Page 120 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

“—baby shower and you two should?—”

“Mom.”

“—make me a list of all the things you want. Oh my, this baby is going to be?—”

“Mom! I’m not pregnant.”

“—so pretty.” She pauses, lips parted. “What?”

“I’m not pregnant,” I repeat, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear with a trembling hand.

Naturally, Daire notices. He marks the subtle shake and when I lower it, he tucks it beneath his with my other hand. “But Daire has a child, and we’ve recently gotten custody and?—”

“A… a child with someone else?” Her whole face falls like I’ve delivered the worst news imaginable.

Daire steps in, filling her in on the situation. For several minutes, I just breathe, so thankful I don’t have to rehash the whole thing. When he finishes, there are tears in her eyes.

She presses a hand to her heart when she says, “That poor thing. What a wonderful thing you’re doing for him. Taking him in like that.”

“He’s Daire’s son. There was never a question about whether we’d take him.”

“Yes, dear, of course,” she says in a dismissive tone. “You’ll have to call me again when I can see the little one. But I need to go.”

“All right, love you.”

She returns the sentiment and ends the call.

“I think that went well,” Daire says with a smile, his hands finally leaving mine.

I snort, even as my stomach ties itself into a knot. “That’s what you think. She’s pissed.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

Less than thirty seconds later, the text comes through. I turn it around so he can read.

Mother Dearest: His first-born son should’ve been yours, Rosemary.

“She only calls me Rosemary when she’s feeling particularly pissed off.”

“That’s an archaic way of thinking.”

“Yeah, well…” I shrug off my annoyance and turn my phone off completely.

I’m in no mood to receive more texts like that.

“Your mom is a complicated creature.” He passes me the beer from earlier, and this time he doesn’t say anything when I chug it.

With a sigh, I set the empty bottle down and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “You’re telling me.”

I love my mom, I do, but she’s a bit much.

“Are you okay?” he asks, genuine concern creasing his brow.

My responding smile is genuine. It feels good to know that he cares enough about me to ask. “Yeah. I’m used to it.”

“What does she think is going to happen if you’re not the one bearing my first-born son?” He laughs outright at that, grabbing a beer for himself and another for me.

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