Chapter Nine
Balancingtwo string-tied bakery boxes and a tray of iced coffees in one hand, I made my way into Will and Shannon's house and called out, "Halsteds! I brought breakfast."
Following the noise, I headed toward the kitchen. Shannon was rinsing a bowl of blueberries while Abby drummed her spoon against the tray attached to her seat. I knew nothing about kids.Nothing. But this one was pretty damn cute.
"Did you say something about breakfast?" Shannon asked, eyeing the boxes.
"Muffins, croissants, sticky buns," I said, pulling open the lids to reveal the pastries. "I don't remember what those two were called, but they look good."
Shannon set the blueberries in front of Abby. "Looking goodis a fine criteria," she said. "Sit down, Jordan. I'll get some plates, and we'll have a tasting menu. You know, my sister-in-law would love this."
"Goddammit, Shannon," Will said from the patio door. "He can get his own plates. I toldyouto sit down."
"I'm barely pregnant," she replied. "You have another three or four months before you're allowed to go all commando on me."
"There is nobarelypregnant. You're fully pregnant, and you need to get off your feet." He watched while she collected plates and utensils, and set them on the table. "Indulge me, peanut," he said, gesturing to the whitewashed chairs. "Sit. Eat."
"Only because I want a croissant," she murmured, plucking the pastries from the boxes and arranging them on plates. She glanced at me. "Are these from Seaside?"
"They are," I replied. I reached for a blueberry muffin and tore the top off. That was the best part.
"And what led us to an early morning bakery run?" Shannon asked. She was wearing a bright, knowing grin as she cut the cinnamon knots into even quarters. "Or are we just coming home now? Did the book club run late?"
I shoved half the muffin top in my mouth and offered a small piece to Abby. She pounded it under her spoon.
"This is Kaisall's version of evasion," Will called from behind the refrigerator door. He filled a small cup with milk and set it on Abby's tray. She smiled up at him, and crammed some blueberries into her mouth in a strange expression of gratitude. "It's one of the many reasons we don't let him do any of the actual spy work."
"Fuck you," I mouthed to my partner. I swung my gaze to Shannon. "I stopped by the bakery after leaving April's apartment."
"She has a name and it's April," Shannon said, her tone full of wonder. "Are there any other details you'd like to share with us? What does she do, where is she from—"
"Why is she giving you the time of day?" Will added.
I flipped him off over Abby's head. "She's a cake decorator. At the bakery. And she's an acupuncturist. She also does massage, and, uh—"
What was that other thing?
"Only you would rebound to a Hamptons hipster from a pharmaceutical industry lobbyist, Kaisall," Will said, and at the same moment, Shannon said, "A cake decorating acupuncturist? That's a new one for me."
"She is not a rebound," I argued.
My tone was sharp, as was the glare I shot my business partner. We gave each other a lot of shit and busted a lot of balls. It was in our nature, maybe even our DNA, but I wasn't open to any ball-busting where it involved April. Not yet.
He held up his hands, surrendering.
"She sounds delightful," Shannon said.
"So," Will started, "you're seeing her again?"
I took another bite of the muffin and pried the beverages from the cardboard carrying tray while I chewed. Cold, strong coffee chased the pastry as I formulated my response. "Yes," I said finally. "While I'm here, yes."
Shannon pointed to one of the remaining iced coffees, and I passed it to her. "Invite her over," she said. "We'd love to meet her."
Will grabbed a chocolate muffin and murmured in agreement. "Yeah, you two should come by tonight," he said. "Unless you already have plans."
I absolutely had plans for tonight, and none of them included a family dinner or Halsted-led interrogation of my—um—whatwasApril? I was nearly forty years old and fully opposed to the termgirlfriendas it applied to April, but it wasn't as though the alternatives were any better.
Lover? No, none of that.
