The Proposition (19 page)

Patrick picked up an oven mitt. “Aidan, why
don’t you take Emma on to the dining room and set another plate at
the table while I get the food together?”

“Why don’t you let me help?” Emma
offered.

He smiled. “That would be wonderful.”

Once everything was finished, they all sat
down. Patrick reached out his hands. “Aidan, would you return
grace?”

Emma’s mouth gaped open in shock. Never in a
million years would she have pegged Aidan anything remotely close
to religious, least of all being entrusted with saying the
blessing.

As he reached out for her hand, Aidan winked.
“Close your mouth, Em. You’ll catch a fly like that.”

She pinched her lips together and shot him a
murderous glance. But when he took his hand in hers and grazed his
fingers tenderly over her knuckles, her anger evaporated. “Dear
Lord for what we are about to receive make us truly thankful.
Amen.”

As they lifted their heads, Patrick repeated,
“Amen.” Emma gave Aidan a coy smile and murmured, “Short and
sweet.” He merely chuckled and put his napkin in his lap.

The moment Patrick took the lid off the pot
Emma’s stomach clenched.
Oh no, not now. Please not now!
she
silently begged
.
As the meaty aroma invaded her nostrils,
nausea overtook her. The bile rose in her throat, and she clamped
her hand over her mouth. “Sorry!” she murmured before leaping from
the table, knocking her chair over in the process.

Aidan swept a nervous glance over to his
father. He swallowed hard as Patrick stared at Emma’s retreating
form. At the sound of the bathroom door slamming, Patrick raised an
expectant brow.

His mind whirled with how he was going to
possibly explain Emma’s behavior and keep their secret. He finally
smiled apologetically. “I should have mentioned that she was a
vegetarian, and that the smell of meat makes her sick.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“Excuse me?” Aidan demanded, leaning forward
in his seat. That was certainly not the response he expected. His
lie seemed pretty plausible to him. Well except for the small fact
that Emma had happily accepted a lunch invitation for meaty pie not
ten minutes ago.

Patrick shook his head. “She’s pregnant,
isn’t she?”

Aidan’s own stomach churned, and he fought
the urge to bolt from the table just like Emma. “What would possess
you to think that?” he croaked. He sure as hell hoped Emma hadn’t
mentioned something to Patrick while they were looking at the
roses. If anyone was going to drop the bomb about his impending
fatherhood, it was going to be him.

“Because of your mother. She couldn’t stand
to be in the same room with meat when she was pregnant with you.
Even the faintest smell would send her to the bathroom. The worst
was when we were in the city and passed a hotdog stand.” Patrick
smiled wistfully. “I haven’t seen anyone have that kind of reaction
since her, not even your sisters.”

Aidan cast a glance down the hall. “Emma’s
only about six weeks along. The morning sickness, or I guess I
should say nausea, is hitting her really bad.”

“I assume the child is yours?”

“Of course it is,” Aidan growled.

“Surely you can see why I would question you.
After all, you introduced her as a friend from work and now you’re
telling me she’s pregnant with your child.”

“I didn’t quite know how to tell you.”

“Are you planning on marrying her?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Patrick’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “It
isn’t? I thought when you got a woman pregnant, you did the
honorable thing and offered to marry her. Why the hell were you
sleeping with her if you didn’t love her or see a future with her?
Or are you still hell bent on being the asshole who uses women for
his selfish own purposes?”

Aidan narrowed his eyes and gripped the edge
of the lace tablecloth. “Jesus Christ, Pop, don’t hold anything
back. Tell me how you really feel!”

“I’m sorry, but you’re thirty-two years old.
You haven’t had a single long-term relationship since you broke it
off with Amy.” Patrick shook his head sadly. “If I’m being
completely honest, I could say that Amy and Emma remind me a lot of
each other. I certainly don’t want to see Emma get hurt like Amy
did, especially if she’s carrying my grandchild.”

“Look, quit playing me out as the villain.
Emma wanted a baby, so I agreed to help her.”

Patrick opened and closed his mouth like a
fish out of water. Once he had a moment to adjust to the news, an
amused smile curved on his lips. “Ah, you’re like her stud horse or
something?”

