The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

she didn’tdoubt it for a minute. There was no way the Ashton family would be able to bury this one. Sooner or later, the news would leak and then the papers would be all over all of them.
    Despite what her mother had tried to do.
    “Oh, God.” Megan stopped, rubbed her temples in a pitiful attempt to erase the headache that had been pounding behind her eyes all afternoon. But it wouldn’t go away. Just as the memory of her own mother’s callous cruelty wouldn’t fade.
    “Megan?”
    She whirled around at the sound of Simon’s voice. While she watched him, he stepped into the house, dropped his leather briefcase and walked toward her. “What’s wrong?”
    “Well,” she muttered thickly, “guess I don’t have much of a poker face, do I?”
    “Not so much,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting, then falling again before it could become a real smile. “Tell me.”
    Here it was. She’d been waiting for him for what felt like forever and now that the time to talk to him was here, Megan felt her throat close up. She fought past it. “I don’t even know where to start.”
    Taking her hand, he pulled her into the living room, off the foyer. The big room was dark and as he entered, he hit the light switch and puddles of golden lamplight spread across the room, chasing the shadows. Big overstuffed couches sat across fromeach other, with a wide oak coffee table between them. A cobalt-blue vase held a double bunch of white carnations and daisies that Megan had brought home only the day before. And somehow, looking at the simple cheerfulness of that bouquet made Megan feel even worse.
    She pulled her hand free of Simon’s and started pacing again. Somehow, she had to keep moving. As if trying to keep up with her racing mind—which, she told herself, was simply impossible.
    “What the hell’s going on, Megan?”
    “Scandal for one,” she blurted, unable to think of a gentle way of putting it.
    “What—”
    “I’m getting to it,” she said and realized that now she was interrupting him. They’d come a long way. Shaking her head, she continued in a rush, “A woman came to the estate today. Her name’s Anna Sheridan.”
    “And…?”
    “And,” Megan repeated, still stalling. Stupid. Just say it. “She came to talk to my mother. About her nephew.”
    Simon frowned. “Your mother’s nephew?”
    “No, Anna’s.”
    “Anna has a nephew.”
    “I just said that,” she snapped, then held up one hand. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just that I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon and dreading telling you and at the same time wanting to tell you to, you know,get it out of the way, and now that you’re here, I’m talking all around it and not saying a damn thing, which is really stupid, but I can’t seem to stop and oh God, I need to draw a breath.” She stopped, slapped one hand to her chest and felt the furious beating of her heart. Dragging one breath after another into her lungs, she locked her gaze with his as he came closer.
    “Megan, what the hell is wrong?” Simon grabbed her shoulders the minute he was close enough and she felt the warmth of his hands right down to the bottom of what felt like a very cold soul.
    She drew on that heat and held it close as she nodded. “I’m getting to it. Just not very efficiently. Okay, Anna Sheridan’s nephew. Jack. A baby, really. Not even two yet. She had a picture. Cute little guy. Red hair. Green eyes. Great smile.”
    His lips twitched. “And you hate kids? The picture brought out a long-buried childhood trauma?”
    He was joking. He was being nice. Damn it.
    “No. No, it’s nothing like that.” She looked up at him so she could watch his eyes. “Little Jack is my half brother.”
    “What?”
    “My father —” and she said the word with a bitterness that had been filling her mouth all afternoon “—had an affair. Probably should say another affair to be accurate. Though to be absolutely accurate,” she muttered, “you’d probably need a scorecard. Anyway,he had an affair with Anna’s sister Alyssa. Alyssa died after giving birth and Anna’s been raising Jack—my father’s son.”
    “Whoa.”
    “That about sums it up.” Megan stepped away from him and swept one hand through her hair as she turned to stare out the front windows at the darkness beyond the glass. Instead, she saw her own reflection—and Simon’s, standing right behind her. God. Was he wishing he’d married anyone but her? Probably. And who could blame