Page 123 of Wistful Whispers

“We’re having a baby.” Simple. Clear.

For a second, no one moved.

Then Maureen cried. Not a polite dab at the eyes either—criedcried. Hand to her heart, reaching for Ronni like she needed to physically anchor herself. Connor made an awkward joke about shotgun weddings until Ronni elbowed him so hard he nearly spilled his drink. Cillian’s face lit up. Brennan and Astrid gazed at each other lovingly. Liam and Padraig exchanged a long, unreadable look I still haven’t deciphered. Rory raised his glass and said, “Good. The world needs more of you.”

“We didn't plan this. I had to stop birth control to prep for egg freezing,” I explained. “Dr. Madison told me the older I get, the lower my odds. So I went off the pill, planning to start the cycle.”

Cillian deadpanned. “Well, if a few minutes ago is any indication of how often you guys are together…”

“You're one to talk.” Brennan slugged him in the arm.

Ronni choked on her wine. Maureen fanned herself like she was about to faint.

“We’re grateful,” I said quickly. “Really grateful. We’ve got a healthy baby on the way.”

Through all of it, Seamus never let go of my hand.

Now we’re heading to my family’s restaurant, and my nerves are pulsing with a vengeance. It’s not the same kind of nerves—not performance anxiety or dread. More like I’m walking into a room I’ve been in a hundred times before, only this time I’m carrying something no one else can see yet.

To my family, maybe it looks like I’ve gained ten pounds. My body’s changing. My life is changing. I don’t know what they’ll say when I tell them it’s not a phase or a craving or the holidays.

Seamus and I are having a baby. It’s real.

“You okay?” Seamus asks as we exit the freeway, heading toward the waterfront.

I fib, “I’m fine.”

He smirks. “Which means you’ve been replaying every past Christmas dinner in your head and bracing for a fresh round of sibling interrogation—only this time, it’s your sister’s turn to grill us instead of my brothers.”

“I have not,” I say. Then sigh. “Okay, maybe a little. Mostly reliving their faces when we came back downstairs.”

We smile at each other.

He covers my hand with his. “Want to run one of your arguments by me?”

“Do you think they'll be weird about this?” I panic a little.

He laughs and pulls my hand to his thigh. “We don’t have to tell them tonight, you know. We could…eat, smile, and lie.”

I give him a look.

“Right,” he says. “You don’t lie.”

“Not well.” I scrunch my nose.

He raises a brow. “Or, not at all.”

“It's time.” I turn my hand over and let his fingers lace through mine. “If I don’t say something tonight, my mom’s going to say it for me. She kept staring at my boobs last Friday at dinner.”

“Hard not to,” Seamus says under his breath.

My mouth drops open dramatically. “Seamus.”

“I’m just saying. There’s a very obvious growth curve.” He licks his lips.

I swat him gently with our laced hands. “Do not say ‘growth curve’ while discussing my pregnancy symptoms. You’re a scientist, not a frat boy.”

“You say it like the two are mutually exclusive,” he says as we pull up in front of the restaurant. He leans across the console, presses a kiss to my temple. “Let’s go, Mama.”

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