“You have to trust me,” Julia said. “If we say anything, they’ll just ask more questions. We should ignore them and focus on Tracy.” Please. Anything so I can stop fixating on wanting to blurt out that I have a tiny top-secret bundle of joy in my belly.

Tracy snorted and shook her head. “Focus on me.” Plopping down on the end of the couch, she broadcast her anger by aggressively flipping through a bridal magazine. “That’s rich coming from you right now.” Tracy had never been much for mincing words. Why start now?

Their father sat in his wingback chair. “Jules, I know you think you know what you’re doing, but I’ve had my own experience with the media.” Julia’s father had been a state senator for two decades. Twenty-one squeaky-clean, scandal-free years. “If they’ve fabricated this much, they’ll speculate until the cows come home. Who knows what they’ll come up with next.”

A heavy sigh came from her mother. “I can’t even think about this anymore. I need to keep myself busy in the kitchen. Maybe open a bottle of chardonnay.”

“See? Now your mother is upset. I didn’t pay all this money for a scandal and an unhappy wife.”

“Is that all you care about?” Tracy blurted. “The money? What people will say?”

“I have a reelection campaign to run next year. My family should be an asset, not a political liability.”

Tracy tossed the magazine aside. “I swear to God, it’s like I’m not even getting married. Julia and money and Dad’s job are obviously far more important.”

“We’ve never had a family scandal before, Trace. I intend to keep it that way.”

Family scandal. If only they knew. Julia took a deep breath, but it made her head swim. A smooth start to Tracy’s wedding was out the window, and it was all her fault. The guilt of that alone was overwhelming. Tracy had played second fiddle in the Keys family for the last decade, simply because of Julia’s success. People were always making a fuss, as much as Julia tried to deflect. It was time for her sister to have center stage. Then Julia could avoid the family microscope and find the perfect time to break the baby news, only after the wedding was over and the happy couple was on a cruise ship to the Bahamas.

Tracy’s fianc'e, Carter, came downstairs. “Logan just pulled up.”

Logan. There was that to deal with as well. Her stomach sank, adding an entirely new and unpleasant aspect to pregnancy queasiness. His hundred-watt smile painfully flashed in her memory. Then came the visions from their last time together. They’d spent nearly the entire weekend in bed. His bare chest, naked shoulders...and other glorious stretches of his tawny brown skin were all that wanted to cycle through her mind. Damn pregnancy hormones. Her pulse raced, stirring emotion—anger over the way Logan had ended things after the reunion, frustration over once again being the girl who never managed to do anything the right way. In between all of that was a churning sea of uncertainty. And some churning of her stomach as well. She was going to be a mom. And Logan might be the father. Or he might not. Either way, she had no choice other than to tell him, deal with his reaction and move on. There was nothing more than moving on between them, and that was to be done as two separate parties. Logan had seen to that.

But first she had to find the right time to tell him. Maybe she’d take the approach her mother did when she had potentially upsetting news to break to her father—she’d tell him while he was driving. A man could only freak out so much with two hands on the wheel.

* * *

Parked on the narrow tree-lined street, several houses down from the grand Victorian the Keys family had lived in since he could remember, Logan Brandt bided his time in his rental car. Sunglasses on, flipping the keys on his finger, he studied the reporters milling about, consulting their phones. Waiting.

“What a mess,” he mumbled. The buzz of activity was normal when it came to Julia. Even if she’d never become a box office hit or had her stunning face land on the cover of countless magazines, drama still would’ve found her. As to the cause, Logan was so tired of this scenario he could hardly see straight. Julia was once again romantically entangled with a disastrous guy. One of her projects, no doubt, as he referred to them.

His phone rang. Carter, the groom-to-be, his best friend from high school. “Hey,” Logan answered. “I’m just now getting to the house.”

“Liar. You’re sitting in your rental car because you don’t want to deal with Hurricane Julia.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Nobody in Wilmington drives a car that expensive. Well, nobody but you.”

Logan snickered. He did have an appetite for nice cars, especially if they were fast, and if anyone knew him well, it was Carter. He and Logan had met freshman year of high school at baseball tryouts. Logan landed a spot on varsity, a harbinger of things to come—full scholarship to UCLA, eight years as a major league pitcher. Record-breaking seasons. Record-breaking salaries. Then a World Series, a loss, and a career-ending injury. His trajectory had never suggested it’d all be over by the time he was thirty.