Chapter 3 #3
When I look up at Luke, I see my conflicted emotions reflected in his eyes. “Are you okay with having two girls?”
“Okay?” He gapes like I’m crazy. “I’m over the fucking moon, are you kidding?”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” The divot in his brow deepens. “Why would you even ask that?”
“I don’t know. My father really wanted a boy, and my mom—”
“Let me stop you right there.” He leans back on my car, crossing his arms as he fixes his gaze on my face. “I don’t know your mom, and I’ve only met your dad a few times, but I think I feel confident saying they set the bar pretty low for parental behavior.”
I know I should argue, and who does Luke think he is critiquing my parents?
“Want to know a secret?” I ask softly.
“Absolutely.”
“I hoped it would be two girls.” I wait for a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but there’s not one. “I would have been happy with a boy and a girl or even two boys, but having twin daughters?”
“Exactly what you wanted, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Same.”
“Really?” That’s surprising. “You don’t want a boy to carry on your family name?”
Luke quirks one sandy brow. “You’d deign to have our kids be Lovelins and not Spencers?”
“It’s not just up to me, but yeah.” Biting my lip, I meet Luke’s eyes. “Or maybe we hyphenate. Spencer-Lovelin? We’d have to choose simple first names to balance the cumbersome surname, or maybe—”
“Hazel? Luke? What are you doing here?”
Ice floods my veins at my cousin’s bright voice. Spinning around, I paste on a smile to greet Peter and Lucy. “Hey! What a surprise. How are you doing?”
“Good.” My cousin wraps me in one of her signature hugs. “I’ve been meaning to call you. At the town council meeting last night, they talked about choosing a new sister city.”
“Instead of Brostini?” My mother would have a conniption fit. “That was my mother’s pet project. She wanted that tie between her birthplace and where she had me.” It’s one of Mom’s only moments of maternal sentimentality. “They can’t just undo that whole Romanian partnership.”
“That’s what I told them. They backed off when Noah got up and made the case for keeping the connection.”
“Noah?” Why would my cousin—who left town after high school and only comes back a few times a year—be attending a town council meeting in Cherry Blossom Lake?
“You know how Noah is.” With a shrug, Lucy fills in the blanks. “He said he didn’t have anything better to do last night.”
“Than attend a town council meeting?” I’d honestly rather chew off my toenails. “I’m surprised he’s still in town. Hasn’t he been here more than a week?”
“Something like that.” My cousin shrugs again. “He’s just being Noah. Some weird, brotherly phantom who ghosts in and out of town when he feels like it. Guess he’s sticking around longer this time, since some overseas contract fell through.”
Even Luke looks bemused. “And Noah cares deeply about Cherry Blossom Lake’s sister city?”
Peter snorts and steps closer to his wife. “That’s what I asked.”
“My idiot brothers love to argue.” Lucy rolls her eyes. “Noah’s done work in Romania. He gets fired up about the most random things. You know how he is.”
“I suppose.” To be honest, I’ve never been close with the black sheep of the Spencer-King clan.
But hey, I’m grateful he did me a favor, even if he didn’t mean to.
“My mother’s been talking about funding some sort of children’s charity in Eastern Europe.
Spencer Holdings would manage the project, but I honestly don’t have a clue where to start. ”
“That’s a lovely idea,” Lucy says. “I can ask Noah if he has any connections.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
With that topic exhausted, Lucy’s gaze shifts to Luke. “Are you two here together?”
Shit. “Um. We, uh—”
“We bumped into each other.” Luke’s polished and cool, such a smooth liar. “We both had appointments in Salem, and we got to talking about a project.”
Lucy looks intrigued. “Building something new?”
“Sandcastles,” I blurt, then regret it. “We’re, uh… discussing some rule changes for the annual Cherry Blossom Lake sandcastle contest.”
“Ah.” Peter nods sagely and takes his wife’s hand. “Probably a nice break from your normal commercial construction projects.”
That would have made more sense, wouldn’t it? I own a damn construction firm.
But now I’m committed to discussing sandcastles. Luke lifts a brow but doesn’t refute my fib.
Lucy, on the other hand, has ten million questions.
“Is Spencer Development sponsoring the contest this year? I heard they’d been looking for someone after DigiCom backed out, so it’s great you guys can step in.
Oh! Are you bringing back the sand fleas division for little kids?
That’s my favorite. Harper won when she was six, but they disqualified her for using non-native seashells on her mermaid.
She also built her castle too large for the plot.
” Rolling her eyes, she keeps talking. “Maybe you could make sure the rules are posted online beforehand so families can prepare? Let me know if you need committee volunteers.”
“Slow down, Luce.” Peter shoots her a look filled with love. “We’re a little keyed up today.” Tipping his head toward the building, he smiles sheepishly. “Getting the ol’ swimmers tested.”
I’m not sure what he means, but Luke responds with a sympathetic head tilt. “Did you bring your own materials like I said?”
