Page 147 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

“Sealed,” Honor declared. “Sacred sister law. If Mama finds out, it wasn’t us.”

“It better not be y’all,” I said.

“How is she, anyway?” I asked, because I actually wanted to know, and because it felt good to talk about something that didn’t require a promise first. “Mama.”

Saroya’s smile faded into something softer. “She’s been worried about you. Like, actually worried. Calling me every other day, asking if I’ve heard from you, if you’re eating right, if that man—” she gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, toward the sound of the shower, “—is treating you decent.”

“I’m going to go see her later today,” I said. “I should’ve gone sooner.”

“She’ll be happy to hear that.” Saroya reached over and squeezed my hand. “She just misses you. All this stuff with the house, the pregnancy, whatever’s going on with these Landry men—she feels like she’s on the outside of it.”

“I know.” Guilt sat heavy in my chest for a second. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“Good.” Honor clapped her hands together like she was closing a business meeting. “Now, while we wait for Fabio to finish his shower, can somebody tell me why there’s no coffee made in this house? What kind of hospitality is this?”

“I have a Keurig,” I said, already moving toward it.

“A Keurig.” Honor said it like I’d confessed to a crime. “In this economy?”

“It’s fast,” I said.

“It’s sad,” Raven corrected, but she was laughing, and Saroya was already pulling mugs down like she knew exactly where everything was, which she did, because she’d helped me unpack this kitchen two weeks ago.

We fell into easy chatter after that—Saroya complaining about a coworker who kept microwaving fish in the break room, Honor threatening to kick Terrance out again, Raven going on about a new client at the shop who showed up with her hair matted to her head. Normal. Easy. The kind of noise that made a house feel like a home instead of just walls and furniture.

I heard his footsteps on the stairs before I saw him.

Amai came down in a charcoal suit that fit him the way suits only fit men who had them made instead of bought them off a rack. The jacket lay perfect across his shoulders, his tie a deep navy that made his skin look even richer against it. He moved like the suit weighed nothing, like he could take off running in it, and it wouldn’t wrinkle.

“Daaaamn,” all three of my sisters said in unison, at the exact same beat, like they’d rehearsed it.

I dropped my head into my hand. “Oh, my God.”

“What?” Amai asked, coming to stand beside me, completely unbothered, like this was just a normal Tuesday reaction to him existing.

“Nothing,” I muttered.

He kissed me again—shorter this time, but no less deliberate—and pulled back just enough to look at me. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious, Truth.”

“I heard you the first time,” I said, but I let myself soften into it for a second, let my hand rest against his chest before he stepped back.

Raven, because she had no chill whatsoever, chose that exact moment to speak up. “So, real question. You got any more brothers?”

“Raven,” I said flatly.

“I’m just asking for research purposes.”

Amai actually laughed—a real one, low in his chest. “No more brothers.”

“Damn.” Raven looked genuinely disappointed.

“I do have a best friend, though.”

“Amai.” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to. “Don’t.”