Page 29 of Touch Me

She tucks a lock of curly, near-black hair behind her ear,then nods, looking like a proud parent. “I’m calling it Doppelgänger.”

I meet Ryan’s eyes, and we both grin. “That’s perfect,” Itell her. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Your story?” Moira says. “So it’s about Ryan’s firstmarriage and everything that went down the last time Jamie and Ryan were inLondon.”

“First wife?” Ryan shoots a stern look my direction beforeturning to Moira. “How do you know about that?”

She shrugs. “Jamie told me a few months ago. How could shenot? It’s one hell of a story.”

“And don’t tell anyone else,” Gabby said, laughing. “Who’llbuy the book if they already know the twists?”

“Fair enough.” I hold up the box. “So you’re saying I won’twant to read this because I already know it?”

“I hope you do want to. But I need you to either way. Ireally want your comments before I submit it. It’s already sold—the publisherbought it off a five-chapter proposal—but I don’t want to send in the entirething until you guys have a chance to comment.” She looks between me and Ryan.“Do you mind?”

“Hell, no,” he says. “This will be great.”

“Absolutely,” I say, then put the box down and give her ahug.

“Can I?” Moira asks. “I mean, I don’t know the story indetail, so I’ll know better than those two what might be confusing.”

“Of course. And I’ll take any comments you have at all.”

“This will be fun.” Moira turns to look pointedly at Ryan.“It will fill my useless days.”

“Useless days?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she lifts a brow and staresdown her brother.

“What?” he says. “You think griping in front of my wife willget you what you want?”

“How will I know until I try?”

“What’s going on?” I ask, shooting Gabby a look that I hopesays sorry, it looks like we’re diverting over to family drama for a moment.

From the way she grins, I think she gets it.

“My elder know-it-all-brother won’t give me the now-open jobof being his assistant because he thinks I’m making a mistake leaving a jobthat I hate.”

“You don’t want to be an assistant, Moira. That’s not yourpath.”

“A, you aren’t me, so you don’t know. And B, all I wantright now is a paycheck. I’ll figure out the rest of it later.”

“I hear ad agencies pay well.”

“They do. And some people love working in advertising. Butfor me, it was soul-sucking. Do you really want a sister with no soul?” Sheturns to me. “Would you even let me babysit if I have no soul?”

“She has a point,” I say, managing not to laugh.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Ryan says. “That way Gabbydoesn’t have to suffer.”

“Fine,” she says. Because Moira, like me, understands Ryanwell enough to know that she’s already won.

Dinner is low-key, especially since we decide to take thefood outside to enjoy the warm, lovely night. The conversation bounces fromtopic to topic. Everything from advertising to spies to why there’s a greenflash at sunset. After, Ryan opens a bottle of wine, then gives me a shrug thattranslates to sorry. He softens the blow by offering me cranberryjuice.

I’m fine without wine, though. When Dr. Albright confirmedthe pregnancy and gave me the list of dos and don’ts, I almost lost my shitwhen she got to the wine, beer, and liquor section. Not because I had to giveit up, but because I probably drank gallons of the stuff in the last fewmonths.

I’m a wine with dinner girl, after all. Or, more accurately,a wine anytime girl. And that means that the little niblet spent eight entireweeks fermenting in my uterus. Not to mention being bombarded by useless birthcontrol pills for those weeks when I had no clue.