Emma flushed. “Well, no, I mean, it’s complicated.”

“Isn’t love always complicated?”

“I-I guess so. But we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, so he’s not in love—I mean, we’re not in love.”

Patrick pinched his lips together. “Do you see this rose?”

Emma nodded.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to bloom, does it?”

Tilting her head, Emma eyed the closed bud. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah, but that’s where appearances are deceiving. Sometimes the ones that bloom fastest fade quickly. It’s these that are the toughest to coax out that make some of the most gorgeous flowers.” He snipped a long stemmed Don Juan and handed it to Emma. “You can tell me that you and Aidan aren’t in love, but looks can be deceiving.”

She gasped and almost dropped the rose. She opened her mouth to argue with Patrick, but Aidan came strolling up. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s all right, son. I was enjoying getting to know Emma better,” Patrick replied. Emma ducked her head to avoid his intense stare. “Won’t you two join me for lunch?

“I was actually in the process of taking Em out to brunch when you called.”

“Psh, who wants brunch when you can have a home cooked meal? It’s your mother’s Shepherd’s Pie.”

Emma watched as Aidan’s eyes lit up, and she knew she could forgo her craving for pancakes. “That sounds delicious,” she said.

Aidan raised his eyebrows questioningly, and she nodded. “Okay, then, we’ll stay.”

“Wonderful!” Patrick exclaimed, motioning them to the backdoor.

Emma smiled. “I have to admit I’m very impressed with the culinary skills of the Fitzgerald men.”

Patrick glanced at Aidan over his shoulder. “Oh, you’ve cooked for Emma?”

She fought the urge to giggle at what looked like a red flush creeping across Aidan’s tanned cheeks. “Yeah, just some scampi. Nothing exciting.”

“He’s just being modest. It was delicious.”

Patrick held the door open for them. “I guess us Fitzgerald men have become forced into learning to cook—mine because of being a widower and Aidan for being a confirmed bachelor.”

“I’m sure whatever you have prepared will be delicious,” Emma said.

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.

CHAPTER TWENTY

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 ass**le 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.”