Page 50 of Shine: Sins of the Father
“No!” I snap. “It’s my decision whether or not to tell them, not yours. God, Rafe, why can’t you mind your own business?”
“You’re my kid sister. You are my business.”
“I want you to leave. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until they get here.”
“Rafe, please. I can’t do this today. I’m exhausted.”
“And that’s another thing. You shouldn’t be doing all this by yourself in your condition. You’ve got a family, Fiona. We’re here to take the load off you. You know, that’s what’s always been wrong with you. You always think you have to do everything by yourself.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
A flash of headlights arcs across the windows, and I spot my mother’s Corvette pulling in. Oh crap. My heart races, and my blood pounds in my ears. Is this what an anxiety attack feels like?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Fiona—
My parents walk in my shop, and I stay behind the register, praying Rafe will change his mind and keep his mouth shut.
“How’s my girl?” my father asks.
“Good. I had a great day. Look.” I slide him the register tape, and he scans it.
“Wonderful. I’m proud of you, Fiona. You’ve really busted your ass. You had a dream, and you made it happen. That’s more than a lot of people in the world ever do. That takes guts.”
“It does,” my mother agrees. “And our girl has that in spades.”
“You want a cupcake, Daddy?” I offer, opening the case. “Here, try this. It’s the flavor of the day. Tiramisu.” I pass him one.
“Ooh. Tiramisu. I’ll take one. I love tiramisu,” my mother says, and I give her one, glancing surreptitiously at my brother.
He stands with his arms folded, but even though I know he’s going to tell them, I see no pleasure on his face. We spend a few minutes pleasantly with my parents enjoying their treat. But my stomach is in knots, knowing Rafe’s just waiting for the right time to drop the bomb.
Instead of blurting it, he throws it to me. “Fiona has something she needs to tell you. I’ll wait outside.” With that, Rafe walks out, and my mouth drops open.
My father leans a hand on the counter, his other on his hip. “What do you need to tell us, honey?”
After all that talk about how brave I am, I decide to be just that. After all, I’m not a child. I’m a grown woman with her own business. I’ve got to take responsibility for this, too. I lick my lips, but I can’t get the words out, so I do the only thing I can think of. I pull the apron off and come out from behind the counter.
My father’s eyes drop to my rounding belly, then flick up to mine. I glance to my mother, and she lifts a hand, her fingertips going to her mouth.
“Fiona,” she whispers.
“Are you…?” my father begins, but he can’t even finish the question, his face tight.
“Yes. I’m pregnant. Twenty weeks. I’ve been to the doctor. The baby is due March 27th. I actually have an ultrasound on Friday. Mom, would you go with me?”
My father seems stunned speechless, but my mother dashes to me and pulls me into a hug, her eyes filling with tears. As we hold each other, I’m not sure if they’re happy tears or sad until she pulls back and huffs a laugh.
“Oh, my baby. My baby is having a baby. I can’t believe it.” She cups my cheeks. “You’re well? You’re feeling good?”
“Yes, Mom. I’m fine, just tired. And lately, I’ve been hungry all the time.”
My father’s voice cuts across the room. I guess his shock has worn off.
“Who’s the father, Fiona?” It’s hisI’m-not-fucking-aroundvoice.
