bar in the corner. “What can I get you?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
“Scotch?”
“Thank you, sir.”
Thomas splashed amber liquid into two glasses, returning to offer one to Gabe.
He accepted, fingering the fine crystal instead of sipping. Meeting the older man’s scowling gaze, he chose his words carefully. “You must have questions.”
“Plenty, I assure you, but only one I’ll ask.”
“You want to know what I plan to do about the situation.”
“That’s the one.”
“Since I only found out about the baby last night, I’m not yet completely sure. I can promise you, however, I will be a part of the child’s life.”
Thomas nodded and raised the glass to his mouth. “And my daughter?”
“Truthfully, sir, we don’t know each other well, but she’s the mother of my child. That makes her part of my life.”
“Dad, what are you doing ?”
Gabe swung his head around at Jane’s sharp demand. She rushed into the room with Caroline right behind her. Surprised at her quick return, Gabe narrowed his eyes at how pale she appeared, but at least she seemed steadier than when she fled the room several minutes earlier.
She glared at Thomas. “If you have questions, you’re asking the wrong person.”
“A baby has two parents, CJ.”
“That may be, but I’m the one responsible. I will be making the decisions.”
Gabe raised a brow at that. The last twenty-four hours might have rocked his well-ordered world, but the Whitmores, including Jane, would quickly learn he’d be involved in any decisions made concerning the life of his child.
“Let’s all sit down and discuss this calmly.” Caroline gestured toward the sofa and chairs.
“There’s nothing to discuss, Mother.”
“Your mother’s right.” Jane spun on Gabe, but he continued before she could open her mouth. “You’re white as a ghost. Sit down before you faint again.”
“Again?” Caroline hovered, her hand rubbing over the ponytail of her daughter’s pale hair.
Jane’s eyes were huge blue pools against her colorless cheeks as they glared at him. “You’re not helping.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“You fainted?” Caroline demanded more forcefully.
“I’m fine. The paramedics checked me out.”
“You needed paramedics? Oh, baby. Please, sit down.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I didn’t need paramedics. He called them.” She pointed an accusing finger at Gabe.
“Jane, have a seat.”
Though her chin jutted defiantly, she reluctantly answered the command in her father’s voice. Gabe hid a grin when she plopped down on the couch like a pouting child.
“Fine, I’m sitting.”
Thomas swirled the liquid in his glass. “How long before the baby is due?”
“Almost eight months.” Jane popped back to her feet. “So, you see, we really have nothing to discuss. I just came by to let you know.”
Thomas arched a brow. “Eight months will fly by before you know it. Have you thought of what you’ll do once you can’t work anymore?”
“Why wouldn’t I be able to work?”
Caroline sighed. “Even a woman as stubborn as you can’t be expected to heft heavy trays in a pub when you get close to your due date.”
“Pub?” Gabe frowned. “I thought you worked for Creative Cuisine.”
Thomas snorted. “That’s her weekend job. She works in a pub weeknights.”
The stubbornness Caroline mentioned was evident in the tight line of Jane’s mouth as she addressed her father. “I’ll make arrangements for easier duty once I turn into a whale. I’ve helped out behind the bar on occasion.”
“What about this pet shop job Keith mentioned?” Caroline pushed. “You can’t keep working fifteen hours a day.”
“Pet shop?” Gabe parroted. How many jobs did the woman have? He glanced around at the expensive furnishings in the Whitmore’s upper-middle-class home. Why would Jane need multiple jobs when she obviously came from a very comfortable financial situation? Was money the source of the
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