Page 113 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
“Better,” he said.
His phone rang before I could say anything.
“Lissy,” he answered, looking more and more irritated the longer he listened to his sister. “Fine,” he said before hanging up.
“Lissy and Ma are coming over. Lissy wanted to say good-bye before she leaves Sunday and thought you girls could drink some champagne,” Jess said, not at all sounding happy that his family was coming over.
“Uh . . . did you tell her that there are five little girls here? She doesn’t seem to really . . . like kids much.”
“Then I guess they won’t stay long.”
“Jess! That’s not nice.”
He grumbled something under his breath and walked out of the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, Felicity and Noelle joined us. Felicity took one look at the dining room table filled with little girls and immediately went to open the champagne. Much like her brother, she downed her first two glasses without hesitation. Noelle just smiled her sweet smile and watched the kids play.
Jess was nowhere in sight. He had disappeared right after saying hello to his mother and sister.
I was sipping champagne glass number two when my phone rang. It was Maisy.
She must have told Everett she was pregnant and was calling to give me a report.
“I need to take this, sorry,” I told Felicity and Noelle, moving to the office.
“Hi,” I answered.
“Gigi?” she said, crying.
“Uh-oh. I’m guessing that you talked to Everett?” I asked.
“Yep. And it was awful!” she sobbed.
“Do you want to come over here and talk about it?”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Of course. Come on over. But I’ll warn you that we’re having a sleepover with four of Rowen’s friends. And Noelle and Felicity are over too,” I said.
“Oh . . . well, I’m not sure—”
“Come over. We can talk in the kitchen. And maybe some girl time will make you feel better.”
I ended our call and walked out of the office, colliding with Jess’s chest. I wasn’t sure where he was going but I noticed another beer in his hand.
“Oh . . . hi, honey. Maisy is coming over,” I said.
“Fine,” he muttered and then walked around me to disappear again, the bottle tipped to his lips.
“He was just so clinical. Like I was a patient. He acted like it wasn’t even his baby we were talking about. That he had no part in its creation. He just sat there and calmly told me to think about having an abortion. I was looking at him and I didn’t even know him,” she said, standing at the kitchen island.
“I’m sorry, Maisy.” Though it was far better than the way Nate Fletcher had reacted, it still wasn’t great.
“Did you ever?” she asked quietly.
“Did I ever, what?”
She turned her head in all directions to make sure we were alone. “Think about having an abortion?”