Peter chuckles as Lucy turns pink. “Thanks for the tip,” he says. “I’ve got some inspiration on my phone.”
Are we still discussing sandcastles? Pregnancy brain has me struggling to keep up.
“Some of the rules might be changing.” Because yes, Spencer Development is sponsoring the sandcastle contest. “Only manpower allowed—no mechanized assistance permitted. Can’t have too many unfair advantages, you know? ”
“Oh.” Lucy blinks, then looks at her husband. “That would not have occurred to me.”
“It can be quite the problem.” I try to recall some of the sandcastle contest rule changes. “No sticky stuff,” I continue. “Dampening or spraying with water is allowed, but you can’t squirt anything else.”
Luke stifles a sound that might be a laugh. “I think we might be talking about two different things, Haze.”
And I think I don’t love being corrected.
“You’ll want to take note of the size limits,” I insist, a little annoyed Luke’s not playing along with the sandcastle story.
“It gets very unwieldy when some people have these massive erections and the other entries are more modest. Doesn’t seem fair, right? ”
“Uh, yeah.” Peter nods gamely. “Size matters.”
Lucy turns scarlet, which is odd. She normally doesn’t embarrass easily, but I guess there’s some shame over Harper’s disqualification.
“There’s room for discussion on tools,” I continue, not wanting to seem like a hardass.
“Tools?” Lucy blinks.
“You’re allowed to use hoes, shovels, spatulas, your own hands, or even—”
“Hazel.” Luke squeezes my arm and tips his chin back toward the clinic. “I don’t think we’re all discussing sandcastles.”
“What?” I follow his gaze to the sign over Peter’s left shoulder.
Urology.
And beneath that, a bright list of services.
Fertility testing and treatment.
“Oh. Oh, shit.” Swinging my gaze back to Lucy and Peter, I’m relieved to see they’re both laughing. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh my God, that was great.” Lucy’s still laughing as she lays a hand on my arm. “And don’t worry. We’re not keeping it secret or anything. The fact that we’re struggling to conceive?”
I must look confused because Peter continues. “Gotta rule out problems on my end, since Lucy’s been through this before.”
She nods at Luke, who somehow succeeds in keeping a straight face. “Luke joined us for the last family dinner. We all got to talking about it then, so I kinda assumed everyone knew.”
“I didn’t.” Add one more layer to my embarrassment. I should know these things about my cousin. Maybe not details like her husband’s appointment to ejaculate into a test tube, but I could have done something to support her fertility journey. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Lucy’s still snickering. “We kinda needed the laugh today. Don’t worry about it.”
But I do. Will Lucy and Peter feel bad when I turn up pregnant by accident? Luke’s fingers graze mine, though I don’t think he’s trying to hold my hand. He’s letting me know that he’s here, that we’re in this together. I shoot him a quick look of gratitude as my phone starts to buzz.
“Sorry, I should get this.” I slide a hand into my purse. “I’m negotiating a deal for—oh.”
Dammit.
It’s not work related at all.
Oregon State Penitentiary.
What does my dad want now?
Declining the call, I barely hear Peter’s next question.
“What brings you here anyway?” he asks as I type out a message to Dad through the prison’s electronic message center. “Making a donation?”
I confirm with a mumble, my eyes on the screen. “Mmhm.”
“Yes,” Luke says at the same time, and I snap my gaze up from my phone.
“That’s right,” I say, scrambling. “We both came to make a donation.”
Peter looks curious as he studies me. “Don’t you usually do your kind online?”
My kind of donation? “I like to meet with the foundation representative in person with larger corporate donations.”
“That’s lovely,” says Lucy with a smile. “I love how you’ve transformed your dad’s firm into such a charitable entity.”
“Thanks.” I glance at Peter, who’s trading a weird look with Luke. “What?”
“Just funny,” says Peter. “Both of you here making such different donations.” Whatever expression I’m making causes Peter to blanch. “Oh, shit.” He swivels his gaze back to Luke. “I’m sorry. You were so open about it when it came up at dinner. I thought—”
“It’s okay.” Luke gives me a lopsided grin. “I don’t normally discuss sperm donation with the owner of the company I work for, but it’s cool. Hazel’s good with it, aren’t you?”
My tongue goes dry, and I realize my mouth’s hanging open. Snapping it shut, I paste on a smile. “Yes. Absolutely. Anything I can do to support employees who donate to help struggling families.” Did that come out wrong? “I don’t mean ‘support’ like I showed up to help Luke jerk off.”
Oh my God.
I did not just say that.
Even Lucy looks stunned. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other that well.”
“We don’t!” We both blurt it so quickly there’s not any question we’re lying.
And one thing I hate more than anything is lies. I hate lies of omission, lies of betrayal, even little white lies. As I stare at my cousin, I hate my own guts for lying to family. What kind of person am I?
One who’s about to be sick.
“Excuse me,” I say, clamping a hand to my mouth. “I need to—”
That’s all I get out before losing my lunch on Luke’s shoes.