“Yes, but our friends don’t run criminal enterprises.”
Reaching over, Jacob threaded his fingers with Cordelia’s and squeezed. “Daddy. Do you trust me?”
At the use of her title, Cordelia visibly softened. “Of course I do, baby.”
“Then can you trust that I would come to you if Killian or anyone else tried to get me involved in something criminal?”
The fearsome blonde sighed. “Yes. Of course, yes. I know you’d tell me if that happened. I’m just feeling overprotective for some reason.”
“Because you’re exhausted and none of us has had a good night’s sleep in a week,” Ivy said. “We should head home soon, change into some comfy pajamas, and spend the entire day on the couch watching Christmas movies.”
“That sounds lovely, blossom.” Shifting her attention up to Killian, Cordelia smiled. “You should sit, eat something. The muffins don’t quite live up to Holden’s, but they’re decent and the mini quiches are delicious.”
It was an olive branch, and because he did value his friendships as much as he’d told Jacob he did, he took it. “I think I’ll do that. Let me go grab a plate.”
He was halfway to the buffet when a soft, throaty voice called his name. Pausing, he turned, and nearly swore out loud when he spotted Portia Williams standing just behind him, curiosity in her startling blue eyes and a smirk on her lips.
Fucking hell. In all the chaos with the Russians and then finding out he’d spent the evening with his best friend’s daughter, he’d completely forgotten that one of the bride’s closest friends was Richard Williams’s only child.
And Killian’s fiancée.
Chapter Fourteen
Aria
Pregnant.
There was no misreading this one. The first three tests, she’d convinced herself that maybe that second pink line wasn’t as dark as it looked. But the stick in her hand was crystal clear, that single, life-changing word in stark black and white on the digital readout.
She was going to be sick. Or rather, she might have if she hadn’t already lost the meager contents of her stomach first thing that morning. And still, the nausea rolled through her, forcing her to close her eyes and grit her teeth until the worst of it passed.
What the hell was she going to do? Her mom was going to lose her entire mind when she found out. Getting knocked up before she was thirty and established in her career was, as far as Aria’s mother was concerned, the worst possible sin a woman could commit.
So talking to her was out, at least for now.
Her dad would understand. Maybe.
Until he started asking questions. Very uncomfortable questions with very uncomfortable answers she wasn’t quite ready to give.
Fuck.
Lottie. Lottie was like, parent-adjacent, and she would understand. She’d also understand if Aria said she wasn’t ready to discuss the Who, What, When, Where, and How of the situation.
Okay. First point of order, talk to Lottie. Figure out what the fuck she was going to do.
And then she could go about the messy business of disappointing both of her parents at the same time.
Easy-peasy.
Fighting back another wave of nausea, she forced herself into the shower, which helped her at least feel somewhat human again. Dressed in a pair of comfortable leggings—a concession to her swollen, bloated stomach, one of the many symptoms she’d been trying very hard to ignore for the past month—and a baggy sweatshirt with her school’s logo emblazoned on the front, she headed for Lottie and Braden’s house.
And tried not to give into the panic brewing in her chest the whole way there.
Some benevolent god must have been watching over her, because Lottie was home alone when she arrived. Still looking gorgeously tan and glowing from her honeymoon, even though they’d been home for two whole months, leaving Aria to wonder if she’d been sneaking off to a tanning bed somewhere even though her husband had expressly forbidden it. If Braden caught her, would he?—
Nope. Still weird to think about them having that kind of relationship.
“Aria!” Happiness lit Lottie’s face as she rose from the couch where she’d been curled up with a book when Aria found her in the living room. “I didn’t know you were coming over today. I’m afraid you’ve missed your dad. But I could call him if you like, he’s just having breakfast with… a friend.”
