A Very Daddy Christmas (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 21

21

Cora

I don’t know if it’s the stress, the pregnancy, or a bit of both, but I seem to be spending more and more time each morning puking my guts out in the bathroom. At home, it’s easier to hide my symptoms. At the bakery, it’s getting harder to conceal a growing issue that shouldn’t be an issue. It’s a blessing.

I’m having a baby.

And I’m terrified.

Smack in the middle of a coffee order, I feel the burn traveling up my throat. I give the customer an apologetic smile and nudge Eva, who’s cleaning a work surface next to mine.

“Eva, can you handle this gentleman’s panini, please?”

“Yeah, sure, what’s going—”

I bolt before my sister has a chance to finish her question. I make it to the bathroom just in time, emptying everything in my stomach. I wipe the sweat off my face and neck, then wash my hands and rinse my mouth.

“Ugh, there went my breakfast,” I mumble to myself in the mirror.

“What in the world is going on with you?” Eva demands, scaring me half to death.

Oh, shit.

“I didn’t lock the door,” I mutter, trying to muster the courage to look at her.

My sister stands a few feet away, leaning against the bathroom door, hands on her hips and a streak of blueberry jam smudged across her green Levine Bakery apron. “No, you did not.”

“Who’s manning the counter?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Carl. Everyone’s taken care of, for now. Except you, it seems,” Eva replies, looking understandably worried. “Cora, what’s going on here? This isn’t the first time you’ve slipped away, pale-faced and sickly.”

“I’m okay,” I offer a weak smile.

She purses her lips for a moment. She can tell that’s a shameless lie. “Cora.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. I can almost see the realization hitting her. The precise moment in which she puts two and two together, and her eyes grow as large as saucers. “Oh, shit.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her.

She looks over her shoulder, careful so no one can overhear us. “You’re pregnant.”

“Maybe keep it between us?”

Eva exhales sharply then walks over to me. “Come here,” she says, giving me a big hug. “Of course it stays between us. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry,” I shudder. “It wasn’t planned. It just happened.”

“That’s usually how it goes,” she scoffs. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m well aware I should’ve been more careful, mind you,” I say, going into a slight panic as I think aloud, as I try to explain myself in a way that makes sense. Yet the more I say the dumber I feel. “We should’ve been more careful. God, what have I gotten myself into, Eva?”

She takes my hands in hers, giving me a soft but meaningful squeeze. “Deep breath, Cora.”

“Deep breath.” I take one in, filling my lungs, then slowly release it. My heart is drumming in my ears.

“How long have you known?” Eva asks.

“About a week and a half.”

“Which one of them is it?” Eva inquires.

I can’t help but laugh, almost hysterically. “Trust me when I say that it doesn’t really matter,” I manage.

“It does matter. He’s the father. Does he know? Who is it, Cora? Sebastian? Riggs? Waylan?”

“Sebastian,” I mumble. In fairness, we did agree to make him the public boyfriend if push ever came to shove. Push just bumped into shove. “He doesn’t know.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. Please, don’t say a word.”

“I told you, I’m not going to say anything,” Eva reassures me. “But Cora, you can’t shoulder this alone. I mean, you can, but you shouldn’t. He needs to know.”

“I’ll tell him. At some point. I just need to figure a few things out first. Once Christmas is over with, once the escrow expires and we’re safe, I’ll tell him. I promise.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything,” she says and takes me in her arms again. Almost instantly I burst into tears, relaxing in her heartfelt embrace, finding familiar comfort and safety. “Honey, you shouldn’t go through this alone.”

She’s choking up. Eva was older than me when our parents passed away. Her young adulthood turned into young motherhood the minute she realized I still needed a mom and dad, just days after we’d buried ours. I remember how hard it was on both of us. The struggle, the frustration, the sacrifices she made for me, for our safety and our future.

“You did,” I say to Eva as I gently pull back to look at her. “And you were a frickin’ warrior, through and through.”

