Page 51 of Storm

She doesn’t want it. Iknowthis, I just have to get my subconscious to recognize it as well. Using the drive, I list out every piece of evidence I have to support the truth I know.

Miriam has never hidden her personality from me. She challenged me from the moment I met her and never backed down, even when I’m sure she realized I had money. She was a generous lover and capitulated to my needs, but she also demanded her wants as well. And, most importantly, she refused the money. She refused it and expressed disdain over how insulted she felt. Her hurt was not faked.

She only told us she was pregnant because it was theright thing to do. If this was a cash grab, she’d have already been demanding money for hospital visits and support, but she’s not. I watched as she handed over her insurance card and paid her copay without hesitation this morning. Never once did she look at any of us to see if we’d open our wallets. Tatum and I both offered when she came back, but we received a glare in response.

Lastly, there’s been no mention from her about one of us taking care of her and the baby after she gives birth. It’s clear she has every intention of doing this on her own, especially considering she’s shot down every offer of help. It may be her pride getting the best of her and we’ll most definitely have a conversation about this down the road, but someone looking to scam us wouldn’t let pride get in their way.

The next question is, how the hell is this going to work? I know it’s too early to start worrying about things, but it’s what I do. I plan and plot. When I see the roadblocks down the road miles away, I figure out a new route before it comes into view.

My phone begins to ring through my car, announcing Tatum Cadelle’s incoming call. I press a button to silence it, not ready to speak to any of them. I just need some time to sort everything in my head. Tatum lives in the moment, the excitement and adrenaline. Not me. I need structure to help me process.

First roadblock I foresee as being an issue is the distance. Miriam lives a few hours away from the rest of us. Needing to be there, especially if something unplanned arises, will be tricky. So that’s the first thing I need to solve.

And… I can’t.

She has her career, school, and her apartment. I have my condo, my practice, and my family here. Briefly, I consider asking her to move, then laugh at myself because I can immediately picture how that conversation is going to go.

The other guys, I’m sure, haven’t even considered logistics yet, but I think they’ll all agree that Tatum and Ezra’s place isn’t fit to add a new mother and baby. Not that it’s unkempt, it’s just small. Enough for two men to coexist with unreliable schedules.

Kevin’s house would actually be the perfect place. He has a large home on the outskirts of town with multiple bedrooms. The home was his parents’ before they passed, and it’s massive.My condo would work as well. It’s a three bedroom, but I have my office which could be converted to an additional room.

By the time I pull into the driveway of my parents’ home, I realize I’ve planned out living arrangements, completely bypassing the knowledge that Miriam is going to absolutely say no.

My mother, Amelia Leigh, is already standing on the front stoop, the door open wide and leaning against the rail. She lifts a hand when she sees me looking, so I don’t waste any time gathering courage.

Walking up to her, I kiss both of her cheeks after she sets her hands on my arms. “Hi. Did you let him know I was coming?”

“I did. Harold cancelled his conference call since you said it was urgent. Would you like some tea or prefer something harder?”

Huffing out a laugh, I hold up my hand to guide her inside first. “Definitely something harder today. If you don’t mind, I’ll probably sleep here for the night as well. I suspect this will take a while.”

She studies me curiously, then without looking away, turns her head slightly. “Harold!Our son is here!” Moving more cautiously, she heads to the liquor cabinet. “I think I’ll pour from the top shelf and join you both. Is it terribly bad, Richard?”

“Not in the way you’re probably thinking. But impactful, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t, but we’ll sort it.Harold!” she yells again, higher pitched than before, bordering on an almost screech.

She sets three heavy tumblers on the granite countertop, the clink reverberating heavily in the kitchen. “On the rocks or straight up?”

“Straight, please.” Nodding once, she pours more than a couple of fingers, then leaves the cork out. Apparently, we’re going to be refilling.

Pushing my glass to me, she picks up hers, and just before she takes a sip, she screeches, “HAR?—”

“Christ, woman, I heard you the first time.” My father strides into the kitchen, eyes the good bottle sitting in solitude between my mother and me, then turns to face me head on. With a straight face, he asks, “Is it criminal? I have a few friends who would be willing to drop everything for us, but I need to know how much time we have. How much trouble are you in?”

I’m not sure why, but his response to the worst-case scenario alleviates every ounce of anxiety I was feeling, and I burst out laughing. Dropping my head in my hands as soon as my ass hits the stool, I lose complete control of my senses. The fact this man immediately thought I needed a defense attorney is just the perfect way to end my day.

“Harold, take your drink and make the call,” my mother hisses.

I hold my hand up, choking out, “Stop. Please. Shit, I don’t need an attorney. At least not that kind. I’m not in trouble.”

My father sits down and takes the glass from my mother, who sits next to him. He eyes me with trepidation. “Then what the hell is so urgent?Areyou in trouble of a different sort?”

“Yes and no. Please, let me explain everything before you start asking questions, but I also am going to divulge some private parts of my life I’ve never told you about. Would you both understand that while you may not approve, it’s something I enjoy and have taken every action to protect myself and practice properly?”

“Of course, Richard,” my mother rushes to say. I look at my father, who gets an elbow before he’s agreeing as well.

Taking a deep breath, I lay it all out. “You know I have a good friendship with Kevin Cooper?—”

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