Page 19 of Titus

“No,” I cut her off gently. “We’ll figure everything else out later.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I messed up,” she finally said.

I softened, brushing her tear away with my thumb.

“We all do.” I smiled into her watery eyes.

She shook her head. “Not like that.”

That was when I realized this wasn’t a minor issue. It wasn’t something that would just pass by. This was the kind of problem that could change things or alter lives.

I took a slow breath. “Okay,” I said, steady now. “Then we will handle it. Together,” I informed her.

Because that’s what I did. I fixed things. I controlled what I could, and I protected the people who mattered. No matter what it might cost me.

“Let me get you some water,” I said, knowing booze was only going to pile on more tears and make it harder for me to get answers. I nodded toward my living area. “Have a seat on the sofa.”

“I’m pregnant,” she choked out through sobs, burying her face in her hands.

I stopped and turned back to catch her before she collapsed against the wall. I gently helped guide her to my sofa and sat with her, waiting for the tears to stop.

She sniffed a couple of times and let out an aching moan, her energy fading with God knows what she’d been through up until she had the courage to come to my place for help.

“Does Mom know?” I questioned, knowing neither one of us really had a great relationship with the woman.

“No, I haven’t talked to her.

Amelia might have been my half-sister, but I’d never considered her anything less than a full-blooded sister. My father left before I was born, and when Amelia’s father died while she was still a baby, I naturally stepped in to look after her. Someone had to. God knew our mother's priority had always been the wealthy Spanish family she cooked for—not her daughters.

After Amelia graduated from high school, she joined me in the United States, moving to Southern California to live with me. She was twenty now—twelve years younger than me—and stayed only a couple of months before heading off to UC Davis to study veterinary medicine.

That’s where she met her boyfriend, Gabe, and standing here now, I had a feeling the child was his. Or worse… that it wasn’t.

The last time I saw them, they’d seemed happy and comfortable in the small apartment they shared. He was pre-med, and somewhere between late nights studying for their biology courses, they’d formed a bond and fell for each other. He seemed like a great guy, which meant if the baby was his, there was no way Amelia would be standing in my home looking broken.

“Okay, I need to know, who is the father?” I finally asked after she’d fully pulled herself together.

“Gabe,” she said through more tears.

I frowned. “Where is Gabe?” I questioned with more curiosity and some irritation about the answer I felt she was about to give me.

“Let’s just say I’m not the only woman pregnant with his child right now,” she said as I reached for tissues and handed her one.

I had to remain calm and keep my composure. “How do you know this?”

“Because he told me,” she said as if I should’ve already known the answer. “He said he was choosing Marianne, and that I would have to just figure this out.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I said as calmly as I could, feeling the heat of anger flooding my face. “We’re definitely going to figure this out, and child support is not going to be fun for him and the woman he chose while they’re paying off his student loans and raising their child.”

“Her family is wealthy,” she said. “They own some bank franchise or something,” she rolled her eyes. “Most likely why she was the top pick.”

Okay, she’s hurt. Rejected. Pregnant with her boyfriend’s child, and he refuses to step up and take responsibility. That’s the only reason my intelligent sister would be talking about her cheating bastard of an ex like she was mad that she wasn’t his first choice—like she was somehow second to the other woman he knocked up.

Fucking men. Some of these dipshits had the maturity level of a jellyfish.

“Well, thank God for that,” I said, rubbing her back. “Because it seems clear that staying with him would’ve only meant more problems down the line.” I exhaled, already shifting into logistics. “You’ll stay here with me—but what about school?”

“I talked with my professors, and they’re letting me finish my classes online,” she said, looking at me.