Twenty-Eight
Wes
We usher a very embarrassed Emma out of the house, promising to fill her in on everything later. Then Devon turns back toward the kitchen, with me following on his heels.
“So, you love me, hey?” I call after him, practically skipping.
Devon cants his head around, arching an eyebrow at me. “Technically, I didn’t actually name you. You simply made the assumption.”
I catch up with him in the kitchen, crowding him back against the pantry door. “Come on, admit it. You loovvee me.”
“Right now, I’m struggling to see why,” he says dryly.
The corner of my mouth quirks up, my hands coming to rest at his waist. “It’s because I’m incredible, and amazing, and you just can’t get enough of me.”
“You forgot modest,” he says with an eye roll. He lets out a sigh of resignation. “Alright, fine. Yes, for some reason that I’m finding absolutely impossible to fathom, I’ve managed to fall in love with you.”
I smile. “Ditto.”
Devon screws his face up. “Hell no. You’re not getting out of this by ripping off Ghost. Say it back properly!”
I groan. “Do I really have to?”
“Yes, you really have to,” he says, eyes narrowed.
“Okay, okay.” I draw in a deep breath, steadying myself. “I sort of…maybe…”
“Sort of…maybe?” Devon echoes, clearly unimpressed.
“Okay, fine! I love you,” I blurt out. “There we go—don’t expect me to ever say it again.”
“Wow, that was so romantic,” he deadpans. “But don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I got it the first time.” He holds up his phone and presses play on a recording app. I feel mortification rushing through me as my words are played back.
I glare at him. “I hate you.”
He just chuckles, his lips formed into a teasing smirk. “No, you don’t. Got the proof right here.”
I make a grab for the phone but he’s too quick, ducking under my arm and tossing the phone on the island bench before pushing me backward so that now I’m the one pinned against the pantry.
“You are the most horrible person in the world,” I growl.
He just smiles. “And yet you love me anyway.”
I let out a soft chuckle and press my lips to his. Yeah, I do love him; but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever admit that out loud again—sneaky bastard.
The next morning, we meet Emma for brunch at the patisserie near Devon’s place.
“I’ve been eating French pastries for months,” she says wryly as we take our seats. “Some good old English food would have been fine.”
“First of all—there’s no need to rub it in,” I say with narrowed eyes. “Secondly, you can’t eat half the stuff at other places now that you’re preggers. And thirdly—”
“He wants a pain au chocolat,” Devon finishes for me.
“Three. I want three of them,” I correct. “At least. Have you seen them? They’re bloody tiny.”
“When you end up in a diabetic coma, which one of us gets to decide when to pull the plug?” Devon asks, gesturing between himself and Emma.
My brows shoot up at that. “Wow. You say that with such relish. I don’t know whether to be turned on or freaked out.”
“I think I’m going to go order,” Emma says a little awkwardly, getting to her feet.
Devon lets out a breath of wry laughter. “I’ll join you.”
I mind the table as they go up to the counter to place our orders.
I use the opportunity to check my phone, not entirely surprised when I see four new ones from Natasha.
Between Emma’s revelation at lunch yesterday, Devon’s declaration, and the incredibly fun afternoon and evening of celebration we had afterwards, I haven’t really had much of an opportunity to check my texts.
Natasha Wilcox: So how’d go with Emma?
Natasha Wilcox: Did you tell her?
Natasha Wilcox: Helllooooooo???
Natasha Wilcox: Get your cock out of Devon’s bum and answer me!
Me: Jeez someone’s a bit needy this morning!
Natasha Wilcox: Finally! Tell me how yesterday went
Me: Well, apart from the bit where Emma tried to convince Devon to be her fake baby daddy, I’d say it went smashingly
Natasha Wilcox: WHAT??
Me: Oh right. Emma’s preggers. And before you ask - Devon’s NOT the father
Natasha Wilcox: Wow. Good thing, because that would have been suupppeerrr awkward
Natasha Wilcox: So how’d she take the news that you’re boning down with her ex?
