My Fiancé's Baby Isn't Mine, So Neither Is My Fortune novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Seven O'Clock

Bethany walks into Dean's welcome party at her own carriage house, and his three cards decline in front of forty phones; he answers by waving a deed that says the house is his.

The man at the curb opened the car door wider and I got in.

"Derrick Carrigan," he said, once we were moving. "I run security for your mother's family office."

I had seen him twice before, at Newport garden parties, standing near the gate.

He had never spoken to me.

"Your cards stopped working this afternoon," he said. "So did Mr. Mercer's. Your mother has the authorization log if you want it."

"I don't want a log."

"She said you'd say that."

He looked at me in the rearview mirror.

"She also said you might want to see seven o'clock, and that I should drive you wherever you decided."

I thought about Dean's face when he said I wasn't family.

"Brooklyn," I said. "The carriage house."

We got there at five minutes to seven.

Paper lanterns hung along the stone drive, and a banner over the door said Welcome Baby in gold letters.

A caterer's van was parked across my garden bed.

There were forty guests on the lawn, most of them people I had hosted at my own dinners.

Dean stood at the center with a glass of champagne.

Heidi sat beside him in a white armchair with the baby in her arms, still wearing her hospital bracelet.

She saw me first and her whole face brightened.

"Bethany! You came. I'm so glad."

She tried to get up, and Dean put a hand on her shoulder to keep her down.

"Don't," he said. "You need to rest. Bethany can come to you."

I walked across the grass with Derrick two steps behind me.

Heidi took my hand and held it in both of hers.

"I know this is strange for you. I'm so sorry if it hurt. I wanted you to be the first to meet him."

Her hands were warm, and her voice shook a little.

I looked at the baby's tuft of white hair and felt only tired.

"He's healthy?" I asked.

"Perfect," she said. "Three weeks early, but perfect."

Dean cleared his throat and tapped his glass with a spoon.

The talking on the lawn stopped.

"Friends," he said. "Thank you for coming on short notice."

"Today I became a father."

Somebody in the back clapped.

"I want to thank the two people who made this possible. Heidi, for being the bravest woman I know."

He turned his head and looked at me.

"And everyone who has helped us get this far."

He did not say my name.

A woman I had known since college lowered her phone and looked at me.

Nobody clapped for that line.

Dean lifted his glass and smiled around the lawn.

"Eat, drink, enjoy. Everything is on me tonight."

The caterer's manager stepped forward from the edge of the crowd, holding a small card reader.

"Mr. Mercer, I'm sorry to interrupt. The final payment hasn't gone through."

Dean laughed softly.

"Run it again."

The manager ran it again.

The reader beeped, and the screen showed a red word.

"It's declined, sir."

"Then use the black one."

Dean pulled a second card out of his wallet and handed it over without looking at it.

The manager ran it.

The screen turned red again.

Forty phones came up on the lawn.

"There's a mistake," Dean said. His smile was still on, but his jaw had gone tight. "Try the third."

"Sir, I have tried all three."

"Then the bank is down."

"All three banks?"

Someone in the crowd laughed out loud, and then someone else did.

Dean looked across the lawn at me.

I stood very still with my hands in my coat pockets.

"Bethany," he said. His voice was low and cold. "What did you do?"

"I made a phone call."

"Your cards, your car lease and the gate code all run through my accounts," I said. "I closed them this afternoon."

A man near the lanterns whistled low.

Dean's hand shook, and champagne ran down his wrist onto the grass.

Heidi pressed the baby closer to her chest and glanced between us.

"Dean," she said, very softly. "Please don't fight tonight."

"I am not fighting," Dean said.

He pointed at the manager.

"Tell your boss the money is coming. I'm good for it. I live here."

The manager looked at him patiently.

"Sir, the booking was under Ms. Ames's trust, and the trust has closed the account."

The lawn went quiet again.

Dean's face went from pink to white.

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of heavy paper.

He shook it open with one snap and held it up for the whole yard to see.

"The house is mine," he said. "She signed it over to me in March."

He looked at me with open triumph, and for the first time that day I felt a flicker of real fear.

I had signed a great many papers for Dean over six years.

"Check the deed."

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