“Well, that’s true, but I was scared out of my mind,” she laughs. “You don’t remember that part, do you? I was angling for college, a career… but you needed me. And no one prepared me for motherhood. I loved every second of it, don’t get me wrong. But I was scared, Cora.”

“I bet.”

“It’s frightening, it’s new. It is life-changing, no matter how you look at it. But you’re not alone in this, okay? With or without Sebastian, you will never be alone.”

I blink back another round of tears. “You have your own family to worry about, Eva. I can’t have you wasting any more time on me. It wouldn’t be right. I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“You are my family, Cora. What the hell,” she shoots back, half-amused. “My time was never wasted on you, and I’m not letting you deal with any of this on your own. Get that through your head.”

A chuckle escapes my throat. “I don’t know why I worried you’d berate me or tear me a new one if you found out.”

“Probably because of how I tore you a new one when I found you making out with Cody Jenkins behind the bleachers. Or when I caught you trying to convince Mr. Sheldon to buy you and Antonia beer,” she replies with a raised eyebrow.

“Right. I may have a history of doing dumb things.”

“You’ve always wanted a family. Kids, the white picket fence, the whole shebang. Granted, it would’ve been nice to get the husband first, but hey, Sebastian can always catch up on that front,” Eva says, her smile fading. “What are his intentions, exactly?”

Another tough question.

It’s as if I can’t catch a break. Then again, this situation is all on me. It’s of my own making, and I need to deal with its consequences. There’s no turning back, and I know what I have to do. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s my truth. I need to own it.

“We’re going somewhere with this,” I tell Eva. “I just don’t know where, exactly. It’s a bit more complicated because of our current situation with the bakery and Orson and—”

“There’s a lot on our plates,” she nods in agreement. “I get it. Well, get that concealer out, put your face on, and meet me behind the counter. It’s almost lunch time.”

She’s right, I look like crap. Tired and hangry. Pale as a corpse. A bit puffy around the eyes. Nothing a good concealer can’t resolve, though.

The bakery looks awfully empty for lunchtime.

I don’t like it.

Customers have been getting scarcer with each passing day. I did manage to do some damage control where our ratings are concerned on social media, but we’re still the subject of a growing boycott. Eva keeps telling people off as soon as they give me funny looks, which has turned more folks away. I’d hoped it would pass, but by what I’m seeing at this hour, it’s only getting worse.

“This is annoying,” Eva mutters as she checks the panini display.

“I am so sorry,” I reply.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m being painted as the town hussy. Too many people are buying it, and it’s having a detrimental effect on our business.”

Eva shakes her head. “If people want to be judgmental dicks, they can go ahead and be judgmental dicks. No matter what they say about you, Cora, you need to stay true to yourself. Your personal business is yours and yours alone.”

“You say that now. Wait until the gas bill for December comes in. What if we can’t cover our expenses going forward?”

“We’ll figure something out,” she says. “I’m not letting anybody kick us or shame us out of here. We’ll stand our ground and keep going about our business. You said it yourself, sis. The storm shall pass.”

“I’m starting to think we might not be able to weather it after all.”

“It’s probably the hormones talking. Want a panini? We’ve got plenty,” she chuckles dryly and helps herself to one as well.

I grab one and try to enjoy every morsel, but guilt isn’t easy to quell, not even with this amazing sourdough. We sit in silence for a little while, watching the handful of customers work their way through a few pastries and coffees, but once they leave, the bakery is again empty. It’s sad and heartbreaking because this place is usually so lively around noon. Dad would be so upset.

“Cora, every business has its ups and downs,” Eva says.

“You’re starting to annoy me with this whole Pollyanna shtick. I think I’d rather see you angry, kicking and screaming,” I mutter and take another bite from my sandwich.

She laughs lightly. “Would it make you feel less guilty?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the point?” She checks the time. “You’re picking Dario up from preschool in a couple of hours, right?”