Me: Surprisingly well. Although that could have just been the shock. We’re having brunch with her now so I’ll have more details later
Natasha Wilcox: I’m on the edge of my seat! Oh and tell her I said congratulations about the baby
I put my phone away when Emma and Devon return to the table. “Tash said to say congratulations,” I tell my sister.
An aghast expression crosses her face. “ Wes! You’re telling people?”
“It’s just Natasha, she’s not going to say anything.”
She gives an exasperated shake of her head and slumps into her seat.
Our pastries arrive and I immediately start tearing into the flaky, chocolatey goodness in front of me. When Devon reaches over to steal a piece of my pain au chocolat, I grab his wrist in a firm grip.
“Keep going and you could lose this hand,” I growl.
He just smirks at me. “You’d never follow through on that. You’d miss this hand too much.”
I glare at him for a long moment before finally releasing my grip of his wrist. Know-it-all bastard can read me like a book.
He chuckles and tears off a piece of my pastry, stuffing it into his mouth.
“I don’t want specific details, obviously,” Emma says, her face screwed up in distaste. “But I would at least like to know how exactly this all happened.” She uses her knife to gesture between Devon and me before resuming her task of slathering butter over her croissant.
“It’s kind of a long story. I guess we both just realised we were attracted to each other and decided to just…go for it,” I say with a shrug.
Devon arches an eyebrow at me but doesn’t correct my version of events. Emma doesn’t need to know the full story, especially not the part about Devon freaking out after their split and breaking into her emails.
“Huh.” Emma chews thoughtfully on a piece of croissant for a moment, before finally nodding. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I mean, I can’t really say I’m all that surprised.”
Both Devon and I stare at her, completely stunned.
“You’re…not?” Devon ventures.
Emma shakes her head. “Oh, don’t get me wrong—I’m shocked as hell that you guys are in love with each other,” she clarifies.
“Definitely didn’t see that coming. But I always guessed that the two of you found each other attractive—even though you would never have admitted it in a million years—so you two deciding to hook up isn’t that much of a stretch for me. ”
“You guessed that?” Devon asks, looking absolutely flabbergasted. “We never even knew the other was into guys.”
Emma blinks at us, clearly surprised. “Seriously? I thought you guys could tell that sort of thing.”
I let out a rough chuckle. “Apparently I have the worst gaydar in the world.”
“Wow, okay. So how did you work it out then?”
I offer a wry smile. “Like I said. Long story.”
She looks like she’s about to press the matter but decides against it. “So…does everyone know?” she asks, biting her lip as though nervous about the answer.
Devon shakes his head. “No. Very few people, actually. Ryan knows, and Natasha. And my family know but that was kind of an accident…”
“I haven’t told Mum and Dad yet. I was thinking maybe we could sit them down and share both of our big news items together?” I suggest. “It might take some of the pressure off the baby news.”
Emma offers a grateful smile. “That’d be great. When did you want to tell them?”
“We’ve got dinner at their place tonight. May as well get it over with.”
Devon gives my thigh a squeeze in reassurance. “You want me to come with you?”
I offer a soft smile. “Ordinarily, yes. But Mum still thinks you and Emma are going to work things out and live happily ever after so until she’s absolved of that notion, I think you should probably stay away.”
Devon nods. “Good call.”
I turn back to my sister, who’s now chewing on the ends of her hair, the way she does when she’s nervous. “You don’t have to say anything, but they’re going to want to know.” I glance meaningfully at the part of the table that’s hiding her stomach.
She sighs. “I don’t even know his name, Wes. It was just some guy. The night of my going away party.”
“Okay, you ready to do this?” I murmur to Emma once Mum and Dad have finished fussing over her and are onto their second glass of wine each. Mum keeps offering Emma some, and I know if she doesn’t come clean soon suspicions will be raised.
Emma nods. “Yep. Now or never, right?”
