Page 16 of Enemy Ex's Secret Baby

It’s time, though, to let the whole thing go. Sure, it was the best sex of my life, and sure, I wish we could do it again. And again. And again. But that’s one hundred percent not going to happen, no way no how.

Right now, I’m on my way to meet Lola and Jeremiah. The three of us try to get lunch every few months and Jeremiah has just returned from Kenya. I’m sure he’ll have lots of stories to tell us.

We meet at a trendy café on Sunset shrouded by monstera leaves and crowded with people wearing big sunglasses who would say they don’t want to be recognized, yet definitely want to be recognized. As soon as I walk in, I spot Lola. I haven’t seen her since before everything shook out with Gillian. Of course, when you tell yourself to not think about something, you’re only going to be able to think about that. So, when I see my sister’s face, my mind conjures Gillian’s too.

Luckily, there’s a distraction. Across from her, with his back to me, is my big brother, Jeremiah. Seeing him always makes me feel like a kid again. I wanted to be like him in every possible way. Now, we’re adults and couldn’t be more different.

Lola waves her hand, green eyes lighting up. “Ax! Over here!”

Jeremiah turns in his seat and smiles at me as I approach. His skin is tanner than it’s ever been.

“I thought you’d be a walking sunburn!” I announce.

He stands and wraps his arms around me. I’m a tall guy and Jeremiah is even taller, gangly at six foot five. “There’s the little guy!”

I laugh as he squeezes me. “Cut it out!”

Jeremiah releases me and then I go to Lola. “Hey, sis.” I kiss the top of her head and try not to look at her too hard, or else my guilt might show on my face.

“Sit down, sit down. Jerry was just telling me about the time he had to stave off a lion with a torch.” She’s the only one of the family that can get away with calling Jeremiah by the nickname “Jerry”. If I were to try, I’d be instigating a fight.

“Okay, that’s putting it a little dramatically, don’t you think?” Jeremiah chuckles.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I say before motioning to the server approaching are table and mouthing, “Coffee.”

Jeremiah regales us with a tale of being confronted with a lion in the middle of the night when he sleepily lost his way to the outhouse and nearly walked into a den. He has us in stitches, especially with the way he explains things, with wide eyes and crazy expressions. He’s always such a goof. You’d think that job would fall on me as the younger brother, but he’s always marched to the beat of his own drum.

“Okay, enough. I need to have my coffee. Jet lag. Tell me something,” Jeremiah says, grabbing his iced latte and sipping. “How are things with you-know-who?”

I feel like I have a sword up to my throat. My mind immediately goes to Gillian.

“You mean Dad?” Lola says with a snort.

Thank god.

“Yeah, of course that’s who I mean,” Jeremiah says. The brightness of his smile fades.

“We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to,” I say.

“No, I asked. I’d like to know since he, you know, doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

Lola and I exchange a look. Things with Jeremiah and Dad have been awful going on ten years. Started right when I graduated college and joined Jeremiah working under Dad at Hitchins. Jeremiah had already been there three years and, as the oldest son, was the assumed “heir” to the company. Dad had been showing him the ropes and he was hating every minute of it.

That’s when all his do-gooder tendencies started. I guess he and Gillian have a lot in common that way. Started refusing to work on the bigger budget projects, especially in neighborhoods he perceived we were gentrifying. And then, came the big blow-up.

I remember standing outside of Dad’s office door with Lola, listening to how they were going at each other. The gist was that Jeremiah wanted Hitchins to move away from luxury projects and into developments he saw as more impactful. Playgrounds, parks, “community spaces” (Man, he really is just like Gillian).

Dad didn’t want anything to do with that and ousted him from the company. It was melodramatic. I think Dad did it to show Jeremiah just how willing he was to cut him off. If it had been me, I would have been immediately groveling at his feet.

But Jeremiah stuck to his guns. Left the company and took his own money to start funding projects in lesser developed nations. He was in Times’ hundred most influential people just two years ago.

Dad and Jeremiah have never reconciled.

“Well, he’s edgier than usual,” Lola said with a look toward me. You tell him.

“The guy is seventy now, right? Makes sense he’s starting to be a curmudgeon,” Jeremiah said with a chuckle.

“It’s worse than that,” Lola continues. “Axel, tell him.”

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