I had planned to tell Gideon the news that next night over dinner at La Roux, a five star restaurant he himself owned. It's better, I figure as we step through the beautiful wide French doors, to do this in a semi-public place. Once we took our seats, I politely declined the offer of champagne they presented and listened half-heatedly as Gideon recalled his day.

"Eva," He sat down his silverware roughly, his eyes scanning my face cooly. "What the fuck is your problem?"

In the background, Light On by David Cook blared quietly. I pushed my food forward, signaling I was done.

"I'm not so sure how to say." I admit, hating myself for how unceremonious this all sounds. Wasn't this supposed to be cutesy and lovey? What the hell am I doing?

"Just spit it out." He demands, leaning back in his chair and propping an elbow on the right arm.

"It's not that easy, you know." I snap, my natural temper automatically rising.

Can I blame that on hormones now?

"Sure, it is." He replies, cocking an eyebrow upwards.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!" I huff, chucking my napkin at him. He scoffs a comeback under his breath, grinning as he catches it easily in his palm. I close my eyes, my mood suddenly deflating as I drop my shoulders with an exhale of breath.

"This is impossible." I muse quietly, my fingers skimming over the soft fabric of my dress. Gideon's hand suddenly appears in my vision, palm stretched upwards. Tentatively, I place my hand in his and glance up at his face.

Warm blue eyes met my gaze, a soft smile etching across his rugged features. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

I'm so surprised, I jerk my hand back and stumble out of my seat. My glass of water tips over the edge of the table, the glass crashing to the ground with a earsplitting shatter that silences the whole restaurant. I immediately bend down to try and salvage some of the glass and defuse the embarrassing situation.

Oh, god.

"Eva!" Gideon exclaims, jumping out of his seat and grabbing my biceps, pulling me off the ground. He holds me at a arms distance, jerk his head back and forth to the waiters scrambling over.

"I'm sorry!" I blink, not understanding my feelings at all. "I just.. You shocked me and I don't know, I guess I tripped-"

"Eva, damn it. Calm the fuck down." Gideon growls, low in my face. Suddenly he straightens, glancing around at the curious eyes observing the scene. "We can't do this here. Let's go home."

I nod my head mutely, still attempting to wrap my head around the situation as he holds my hand and dodges out of the restaurant. Angus waits for us out front, and we slide into the car.

What the hell does he do? I ponder as Gideon tells Angus instructions. Pumble through trash cans after a long day of work?

Gideon leans back, letting out a huge shot of breath as he faces the front.

"We need to talk." He says, his tone light, despite his obvious body language. "And, at home, we will."