I turn and see Ted Lasker, in the flesh. The man’s bigger than I imagined—he’s as tall as Emmett, his bare chest solid, a pair of wet black trunks sticking to his hips, his legs thick. Fine lines have etched some aged roughness onto his face, and there’s silver at his temples. His appearance gives a clue as to how Emmett will look when he gets older, but the eyes are different. They’re hard and calculating.
“Well, well, well! Heard you got your girl pregnant!” Ted announces loudly. He gives Emmett another clap on the back.
Crap! How did he find out? And this is really, totally not how I envisioned everyone learning about my pregnancy!
Emmett’s expression says it isn’t his preferred method, either. Huxley and Noah’s eyes widen as they stare at Ted, then at Emmett and me. Emma cuts her conversation with the party attendee and comes closer.
“You are?” Huxley and Noah finally say in unison, although I’m not sure if they’re talking to me or Emmett, because their eyes are on him.
Emmett unclenches his teeth and turns to his dad. “Look—”
“If you’d told me, I would’ve put a water fountain in at the buffet.” Ted speaks so loudly it’s like he can’t hear anybody else. His eyes gleam with satisfaction. “I knew you’d come through when I said I wanted a grandbaby! You never let me down!” He turns to me. “So. You’re the baby carrier.”
Baby carrier? That makes me sound like some kind of fertility machine!
“Just wait until I show Josh Singer my grandbaby. He’s going to be pissed!” He laughs triumphantly and claps his hands. I can’t believe that’s the first thing going through his mind. My baby isn’t some thing he can use to piss people off!
He turns to Emmett while hooking a thumb at me. “This girl’s smart, right? I don’t want a dumb grandbaby. At least not one dumber than Josh Singer’s.”
“Uh, you can ask me directly if you’re curious about my IQ,” I say.
Ted Lasker finally turns to me. “I’d never do that. If your IQ was low, how would you know? Emmett, maybe you should take this one back and get a new one.”
It takes me a second to process what he’s saying through the haze of outrage.
Emmett wraps his arm around his dad’s shoulders. “Why don’t we go inside and talk this over like rational people?”
“I suppose. But I want a cigar! Where’s Joey?”
Chapter Forty-Three
Emmett
God damn it!
I get Dad away from Amy as quickly as possible without appearing like I’m angry or embarrassed. He isn’t drunk enough not to notice, and he’d whine, complain and make everyone’s life miserable over the perceived slight.
And I don’t need any more humiliation in front of Amy. I still want to kick my own ass for agreeing with my brothers to give Dad the cock canon last year. It was our collective way of calling him a dick, but of course Dad’s too self-centered and vain to understand the unspoken message. He thought it was a testament to his virility. Which explains why he decided to make more and use them for a game at this year’s party.
“Can you text Joey?” Dad says.
“No. We need to talk first.”
“With cigars.”
“Thanks, but I’m not really in the mood.”
“Why not? Is the baby carrier difficult about things like that? It’s just a cigar.”
“Can you stop calling her ‘the baby carrier’? Her name is Amy. She and I work together, and I like her.”
Dad looks at me like I’m an undercover Martian. “So?”
“I plan to marry her,” I say, frustrated and pushed to my limit.
“Now hold on, Emmett.” He puts a hand over his heart. “You don’t have to marry her. I wouldn’t ask you for that kind of a sacrifice.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said about me liking her?”