But that was a lot easier said than done with the latest developments in his personal life.
He swirled his local craft beer in his glass, watching the mini tornado foam in the center as he made himself comfortable in the den long after dinner had ended. Back when this house had still belonged to his parents, most of the rooms had been fussy and full of interior decorator additions—elaborate crystal light fixtures that hung so low he and his brothers broke a part of it every time they threw a ball in the house. Or three-dimensional art that spanned whole walls and would scrape the skin off an arm if they tackled each other into it.
The den had always been male terrain and it remained a place where Gervais felt most comfortable. The place where he most often met with his brothers. Dempsey had headed for this room as soon as he’d arrived tonight.
Now, sipping his beer, Gervais tried like hell to get his head focused back on work. The team.
Dempsey took an exaggerated sip from his glass and set it on the table in front of them. Cocking his head to the side, he settled deeper in the red leather club chair and asked, “What’s the deal with the princess’s arrival? She damn near caused Freight Train to trip over his feet like a first-day rookie.”
“She came by to see me.” Gervais tried to make it sound casual. Breezy.
“Because New Orleans happens to be right around the corner from Europe?”
“Your humor slays me.” He tipped back his beer. Dempsey was a lot of things, but indirect? Never.
“Well, she obviously came to see you. And from what I’m starting to hear now from the gossip already churning, the two of you spent a great deal of time together in the UK. Are you two back together again? Dating?” A small smile, but his eyes were trained on Gervais. A Reynaud trait—dogged persistence.
“Not exactly dating.”
“Then why is she here?” He leaned forward, picking up his glass. “And don’t tell me it’s none of my business, because she’s distracting you.”
He wanted to argue the point. But who the hell would he be kidding?
Instead, he dropped his voice. “This goes no further than the two of us for now.”
“I’m offended you have to ask that.”
“Right. Well, she’s pregnant. It’s mine.”
“You’re certain?” Dempsey set his glass on the marble side table, face darkening like a storm rolling out.
Gervais stared him down. Not in the mood for that runaround.
“All right. Your child. What next?”
“My child, my responsibility.” He would be there for his child. That was nonnegotiable.
“Interesting choice of words. Responsibility.” Something shifted in Dempsey’s expression. But Gervais didn’t have to wonder why. Dempsey was Gervais’s illegitimate half brother. Dempsey hadn’t even been in the picture until he turned thirteen years old, when Yvette, Dempsey’s mom, had angled to extort money from their father, Theo, at which point Theo brought Dempsey to the family home.
To say the blending had been rough was generous. It was something that felt like the domestic equivalent of World War Three. Gervais’s mother left. Then it was just a houseful of men—his brothers, Theo and Gramps. And it was really Gramps who had taken care of the boys. Theo was too busy shucking responsibilities.
“I’m sure as hell not walking away.” He’d seen too well the marks it left on Dempsey not knowing his father in the early years, the sting of growing up thinking his father didn’t care. Hell, their father hadn’t even known Dempsey existed.
Not that it excused their father, since he’d misled Dempsey’s mother.
“I’m just saying that I understand what it feels like to be an inconvenient mistake. A responsibility.” His jaw flexed, gaze fixed over Gervais’s head.
“Dad loves you. We all do. You’re part of our family.”
“I know. But that wasn’t always the case.”
“We didn’t know you then.”
“He did. Or at least he knew that he’d been with women without considering the consequences.” Dempsey’s eyes darkened a shade, protectiveness for his mother obvious, even though the woman had been a negligible caregiver at best. “Anyhow, it took us all a long time to come back from that tough start. So make sure you get your head on straight before this baby’s born. Better yet, get things right before you alienate the child’s mother. Because if you intend to be in the kid’s life, you’re not going to want to spend years backtracking from screwing up with words like responsibility at the start.”
The outburst was swift and damning. Dempsey shot up and out of his seat. He began to storm away, heading for the door.
Gervais followed.
“Dempsey—wait, I...” But the words fell silent as he nearly plowed into his brother’s back.
Dempsey had halted in his tracks, his gaze on the staircase in the corridor. Or, more accurate, his gaze on the woman now standing on the staircase.
Erika. In nothing but his jersey that barely reached midthigh. And she looked every bit as tantalizing as she had in her dress.
Gervais’s eyes traced up, taking in her toned calves, the slope of her waist. The way her breasts pushed on the fabric. That wild hair of hers... She was well covered, but he couldn’t help feeling the possessive need to wrap a blanket around her to shield her from his brother’s gaze.
“I heard noise and realized there was someone wandering around.” She drifted down a step, gesturing toward a shadowed corner of the hallway outside the den, where Gervais’s grandfather stood. “I believe this is your grandfather?”
Gramps must have been wandering around again. Leon Reynaud was getting more restless with the years, and forgetful, too. But it was Erika who concerned him most right now. Her face was emotionless, yet there was a trace of unease in her voice. Had she overheard something in their conversation in the den?
Gramps Leon shook a gnarled finger at them. “Somebody’s having a baby?” He shook his head. “Your father never could keep his pants zipped.”
A wave of guilt crashed against him. For years he had tried to avoid any comparisons between himself and his father. Purposely setting himself on a very different path.
His father had been largely absent throughout his childhood and teen years. Theo Reynaud was a woman chaser. Neglectful of his duties to his children, his wife and the family’s business.
Gervais would make damn sure he’d do better for his child. Even if Erika wasn’t on board. Yet. He’d be an active presence in his future child’s life. Everything his father failed to be.
Dempsey moved toward their grandfather, face slightly flushed. He stood and clapped Leon on the shoulder. “Dad’s not expecting another child, Grandpère.”
“Oh.” Leon scratched his sparse hair that was standing up on end. “I get confused sometimes. I must have misunderstood.”
Dempsey looked back at Gervais, expression mirroring the same relief Gervais felt. Crisis avoided.
His brother steered Gramps toward the door. “I’ll walk with you to your room, Gramps.” He gave Erika a nod as they passed her, though his focus remained on Leon. “I programmed some new music into your sound system. Some of those old Cajun tunes you like.”
“Thank