Emily Gastright: Of course! Will be lovely to see her.
Tippi Mills: I’m in Spain right now, but I’d love to contribute something - can you let them both know my gift is pending?
Emily Gastright: Sure [smiling emoji]
Liaden O’Brien: What about if we hire masseurs to come to the shower?
Eli Gastright: Can pregnant women have massages? I thought they were a no-no.
Liaden O’Brien: As long as they’re done a certain way, they’re a yes-yes.
Dean Gastright: Then I’d say hell yes, anything that helps her decompress.
Tim Stewart: I can ask Jacob if he wants to come, but don’t be offended if he doesn’t. I know his job is pretty intense right now.
Eli Gastright: Totally fine.
Eli Gastright: This was a good idea, Em.
Liaden O’Brien: Seconded. I’ll look into the masseurs if you find mocktail recipes.
Emily Gastright: I’ll also clue Leo in on this. Probably best to hold it at his and Sadie’s.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. I know it’s not about what makesmefeel better, but now that we have a plan, I feel more confident that everything will smooth out a little easier, and I can focus on the rest of my day.
And on the mocktails recipes I’m Googling.
Ooh, virgin Cosmopolitans…
Leo
The gang wentnuts with catering. Dean ordered pink iced cupcakes, enough for at least two per guest. Eli dropped off a slow cooker full of his epic chicken meatballs in a Cajun cream sauce that fills the room with the most mouth watering, stomach rumbling, oh-my-god-give-it-to-me-now smell. Em and Liaden bought snacks like hungry kids left to run wild in a petrol station shop, and there’s a genuinely ludicrous amount of crisps and pretzels and chocolates in all the serving bowls I have, and a couple of theirs, too. Gary is eyeing the peanuts longingly from my shoulder, where he’s been for the past ten minutes - progress - and I give him a couple to ingratiate myself to him even more. Even Tippi took part in the spread all the way from Spain, sending an order of doughnuts the size of my head from a local artisanal bakery, all filled to puffiness with various fruity jams and creams. There’s even a pineapple and coconut one, which Sadie has claimed and set aside, because tropical flavours are everything to her right now.
The gang came through for us, big time.
It was a relief to have something positive to focus on. Sadie’s been smothering her rage so that she doesn’t upset the little muchacho inside her, but I know she’s seething. And driving herself nuts racking her brains trying to figure out how this happened, given that she doesn’t use cash machines and hasn’t lost her passport or driver’s licence. I’ve done my best to console her and distract her in any way I can, but she’s rattled. Even though the ‘bank’, using that term lightly, returned all her money pending the investigation; she’s not going to feel settled until she knows who did this.
She hasn’t been up for anything in the sack for the past two evenings, either. It’s the first time since she moved in with me that we’ve skipped it, and given how horny her hormones have made her once her first trimester ended (hallelujah, praise all of the gods), it’s a big indication of how down she is. Secretly, I’ve still just enjoyed holding her, stroking her hair and whispering comforting nonsense to her until she falls asleep. I only wish it was done under better circumstances than ‘I’m comforting you because you’ve been cleaned out and put into debt by some asshole’.
My money is at her disposal, whatever the outcome. She loses her money, I’ll replace it and then some, in an account run by a more security conscious bank. If she wants to sue, I’ll bankroll it. I’ve paused my idle search for new business premises for an idea I’ve had, only until this is all sorted out. Maybe this new side project I’m thinking of will be something she’ll be interested in getting involved with once everything is settled. Something rewarding to bring her back to her focused, optimistic self.
But she’s smiling now at the sight of all these snacks, and that’s just made my day all by itself.
“Lookin’ good, Stewart,” I say to her from the doorway of my dining room.
She looks up and smiles wryly. “Me, or all of this food?”
“You, of course. You know the only thing I’m interested in eating is your pussy,” I say, strolling over. Gary, sensing impending flirting, sensibly flies to the top of a chair. I grab a peanut M&M and toss it into the air, catching it in my mouth before kissing the side of her neck. Inching my fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans at the back, I give her arse a good squeeze, growling happily. “God damn, woman, your butt is just thebest…” And it really is. “The kind of juicy ass a man like me would do anything for…”
She giggles, slapping my hands away. “Shut up. It’s huge.”
“It’sfiiiiiine,” I insist. “It’s damn fine. It’s the badonkadonk of agoddess.” I run my tongue over the whorl of her ear in the way I know drives her crazy, and she squirms right on cue. Her hand travels teasingly to my crotch, which is tenting like a motherfucker as she runs her index finger slowly over my length, making my heart skip a beat…
And then the doorbell rings.
“Damnit,” we say in unison, and then laugh.
“Just so you know,” she says as she walks towards the door, “it’sontonight, Mills.” And, leaving me hot and hard in the dust, she flings the door open, brightly greeting the first guests.
