She shrugs. “Fantasies are just that. They don’t require research. It’s like hitting the lottery. You make big plans, but no one actually wins. If I won the lottery, though, I would buy the shares and then do the research. It’s that kind of dream.”
I reach for my phone but remember it’s in my pants on the floor by the door. “Where’s your phone?”
She rolls off me, and I immediately miss her heat and the weight of her at my side. She extends the phone to me, and I open it to begin searching.
“How did you know my code?”
I give her a look that says she must be kidding me.
“No seriously. How did you know?”
“Which do you want to know… that or the current stock price?”
“I can google the current stock price.”
I flip the phone her way and show her the screen I already have pulled up.
“That’s cheap. I expected… Okay, I have no idea if that’s cheap or not and I don’t have any concept of stock prices. I’m no broker. I have no desire to be. Graham crackers—now that I think about it, I think I have stock options as part of my pay. Hmmm. How long would it take me to have enough?”
I just smile. The woman uses graham crackers as an expletive while planning a not-exactly hostile takeover over of a company.
“Are you laughing at me?” Her black hair curtains her face as she looks down at me.
“I’m”—I pause staring at her face, realizing I’ve been okay or fine, even content for a long time—“happy.” And I am. There’s a bubble that wants to explode from my chest that’s pure joy.
And I owe it to the woman next to me.
Lorien
Corinne moves around the kitchen with efficiency and a no-nonsense manner. She’s the woman who prepared breakfast for everyone and she’s making a dinner that has my mouth watering.
Liam stuck close to my side when we came downstairs. There was no doubt what we’d been doing or for how long. I could feel the heat flaming from my cheeks each time Sariah or Ayla looked my way. They’d smirk or wink, and the embarrassment would roll from somewhere near my belly button creeping its way to my hairline.
He was otherwise engaged when Sariah mouthedlaterto me and gave me a knowing smile.
Apparently, it’slaternow because Liam is off with Christian and I’m surrounded by my sisters-in-law. And a woman named Annika. She’s Ren’s wife—the man who was drinking espresso on the sofa this morning.
He and Christian are half-brothers. So she’s my sister-in-law’s sister-in-law, if my genealogy is correct. She’s smuggling a bowling ball under her tee. Her attention is split between supporting the weight there and staring at the babies that move arm to arm, lap to lap around the family.
“How much longer do you have?”
“Two weeks if she comes on time. She better come on time. Morning sickness has been”—she looks to her wrist as if there were a watch there—“roughly thirty-eight weeks now. I’d take natural childbirth just to stop vomiting.”
“Watch those words. Natural is no joke.” Sariah shakes her head.
“You had Wills naturally?” I ask.
“Of course not. They make drugs. Drugs are good. Drugs are necessary. Don’t skip the drugs. Yay drugs.”
Ayla cuts in, nodding to me. “Exactly what the pharmaceutical girl loves to hear, right?”
“I’m a researcher. I don’t think that counts.”
“You know what I mean,” Ayla replies.
“Speaking of know what I mean,” Sariah takes a segue that isn’t there at all. “You and Liam look… comfy.” She lifts her eyebrows to her hairline.
Ayla looks between the two of us, while Annika studies us.