“Not funny.”

“Sorry, son. I couldn’t resist.” He patted
Aidan’s arm. “All joking aside, I just want you to think long and
hard about what you’re doing. I can see you care deeply for Emma,
and she does for you.”

Aidan shifted in his chair and stared down at
his hands. “I don’t know how I feel.”

“You know what your mother would say, don’t
you?”

Sinking fast in the quick-sand of his
father’s words, Aidan swept out of his chair and went to pour
himself a drink. He pulled the Scotch from the cabinet. “Don’t
bring her into this. She badgered me enough herself. Always
wondering why I broke Amy’s heart, or why I wouldn’t settle down,
marry some nice girl from church, and punch out a bunch of kids.”
He conveniently left out the part about how she had made him
promise on her deathbed to have children one day.

“Don’t you realize son she knew that’s what
would really make you happy.”

Aidan scowled. “But she never saw the real
me—she only believed the good parts. If she had really stopped to
think about it, she would have realized I never wanted to be tied
down or be stuck with the same woman day in and day out.”

Hurt radiated in Patrick’s eyes. “Is that
what you think of the forty-five years I had with your mother?”

Aidan threw his head back and stared at the
water stain on the dining room ceiling. He wished he had never
answered his phone or agreed to come over. Most of all, he wished
he had never,
ever
thought bringing Emma with him would be a
good idea. She had been right when she anticipated her presence
would bring on the third degree. Aidan sighed and looked over at
his father. “No, Pop, that’s not what I think. But we’re different
people.”

“Emma could be the best thing that’s ever
happened to you.”

A snort erupted from Aidan’s lips. “How the
hell would you know that? You’ve been with her all of an hour!”

“I may be an old man, but I’m not blind.
She’s the total package, son. She’s just as beautiful on the inside
as she is on the out. How can you not be amazed by what a special
young woman she is? Why if I was your age, I’d be doing everything
in my power to make her mine—especially if she was carrying my
child.”

Aidan opened his mouth to argue, but at the
sound of the bathroom door creaking, he closed it. “Not a word,” he
whispered to his father. When Emma appeared, her face was
positively ghost-like except for the flush of embarrassment on her
cheeks. She eased down in her seat and tentatively glanced across
the table at Aidan.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She gave a weak smile. “I’m fine.” She then
turned to Patrick. “Mr. Fitzgerald, I’m so sorry for ruining your
lunch like that.”

He held up his index finger to silence her.
“You did no such thing.” He reached across the table to squeeze her
hand. “Besides, it does an old man’s heart good to hear he’s going
to be a grandfather again.”

“Shit, Pop, I said not a word!” Aidan
exclaimed as Emma’s eyes widened as big as saucers.

“You told him?” she demanded.

Patrick shook his head. “Now don’t be getting
upset with him. I’m the one who guessed it. When my late wife was
pregnant with Aidan, she suffered terribly with morning
sickness—well, we jokingly called it the all day sickness because
it wasn’t just regulated to the morning. And smells bothered her
something terrible.”

Emma clutched her abdomen. “It’s awful.”

“If I were a betting man, I’d put good money
on you’re carrying a boy. After all, my wife only experienced what
she did with Aidan.”

Emma gave a dreamy smile. “A boy would be
wonderful, but I’ll just as happy with a girl—as long as he or she
is healthy is all that matters.”

Patrick patted her hand. “Oh, but you need a
boy. That way the Fitzgerald family name will go on.” He turned to
Aidan. “You are planning on giving the baby your last name, aren’t
you?”

“Jesus Christ, Pop! Lighten up.”

“I’m a staunch Irish Catholic, son, I’m not
going to ease up on the legitimacy of my grandchild.”

Aidan felt the blood draining from his face.
He immediately reached for his glass and knocked back the rest of
the Scotch. At his father’s continued scrutiny, he shifted in his
chair. “Well, Emma and I haven’t discussed it.”

“Don’t you want to carry on our family’s
name?” Patrick turned his intense gaze on Emma. “I was the only son
of my parents, and I had only one son. I have five grandsons and a
great-grandson, yet our name will die out with Aidan.”

