shadowbox kit, a bunch of coloring supplies, and a fabric paint project collection.”
She swung right and left in a modeling pose. “A giant sunflower is a bit much, but so is Tinker Belly.”
She’d been standing for only a short time, but her back was already beginning to burn. As she stretched with a fist pressed into her lower back, a low moan left her throat.
“Are you okay?”
Ignoring a new succession of body sensations—particularly the dull throb around her belly button—she blew off Lynda’s concern.
“I’m fine. Just pregnant.” She managed to lean close enough to meet Lynda halfway for a cheek smooch.
Flashing a peace sign, she said, “I’m out,” and slowly shuffled back to her tiny guest apartment.
As she shut the door and headed to the living room, her eyes drifted to the Scooby-Doo wall calendar. It was September thirtieth. Tomorrow, when she flipped to the next month, she’d have made it to the finish line without falling to pieces.
On her way to the couch, Summer stopped. She glanced to the right where her bedroom sat at the end of a short hallway. Then she eyed up the sofa.
The light gray two-cushion modern sofa matched the rest of the Ikea furniture left behind by the Gerry’s daughter, Brigit. Comfort and functionality aside, none of it was her style. She missed her big, ugly Brady Bunch couch. She missed the collection of mismatched pillows and soft throw blankets for napping.
She missed her old life.
Feeling her strength waning, she turned toward the bedroom and held the wall along the way.
The light-blocking drapes were closed, so the room was cool. She propelled herself toward the bed and sat. Her gaze drifted across the mess of stuff and nonsense cluttering a nightstand. A stack of paperbacks served as a shelf for a tub of belly butter and a little basket overflowing with lip balms and Chap Sticks.
Her long, wistful sigh filled the air when she gazed at an ingenious dresser with a changing table on top contributed by Uncle Reed. Next to it was a gorgeous pink crib with white and gold dust accents. Summer loved the ornate wood back with its bow and ribbon scrollwork. Nursery furniture was a true marvel. The crib could convert into many configurations from infant crib to toddler bed to a twin size adult bed.
This was the only room she decorated for herself. It was a shabby chic sanctuary and nursery filled with soft colors and happy, shiny things.
Crawling inch by inch to a pile of pillows, Summer sank into their comfort, shifted her belly until the tension melted from her back, and promptly fell asleep for a midafternoon nap.
Arnie was helping his NIGHTWIND bosses hang a framed commendation from the mayor when Milo angrily stomped past them in the otherwise empty corridor.
Watching him storm by, newlywed and insta-dad Kingsley Maddison’s face transformed from a dark scowl to droll amusement. Beside him, groom-in-waiting Jon Weston didn’t hide his smirk.
Squinting at the wiry little dude’s retreating form, Arnie had to be blind not to notice the vibrant green sparks hovering around Milo’s head.
Jon sniggered. “We might have to get a drinking game started. Every time Jade rubs Milo the wrong way, we take a shot.”
“She’s not rubbing him at all,” King drawled with his patented sardonic cockiness. “Blue balls.” He chuckled, nodding in Milo’s direction.
“More like Jade balls,” Arnie said.
They cracked up because that’s what guys do when another guy has woman trouble. The sound of their manly chuckles drew Dottie from her office.
“What are you ladies cackling about?”
Out of sheer habit, Arnie flinched and straightened like a guilty kid.
“Nothing,” he blurted out with no believability whatsoever.
Jon punched King in the arm, and said, “See? What did I tell you? It’s like she has a Taser aimed straight at his nuts.”
“Nut. Singular.” King sniggered.
Arnie frowned at them. He didn’t know where to start with how much was fucking wrong with both men.
“Since you’ve proved you man-worthiness and gotten your lovely bride knocked up, she’s laying down new rules.” Dottie’s delivery made it hard to keep a straight face.
Arnie loved it when she focused her scary grandma badass powers on somebody other than him.
King muttered, “She’s like twenty minutes pregnant but insists on telling everybody.”
“The minute you told Jack and Nicole a baby is on the way, your little secret was out of the bag,” Arnie reminded him.
“An-ee-way,” Dottie pointedly countered. “Apparently, we’re all expected to clean up and dress