I still, start thinking back. “About three months before you began your first project with him. So you’re saying…” But I trail off because I don’tknowwhat he’s saying. The connection is Jean-Michel or Jace or none of us and we have no clue what the fuck is really going on?
“I’m saying there’s more here than we understand. And Thorn isn’t immune either, his company was the victim of corporate espionage a few months back and some investors have been trying to take over the board.” He shakes his head. “Me. You. Thorn. Jean-Michel. We’ve all dealt with attacks on our companies—though you and Jean-Michel are the only ones whose attacks were personal. I don’t know if it’s because Thornand I didn’t have anyone important in our lives when we were targeted or if it’s deeper than that. I just know my instincts are screaming thatallof this shit is connected.”
I open my mouth to reply—toagree—but I don’t get the chance to.
Because Pascal is suddenly in front of me.
“We need to talk.”
THIRTY-TWO
BRIAR
Chrissy hasher baby in one arm, a kitten in the other.
It’s beautiful and she catches me watching her.
“You want to hold her?”
“Sure.”
But when I reach for the kitten, she shakes her head with a smile and shifts her sleeping daughter out of her arms.
“Are you sure—” I don’t get to finish the question because Mia is suddenly in my lap, her head cradled in the crease of my elbow and…
I’m in love.
The soft weight of her tiny body in my arms. The scent of baby filling my senses. The way her nose crinkles as though she knows, even in sleep, that I’m not her mama.
“She is absolutely gorgeous,” I say quietly, gently stroking a finger down her button nose.
“Mother’s bias”—Chrissy grins—“but I happen to agree with you.”
And the guilt ramps again.
Here Chrissy is with kittens—and yes, I know that I’m helping out by having agreed—sort of—to watch the fluffy babies, but I also have the feeling that she only offered because she knew I needed to do something that wasn’t just sitting in this apartment, worrying about what my future might look like. So, kittens and arranging for dinner and being so kind and inclusive.Allof them have been making sure I’m included in the conversation.
And now she’s trusting me to hold her baby.
Dammit, I’m an asshole.
“Chrissy,” I begin.
“Uh-oh,” Rory says.
I close my eyes, exhale. “I need?—”
“I know.” She reaches forward and squeezes my hand. “I remember you from the night of the fundraiser—or your eyes, anyway.”
“They really are striking,” Rory agrees. “And that hair of yours is uniquely beautiful, though the ends aretragic.”
“Rory!”
Marie types on her phone from beside me. “You know you have no hope of corralling that mouth of hers, so why do you even try?”
Chrissy scowls. “Because at some point I hope to slap some manners into her.”
“That might require an actualslap,”Marie points out.
