ça.” Don’t.
Connor edges closer to her, and she surprisingly doesn’t pull away. He cups her face, his thumb stroking her cheek as he says, “Vous n’avez rien à craindre.” You have nothing to fear.
She tries to glance at us, but he forces her head straight at him, making her come face-to-face with whatever she’s been hiding.
Rose has trouble surrendering and letting him win this long, drawn out game. Her eyes glance down at the spilt tequila, and he puts his hand over the top, telling her no. I finish my taco and grab my water, taking a large swig.
Connor pinches her chin between his fingers, and he says, “Vous êtes enceinte.” You’re pregnant.
I spit out my water.
Just like that. One word. Enceinte. And my cover is blown.
Fucking f**k.
They both turn their heads to look at me. For f**k’s sake—my brother gapes like I’ve grown horns, and Lily might as well be catching flies with her mouth.
Connor’s eyes continue to darken, his expression so rare that my neck starts to heat uncomfortably.
“Why are you f**king looking at me like that?” I ask defensively, backtracking. My efforts are useless. It’s Connor Cobalt. If my brother figured out that I understood their conversation, then he definitely has.
“Vous savez pourquoi.” You know why. He keeps shaking his head like he can’t believe this. Maybe he’s upset that he got something wrong. That he misread me. That I’ve been f**king overhearing his dialogs for years. All of the above, once again.
My muscles harden, and Daisy puts her hand on my leg underneath the table in comfort. I lace her fingers with mine and then nod at Connor. “You should be less focused on me and more f**king concerned about your pregnant wife, who almost drank a tequila shot to f**king one-up you.”
“What?” Lo says. He leans back like a hurricane just knocked into him.
Rose glowers at me. “Go choke on your water again.” That is an insult usually reserved for Lo.
I flip her off and she does the same thing in return, which is an awful f**king rebuttal to the middle finger. It’s not like I’m asking her if she knows how to do it too.
I’d love to remove myself from this whole awkward situation, but we’re stuck at the same table together, forced to deal with serious issues that we’ve kept from each other.
Lo has his hands on his head, his eyes darting between me and Rose. “You both take birthday surprises to a new f**ked up dimension.”
Rose blinks back tears. No wonder she’s been emotional this whole trip. I’ve rarely ever seen her cry, and she’s shed probably more tears in the past two weeks than she has in the past five years.
“Christ,” Lo says, realizing this too. He cringes, looking a little guilty. She’s been hormonal, obviously going through something, and he’s picked on her a lot. I mean, she didn’t even f**king tell Connor. She made him figure it out.
But their relationship—that’s just how they do things, I guess. I wouldn’t know unless I was in their heads. I’d rather a girl scream at the top of her lungs and throw things at me, telling me she’s pregnant than spend months solving a mystery.
Connor rotates a fraction to look back at Rose. “You’re five weeks along.” He just states it, not as a question.
She holds her breath. “No.”
He frowns. “Seven?”
She shakes her head once.
He looks f**king pissed. He rubs his lips to hide the emotion, but I see the hurt and anger pulsing in his eyes. “Eight weeks?”
She glares. “Ne me regardez pas comme ça.” Don’t look at me like that.
They glance at me with agitation, realizing I understand them now.
Rose sighs heavily, reaching for her water.
“What’d they say?” Lily asks.
“I’m not getting into it,” I tell her.
Rose says, “You’re mad, Richard, that you were off on your numbers. I’m sorry you weren’t right—”
“No, darling,” Connor tells her with conviction. “I’m upset because it took you this long to talk about it. I thought you would have conceded a month in.”
“How long have you known?” she asks quietly.
“When you had a flat tire, I was almost positive. Your GPS was set to the gynecologist, and you purposefully had a fight with me the next day so I’d sleep on the couch. I figured the doctors confirmed what you already knew, and you were too stubborn and afraid to tell me.”
Lo frowns and looks at Lily. “You knew?” She had been in the car with Rose.
She nods, her shoulders turned into her body. “Moral support.”
Connor glances at Lily cautiously before setting his gaze back on his wife.
Rose sits stiffly, and her chin trembles. “This wasn’t the plan. I’m not thirty-five yet.”
The waitress returns, cutting into possibly the most bizarre way a pregnancy can be announced. At a Mexican restaurant. With a tequila shot standoff. In French.