“Oh come on, Pop, it’s not like I’ll be the
last Fitzgerald ever. Granddad Fitz had seven brothers!” Aidan
argued.

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest in a
huff. “Fine then. If you won’t give the baby your name, I’ll give
him mine!”

When Emma squeaked across from him, Aidan
knew she was upset by the overt tension between the two
strong-willed men facing off. “Would you please knock it off?
You’re freaking Em out.”

Patrick’s expression immediately softened.
“Emma, I’m so sorry if I offended or upset you. I’m fiercely
protective of my family, and now that you’re carrying my
grandchild, you’re a part of that.”

Aidan watched as Emma’s expression turned
from apprehension to positively beaming. “That’s very sweet of you
to care so much. My baby will be very lucky to have you as a
grandfather.” She drew in a breath. “But before I got pregnant,
Aidan and I set very clear parameters on what his role would
be.”

“So you object to the baby having his name?”
Patrick demanded.

“Well, no…I mean, I wouldn’t mind.” Before
Aidan could stop himself, he glowered across the table at Emma. She
quickly shook her head. “But I don’t want to pressure Aidan into
anything. No offense, Patrick, but you’re kind of putting him on
the spot. I don’t want Aidan to feel uncomfortable.”

Patrick harrumphed and leaned back in his
chair. “Fine then. I’m just an old fashioned, out of touch, old
fart!”

Emma giggled. “Aw, no you’re not. Actually,
you remind me a lot of my mother’s father. He’s really been more of
a father figure to me after my father died. Granddaddy is very
traditional and old-fashioned. And pretty easy going until you mess
with his family.”

“He sounds like my kind of man.”

“I think you two would get along very well.
He shared your same questions and concerns when he learned I was
unmarried and pregnant.” Emma twisted the napkin in her lap.
“Actually, he had quite a few choice words for me.”

Aidan experienced a twinge of protectiveness
at Emma’s discomfort. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Everything is okay now. In fact, he’s really
creative when it comes to woodworking, and he’s carving the baby a
rocking horse.”

“That’s a nice way to make amends,” Patrick
mused.

Emma smiled. “Yes, it is.”

Patrick appeared
thoughtful. Then he stood up. “Come, Emma, there’s something I’d
like you and the baby to have.”

He held out his hand, and
Emma smiled, slipping hers into his. Aidan watched as he pulled her
out of the dining room chair and led her down the hall. He sat
stunned, still unbelieving the effect Emma had on his father. Aidan
hadn’t seen him so animated in months. It was like she had brought
a piece of him that was dead back to life—something not even he or
his sisters had been able to do.

Curiosity caused him to
rise from his chair and seek them out. He found them in his
parent’s bedroom. Emma stood in the middle of the room, peering
intently at the walk-in closet. Shuffling noises came from within,
and Aidan heard his father curse softly. Finally, Patrick appeared
with a yellowed box faded with time, a beaming smile on his face.
“For my grandson,” he said, handing Emma the box.

S
he swept her free hand to her hip and challenged, “And what
if it is a girl?”

“
Trust me on this one.” When Emma huffed in protest, Patrick
laughed. “All right, all right. It will work for my granddaughter
as well.”

Emma opened the box’s lid.
Aidan leaned forward as she gently pulled away the tissue paper. A
little cry escaped her lips. Gently, she pulled out a white baby’s
gown with intricate lace and pearls. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s Aidan’s christening
gown,” Patrick said.

Aidan sucked in a breath.
His father’s words coupled with Emma holding a piece of past made
him feel like he had been punched in the gut. If there was any
doubt how his father felt about Emma and their child, it was
cemented by the tiny gown in her hands. He wasn’t entirely sure he
was ready for this level of emotion and commitment. “Dad, Emma’s
not even Catholic,” Aidan protested.

Without taking his eyes off
Emma, Patrick shook his head. “She might humor me and have the baby
Christened though.”

Emma nibbled on her bottom
lip.
“The truth is I’m Baptist.” At
Patrick’s sharp intake of breath, she held up her hand. “But
considering you and Aidan are Catholic and the baby will be half
Catholic, I suppose I could. If it meant a lot to you.”

A broad smile formed on
Patrick’s face. “It sure would.”