Page 27 of The Jackpot Screwer
“Counting to ten,” she ground out, her blue eyes flashing open. “Now, look over to who is standing with Marie.”
I swiveled my head and heaved out a sigh of relief when I saw Evan Wickerson with his arm around Marie.
“Really? When did you two…?” I pointed between their crotches and grinned.
“Well at least five months ago,” Declan said moving closer to me, his features morphed into something a little too menacing for my liking.
I sat back down in my seat and grabbed Bronte’s hand. “No Declan, you can’t hurt me. I’ve done nothing wrong and I’m going to be a father soon.”
My grip on Bronte tightened and she let out a little whimper.
“Sorry, Lollipop.” I lessened my hold and moved my gaze back to Declan who was clutching his wallet like he was wringing out a wet cloth. Hoping to alleviate the tension I smiled at him. “Congratulations, Grandpa.”
Bronte groaned and Declan made a strange noise.
“I’d be glad if you didn’t spread this around,” Declan said through gritted teeth, the Irish brogue of his father’s homeland whispering at the edges of his accent. “Folks will know soon enough, but it’s not something Marie wants spreading around; being an unmarried mother.”
Before the words had even disappeared into the ether, I felt both mine and Bronte’s hackles rise. She, however, was faster from the gate than I was.
“You do realize we’re no longer in ninety-twenty-five, right? There’s nothing wrong with being an unmarried mother, which I have to say is a derogatory term in itself.” She took a quick breath but was on a roll. “Many women choose not to marry the father of their child, or children, but it doesn’t mean they are lesser citizens because of that and frankly Mr. O’Reilly, I’m saddened by your attitude.”
Shit, I loved that girl.
“Yeah, what she said,” I added, pointing to Bronte.
Declan shifted uncomfortably and then without a word, turned back to the receptionist and flung his credit card down on the desk. The atmosphere was a little tense. Marie and Evan appeared to be as nervous as Declan was mad. A seething Bronte threw her magazine down onto the table and nudged me.
“Please can you go and ask how long Dr. Baskin will be.”
I snorted out a laugh, just as I’d done the first time Bronte had told me the name of her OBGYN.
“His name is not Carole,” she said without even looking at me, like she’d already said it a dozen times – which come to think of it she had.
Deciding it best not to say another word, I lifted my numb ass off the seat to go and check with the nurse on the desk. Before I’d even moved a step, the consulting room door opened again and a real handsome guy shouted, ‘Bronte Jackson’.
I looked over my shoulder to see that Bronte was standing and putting her purse over her shoulder.
“That’s the doc?” I asked. “Him. The guy that looks like that Somerhalder dude?”
“Yes, why?” Bronte smiled, not for my benefit of course, and moved past me.
“Bronte. Hi, I’m Dr. Baskin, please come through.”
We both followed him into his consultation room where there was a nurse filling in some forms. When the doctor went over and spoke quietly to her, I moved alongside Bronte.
“He’s so good looking he’s hurting my damn eyes,” I whispered. “Don’t they have someone older and uglier to look up your vagina?”
Bronte didn’t respond and before I had time to add anything else, Dr. Baskin turned back to us, his Hollywood smile glowing in our direction.
“Okay, Bronte, if you’d like to hop up on the bed, and Dad you can sit in the chair next to it.” He winked at me and while I really wanted him to look like a dick doing it, even I had to admit he looked pretty cool. “Once you’re up there, Bronte, if you’d like to roll your yoga pants and underwear down so Maggie can then cover you and put the gel on for the sonogram.”
Bronte nodded and passed me her purse with a shaky hand.
“Hey, Lollipop,” I said, looking her in the eye. “It’s going to be fine. We’re about to meet our baby.”
She nodded, exhaled a shaky breath and got ready for our life changing moment.
* * *
