I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
She reaches for her bag and lifts it off the bed before taking a seat beside me and picking at her cuticles. “I booked an appointment with that grief counselor next week.”
I manage a smile. “That’s great. Do you want me to come with you?”
Mila considers it for a moment but shakes her head. “I think I need to do this one alone. But thank you.”
I shift on the bed so I can wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. But we can go back to having our lunches at the deli and our wine and gossip nights?—”
I pull back. “What?”
“We can’t have wine nights.” She glances down at my stomach.
“Well, you can drink enough for the two of us.” But the mention of my pregnancy has my stomach twisting once again.
Mila touches my arm. “Maybe with me gone, you’ll finally grow a pair and tell Ronan about the baby.”
I exhale as I run my fingers through my damp hair. “I’ll tell him.”
“When?” Mila gives me her signature look, which has most men running for the hills.
I cower under the weight of her gaze. “Soon.”
“Soon better mean this week because the longer you wait, the worse you’ll feel.”
“I know.”
“Just think about all the exciting things to come. The baby shower, decorating the nursery, all the tiny clothes.”
I can’t help but smile, but not because of everything Mila is saying, but from the look in her eyes as she says it.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her eyes light up since Max died, and it’s almost enough to bring me to tears.
Perhaps this baby is a blessing in disguise, not just for me and Ronan, but for Mila too.
“And you’ll be the favorite aunt, considering the amount of testosterone in this family.”
Mila chuckles. “This poor kid. They’ll take one look at the Sullivan clan and try to climb back inside the womb.”
I throw my head back and laugh for the first time in almost two weeks.
Mila smiles, and for a moment, it’s like our grief simply vanishes.
“Anyway, Ronan will likely freak out because all men do, so expect that and give him a break. It took you this long to come clean to him, so he deserves some slack too. Though I think his freak-out will be in a good way.”
“You really think so?”
“Ronan cares about you, Ciara, more than you think. I see the way he looks at you… That man is smitten.”
My cheeks warm at her words. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
“Oh, I’m always right.”
I help Mila finish packing up the last of her things, and we carry the bags downstairs to where Cormac and Ronan are waiting in the foyer, looking like a pair of bouncers outside a nightclub.
Both of them are dressed in black shirts and slacks that hug their muscular physiques. Though Cormac is slightly leaner, Ronan’s shirt looks like it’s fit to bursting as it clings to his biceps.