I give her shoulder a squeeze of encouragement and turn to our parents, who are engrossed in what appears to be a lively discussion about Louis Theroux.
“Mum, Dad—do you have a second?” I ask. “Emma and I need to tell you something.”
They glance up at us, seeming a little startled. “Both of you?” Mum asks curiously.
I nod, a little baffled by the question. I wonder if she’s heard about Devon and me along the grapevine. “Yeah, both of us.”
“You might want to sit down,” Emma suggests, guiding both our parents over to the settee.
Mum and Dad exchange glances before seating themselves and gazing up at us with attentive expressions.
I glance at my sister. “You first or me?”
She draws in a deep breath. “I’ll go.” Under her breath I can hear her saying, “Just rip it off. Just like a plaster.”
“Darling, are you trying to tell us you’re pregnant?” Mum finally asks, interrupting Emma’s pep-talk.
Emma and I both stare at Mum, who looks completely unfazed. “H-how?…W-what?” Emma stutters out.
Mum just offers a wry smile. “Well, at first I thought it might have just been all that French food, but that would only account for you going up a dress size, not two bra sizes. And you haven’t touched a drop of alcohol, or any of the smoked salmon.”
“Okay, wow,” Emma says, looking somehow both relieved and freaked out. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted to tell you—I’m four months pregnant.”
Mum gets to her feet and wraps Emma in a tight hug. “Oh, darling I’m so happy for you.”
“Wonderful news!” Dad says, raising his glass in the air.
I exchange a look with Emma. They’re taking this way better than we expected.
“So, what’s the plan now?” Dad presses. “Are you moving back here? Is Devon moving to Paris?”
“Why would Devon be moving to Paris?” Emma asks, her brow furrowed. But she’s clearly still a little dazed from the unexpected reaction because I know exactly why Dad’s asking that question.
“Well, we just assumed you two would be back together…” Mum says, casting a meaningful look at Emma’s stomach.
“Oh, god. No!” Emma cries, hugging her stomach. “Devon’s not the father.”
Mum’s face falls. “Oh. So, the wedding’s not back on then?”
“ Definitely not!” I growl.
“Oh, honestly, Wes,” Mum says, resuming her seat on the settee with a huff of frustration.
“I don’t know what that boy ever did to deserve such an attitude, but I raised you to be better than that.
Now, even if Emma and Devon aren’t together, the Montgomerys are still friends and I absolutely insist that you be nice to Devon from now on. ”
“Oh, Wes is being nice to Devon,” Emma says with a little snort. “Don’t worry about that. Actually, isn’t it time you shared your news, big brother?”
“Oh, that’s right—Wesley had news too.” Mum offers me a fond smile. “What is it, darling?”
“Well…” I draw in a deep breath and prepare to drop the bomb. “I’m seeing someone. Romantically.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mum exclaims, before turning to my dad. “Isn’t that wonderful, Steven?”
Dad nods, lifting his wine glass in a salute. “It’s wonderful.”
“So, who’s the lucky man?” Mum asks eagerly. “When can we meet him?”
I exchange another look with Emma, who seems incredibly relieved that I’m now the one in the firing line. “Well, as it happens, you’ve already met him. It’s Devon Montgomery.”
Both Mum and Dad just sit there staring at me for a long time, the only things moving are their eyes as they blink almost in sync with each other. It’s actually pretty creepy.
Finally, Mum manages to talk. “Devon…Montgomery?” She stares at me for a long time, before her eyes move to Emma’s stomach, then to my dad, as though he can help clarify the situation.
“Mum, I literally just told you—Devon’s not the baby’s father!” Emma cries. “We haven’t slept together since April. Devon and Wes on the other hand have been at it like bunnies for months…or so I hear.”
“Oh, I didn’t really need to know that Emma,” Mum says, taking a rather large gulp of her wine.
“Apparently you did,” I say dryly.
“God, I would give anything to be able to drink right now,” Emma groans.