That would not happen because—
“I’m not having this conversation until you tell me how you found out.” Courtney leaned back in the booth they’d snagged for their chat. She crossed her arms. They both knew she could outlast him.
She raised her eyebrows at him.
He raised his eyebrows at her.
Eyebrows raised all around.
Mercifully, the server brought Courtney her cranberry juice with soda and Hans his beer. First thing after this baby was born, she’d have a beer. A delicious hoppy brew with only a little foam and a lot of yum.
Hans caved first, like she knew he would. She withheld the evil laugh that seemed appropriate for this conversation.
“I talked to your dad today, and he spilled your baby beans,” Hans said.
That was a flipping relief because she could still trust her doctor. And yet—
She tossed her hands up, choking a little on her cranberry juice. “Is nothing sacred with my family?”
A wry smile sketched across Hans’s lips.
“You need to tell Bax,” he said gently, like her mother had spoken to her that morning.
“How the hell did you—”
“I did the math.” Hans lifted his shoulder. “The timeline of Bax’s liaison lines up.” He studied her for a long beat. Thankfully, she didn’t have to ask more questions. “Bax told me the gist of what happened.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“He didn’t tell me the details.” Hans shook his head and murmured, “Thank fuck for that.”
“Well, thank goodness Bax didn’t giveallthe dirty details,” she said with a huff. Hans didn’t need to know that she had developed a thing for long, hot showers.
“I’m worried about you,” Hans said.
She was seriously getting tired of people talking to her like she might break. She was pregnant, yes, but she was still her badass self. A morebadassversion of herself that was actually building a tiny human while drinking cranberry juice. She’d finally become the epitome of a multitasker.
“I’m going to tell him,” she said, instead of responding to his statement. “Right now, he’s in Bermuda, so it’s a bit of a trip.”
“What do you have planned for the future?” Hans asked, again with the frustrating gentleness.
Make no mistake, the two of them didn’t do gentle. They did professional and often a lot of sarcasm.
“Since I’ll be toting a mini-me around, I haven’t decided what’s in store for me,” she said in total honesty.
“The little one could be a mini-Bax,” Hans pointed out. “Not a mini-you.”
That was possible. Even likely. Knowing Bax, his sperm was probably just as pushy and would shove her DNA out of the way to make room for his own.
“I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?” Courtney said, hoping that a few pieces of her made the cut. “I’m taking things step-by-step. Day by day. Taking things as they come and processing them like the queen I am.”
That sounded really healthy. She bet even Linx’s new therapist girlfriend would be all over supporting that kind of self-talk.
Hans didn’t answer.
“You really think you can salvage Dimefront?” she asked. Because after meeting Mach and Tanner—the guys Linx was making music with in Denver—she was thinking Dimefront might really be done this time.
That would, of course, not be the worst thing for her. That would mean Bax wouldn’t be part of her everyday life and her work.