“Yeah.”

Eva finishes her panini then pops open two bottles of cream soda. “Why don’t you come over tonight? We can order takeout, just the two of us. It would take some of the edge off. Don’t you think?”

Eva and Carl were able to find a darling house to rent after Waylan’s buddy hired him. It’s perfect for them and the girls, and it will allow them to put some more savings aside to eventually buy their own home, assuming all goes well with the escrow. It’s a short drive to the bakery, and not too far from the guys’ house, either.

“The guys have a dinner meeting tonight and Sherry isn’t available. We’ve been having trouble getting her to come by the house lately,” I say, shaking my head slowly. “From what Sebastian says, she’s been getting more shifts at the country club. It might turn into a problem later down the road.”

“Ah, I see.” Eva glances away for a moment, then gives me a curious look. “Has she said anything?”

“About what?”

She shrugs lightly. “About the townspeople and their pitchforks, the rumors. Pretty sure she still goes to church every Sunday. And she works at the country club, where those two bastards love to hang out.”

“She hasn’t said anything to me. But you know what, I’ll ask her,” I reply, nodding slowly. “I will definitely ask her. She could very well have some insight on this whole thing.”

Sherry may be young, but she could prove to be a valuable resource. The country club job gives her eyes and ears in a place where the city’s most powerful people like to hang out. The Sunday sermon puts her in the middle of a community currently itching to ruin my reputation. And the fact that she knows us—me, in particular—on a personal level, gives Sherry a unique point of view. Plus, she’s smart enough to smell the BS from a mile away.

“Oh, crap,” Eva mumbles as she checks the computer. “Another order fell through.”

“Wait, what? Who?”

“The Livingstons.”

That one hurts. They placed their order at the Christmas fair. It was a big one, too. Three cakes, four quiches, and a jumbo plate of holiday-themed cookies. They were contemplating getting the cupcakes as well, but we’d agreed to give them a couple of weeks to decide.

“They do know the deposit is non-refundable at this point in time, right?” I ask Eva.

“Yeah, but they don’t care,” she says, reading through their email. “They said they cannot keep doing business with a place that doesn’t align with their religious and societal values. What in the world is going on here?”

“It’s about me,” I sigh deeply. That delicious panini I just finished scarfing down is trying to work its way back up, but a few chugs of cream soda put a stop to it. “The town harlot.”

“Come on, Cora. You’re dating a rich and handsome man. What the hell is wrong with them? It’s the twenty-first century, for Pete’s sake.”

“It’s more than that. You’ve heard the rumors.”

“I don’t care if you’re boning an entire football team!” Eva snaps and angrily slaps the table. “You’re a single woman in her early twenties. You have all the freedom in the world, and I repeat, it’s the twenty-first century! Besides, it’s nobody’s damn business what you do behind closed doors!”

Okay. Perhaps I should tell her about my relationship with Sebastian, Riggs, and Waylan. I think she’ll be more understanding than I originally thought. Of course she will, she’s my sister. I should tell her, she deserves to know. The more these people talk, the truer it’ll become, anyway. That’s how rumors grow. Like a cancer, often getting out of control.

“Eva, I should—”

“Granted, it would be weird and insane and definitely cause financial ruin,” she says, letting her thoughts run rampant. “Because this is obviously still a bigoted, closed-minded city.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, swallowing my words altogether.

She takes a deep breath and closes the laptop. “I’m thinking chocolate crepes. What do you say?”

“Only if you’re making them.”

“I’m the only one who makes them right, so of course I’ll be making them.”

We laugh, but it’s not sincere. We’re tiptoeing around explosive gossip. Our resolve is repeatedly tested, day in and day out. And Eva seems ready to fight this battle uphill, right beside me.

I’m not sure she’s ready for the losses she might endure, however. It’s one thing to be determined to resist a deluge of slander and mean-spirited boycotting, but it’s a different bucket of crap to deal with real physical and financial fallout.