Page 186 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

She’d always been a clever girl, and now she was ready to put her intelligence to the test.

“Sophia?” James’s voice startled her. She dropped the ornament, and it went tumbling, branch to branch until it shattered on the floor.

“Oh! Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“You just surprised me. That’s all.”

“I think we need to talk,” he said, and she started to panic all over again. He’d expect her to know what the fight with Sophia had been about. And she didn’t. She’d have to follow his lead.

“Now?” she asked, stooping down to pick up the broken ornament. The wings had shattered, breaking off into tiny sharp shards of porcelain.

“Leave it for now.” He glanced around the shop. It was nearly quitting time, and the store was empty. “I think we can shut this down. If someone really wants something, one of the waitresses in the café can come over.” He offered her the slightest grin. “I’ll put a good word in with the boss.”

“Okay.” Julia was nervous, but she decided to follow his lead; if she let him talk, just urging him to speak his mind, she might figure out why there had been a rift, why Sophia was “giving him some space.”

“How ’bout in here?”

The café too was almost empty, the OPEN sign no longer lit, all of the tables with their red-and-white cloths cleaned, the salt and pepper shakers arranged around a glass-encased candle and small poinsettia, even the ever-present Christmas music no longer playing. A grandmother and child were finishing up cocoa and cookies at the only occupied table. As she attempted to get him into his jacket, he struggled against her, declaring firmly, “I do it!” But they were soon out the door, the lone waitress swooping in to pick up the tab and clear the table.

The kitchen was closing, the last busboy sweeping up.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” James said after pulling out a chair for her at a table in one corner.

“Me too,” she said, but had no idea what he was talking about.

“I overreacted,” he said, and he was so damned sober as he sat across from her. Whatever had happened between Sophia and him was serious. Julia was starting to get a very bad feeling about what was coming.

The waitress started toward them, but he held up a hand, and she stopped in her tracks.

“Well, that happens,” Ju

lia said, trying to imagine what he was talking about.

“No, it wasn’t good. It’s just that you surprised me, coming into my room when I wasn’t expecting it and then hitting me with that bombshell.”

What bombshell? “I know,” she said, but she didn’t, and her heart was beginning to beat in dread. What the hell was he talking about?

His eyes found hers. “The truth is . . . ,” he said, and she felt her pulse pound in her temples. “It’s just that I’ve never even thought about being a father before. We never talked about it, and . . . it’s just not been in my wheelhouse.”

Wait! What? He was going to be a father? That’s why he was upset with Sophia? Oh, holy Mother of God! Sophia was pregnant? No! This couldn’t be happening. No, no, no! Julia felt the blood drain from her face. She forced her expression to remain frozen, to stop the shock from registering on her face.

“I’ve been an ass,” he was saying, sadness touching the corners of his eyes. “I should never have said you couldn’t work here, and—” He shoved a hand through his short hair. For a heart-stopping second, she thought he was going to propose to her, to do the right thing, to claim the baby that Sophia had told him she was carrying. Her throat went dry, and she felt the room spin, the floor beneath their table begin to buckle. “Hey—are you all right?” he asked suddenly, and she thought fast.

“My stomach,” she said. “It’s . . . nothing. I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. Not by a long shot. If Sophia was really pregnant . . . Oh, dear God . . . Did Sophia even know that Julia could never get pregnant, had been told by two doctors that the chances of her ever conceiving were pretty much zero?

For a second, she almost gave it all away, afraid she couldn’t pull the masquerade off a second longer.

Buck up, Julia. Don’t give up! Do not! You’ve worked too hard for this. You can handle it. You have to!

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Concern etched his face, deepening the crow’s-feet near the corners of his eyes.

No! This is a disaster! “Yeah . . . yeah,” she managed to get out. “Just a little queasy.” She came up with a quick excuse and mentally crossed her fingers that he would buy it. “Morning sickness isn’t always in the morning, you know.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted.

“It sometimes hits at the oddest times.” That sounded good, didn’t it?

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