Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
FERN
“ S o, you made us work for nothing?” Aslan glares at Gatsby as Maia shows everyone her engagement ring—a two carat sapphire with diamonds around an infinity setting.
It’s beautiful. Elliot helped him design it. He’s a man with so many talents.And maybe Keaton is right, I still have a crush on him. Not that I’ll admit it. Instead of a private engagement, we end up having an engagement party.
“I couldn’t wait,” Gatsby says, grinning from ear to ear. “She’s expecting our baby. If I could, I would marry her right now.”
Please don’t do that, I want to beg.
Mom’s not going to take this engagement surprise well. She likes to be involved in my brothers’ lives and they love to push her away. They never think their behavior affects me. She always finds a way to blame me for missing their milestones.
Mom swears I knew about Aslan’s relationship with Keaton since it started.
That’s not what happened, but I try not to contradict her.
I should chide Gatsby and remind him that Mom is going to be pissed for not telling her about the engagement or the baby.
Which we need to keep as a secret until they’re ready to tell everyone.
Is he kidding me? I look at how happy he is and decide to not tell him off or ruin his day. I’ll handle Mom the way I always do.
“Congratulations,” I say, giving him another hug. “I’m thrilled that you’re so happy. You have everything. A baby, the love of your life… who, by the way, is lovely.”
He looks around and when he spots her, his eyes melt into liquid—not literally. “She is, isn’t she?”
I look at him and then at Aslan. “Not that I have a say on who you guys date or marry, but I approve of Keat and Maia. If I can only get Lysander to settle down.”
“Leave him alone,” Aslan warns me.
I lift my arms in surrender. “Fine, but I think?—”
“Don’t be like Mom,” Gatsby interrupts me. “You need to find a hobby. What happened to adopting a child?”
“That was a joke,” Aslan groans. “You can’t just go and adopt children because it seems like a good idea. They’re a lifetime responsibility.”
These two are insufferable. I shouldn’t mention to them that I reached out to my friend, Blaire, who has contacts with several orphanages in the world. Nor that Thea told me to fill out some applications at the safe house for pregnant teenagers she runs when I’m ready.
That’s the beauty of being part of a network. These ladies not only supported me when I started it, but they still help me, even on an emotional level.
Maybe I’ll do it soon, but not until I know that my siblings don’t need me anymore. Someone has to take care of them.
“That’s not happening now. Maybe after we build the community and I know that the foundation and the charity don’t need me as much.”
Aslan gives me a disapproving look. “You should hire more people for the operation, and please don’t adopt a child. Maybe get a dog or a cat. Not a kid.”
I ignore his adopting comment and say, “I manage it myself. That’s why we’re so successful.”
Gatz and Aslan look at me. I can feel that they want to lecture me, but they don’t know where to start. There’re so many wrong things about me, yet I’m the easiest sibling. What’s there to say?
“You need a life,” Gatsby begins, and there it is, the one thing they believe I should fix—my life. But should I?
“I have one and I’m happy with it.”
They found the loves of their lives and they’re planning on marriage, a family, and everything that comes with it. It’s great to know that they’re happy. Their happiness isn’t mine though.
“I’m not saying go out and date the first guy you meet, but maybe…”
I glare at them and point my finger the way Mom used to do while we were growing up and she was about to scold them for destroying something.
“Maybe nothing,” I say, sighing. “Stop before you piss me off.”
This is Gatz’s day, and I don’t want to focus on me. So what if they can’t understand that the guys I meet are either players or they feel threatened by my last name?
My position in the foundation emasculates them. Though I’m successful, I don’t have much money. Only a monthly allowance from my trust. I don’t get paid for what I do. I run a charity, not a multimillion-dollar company.
Also, I don’t like to party. Men find me boring.
“We should leave Fern alone,” I suggest, talking about myself in the third person. Then, I look at Gatsby. “Worry about your child and your bride-to-be. Aslan knows better than to act like our mother with me, right, Brother?”
He exhales loudly, but it’s a promise that he’ll leave me alone, at least for now.