“You bastard,” I said in jest.
He laughed as he walked closer, bending down to brush his lips across mine. “You’re so beautiful.”
I shoved him as hard as I had the strength to do. “You’re a terrible liar like Amelia.”
“I heard that,” she called.
Noise meant the office was buzzing. I was drowning in both work and humidity, panting like some freaking dog.
“The quarterly numbers are in, my precious wildcat. The profits are exactly on target.” Since Christian had joined the firm, we were the hot commodity, everyone from Richmond to Miami talking about us. All because of Christian’s name and my work ethic. I grinned from the thought.
“Great. Wonderful. What about my ice cream?”
“Did you see the cover ofFortune?” Amelia was right there, her happy smile making me snarl. She held out a copy, whichhad four bright shining faces on it with me in the front in a chair. At least the photographer had mostly hidden my wretched condition.
“Fabulous. Get it away from me.”
Christian sat down, eyeing me with his usual amusement. “Just a few more days, baby girl.”
“Can’t freaking come soon enough.”
The door opened again as if we were a train station and Donovan bounded inside, his sidekick and now best friend, Carson following behind. They were a strange match, but did everything together both in and outside of work. Plus, they were so damn talented we couldn’t handle the business they brought in.
“You won’t believe it,” Donovan said. He was happier than usual.
Why did I hate anyone who was happy? And comfortable? Because I was miserable.
“What?” Christian asked, but with the gleam in his eyes, I could tell he already knew.
“Elliot Enterprises signed on the dotted line. We are handling every bit of the huge marketing campaign for the new Barchella resort.”
My brother had used his marketing skills in ways I didn’t think were possible. With Carson handling sales, we were quite the team.
A family organization of mixed mutts.
But I loved each and every one of them.
“That’s amazing,” Christian said, watching me closely.
“Not bad,” I countered, but unable to keep a smile from my face. “This calls for champagne for me and sparkling cider for everyone else. I am the CEO.”
“Oh, no,” Christian countered. “You are not having any liquor.”
I glared at him. “This baby is so fucking huge, I think he or she can handle a fucking glass of champagne. Make it happen.”
“Yes, ma’am!” My brother sprang into action. The celebration was long overdue.
He was clean and sober, happier than he’d ever been. He’d gained thirty pounds of muscles and all the girls hit on him. Including Amelia. My brother was the sweet, amazing man I remembered. Strong and resilient. Just like Christian.
My husband.
The father of the goddamn baby that needed to leave my body.
And I couldn’t wait to hold the munchkin in my arms.
While there was a flurry of activity, something happened.
“Oh, God, no,” I moaned. “Not now. Yes, now. What am I saying?”
