this week. All I had to do was convince Brock it was time to start spreading the news. I wasn’t exactly sure how to broach that subject, since it was a topic we skirted around like the plague. I knew he had said after the first trimester was over, but was he really ready to play happy while being barraged with congratulations on his impending fatherhood? Perhaps his father had given him a pep talk about that too. Maybe his acting skills would cover this aspect as well.
She grabbed my hands, so excited. “I can’t wait to snuggle your baby.”
“Me either.” I had been dreaming lately of a little baby girl. She was perfect, with dark hair and smooth olive skin. She smelled heavenly, and when I cradled her against my chest, I swore it felt so real. So worth all the pain. This baby was like a beacon on a hill, helping me to put one step in front of another, no matter how long or how hard the climb was.
“How are you feeling? You look like you have some more color to your skin.”
“I’m feeling better. I still get nauseated, but mostly only during the morning. I’m still exhausted, though.”
“I bet Brock’s not helping out there.” She playfully nudged me. “These men. I swear all they think about is sex.”
I spat out a fake laugh before I cried, “Yep. Men.”
Thankfully, Kinsley walked in bearing bags of food and saved me from having to continue talking about my nonexistent sex life. “What are you laughing about?” she asked.
“Men.” Ariana grinned.
“If Brant is one of them, I’ve already seen the pictures and watched the newsclips.”
Ariana and I gave Kinsley our full attention.
Kinsley stood proud and as tall as she could, which wasn’t tall at all. “Jill looked absolutely ridiculous.” Kinsley shook her head in disgust. “She looked like a bucket of sparkles attacked her and she lost.” She laughed and we joined her. It was probably the meanest thing Kinsley had ever said in her life.
Kinsley took a deep cleansing breath and let it out. “I decided last night if that was his choice, I don’t want to be an option. I’m not going to consider myself second best to her.”
Huh. Grandma was right. Again. Kinsley was stronger than we gave her credit for.
Ariana and I rushed our sister and wrapped her in our arms.
“I thought you said there was nothing going on between you and Brant,” Ariana teased.
“There really wasn’t. There couldn’t be,” Kinsley said, muffled between us. “Still . . . I wanted there to be. But he made his choice.”
Yes, dear Kinsley, we all made choices. I’m so, so sorry for mine. Brant and I never meant to hurt you.
Chapter Fifteen
“Aren’t they the cutest couple?” Ariana whispered in my ear.
I was standing in the kitchen, staring for an unnaturally long time at our dinner guests, Aspen and Miles Wickham. I couldn’t help it, though. The way the debonair Brit always kept his hand on his wife’s burgeoning belly was mesmerizing. He had even kissed it once while they conversed with Jonah, Brock, and Tristan, Miles’s editor who was here visiting from London. With the help of Miles, we had kind of set up Tristan and Kinsley, unbeknownst to her. Anyway, I was in awe and so jealous of Aspen and Miles. I wanted what they had so desperately. What must it be like to have a man love you and your baby so much?
“They really are.” I tore my eyes away and focused back on dinner. Thank goodness for Kinsley and Ariana. I wasn’t blessed with the good-cook gene. Kinsley had made her to-die-for lasagna and homemade breadsticks. Ariana had brought Caesar salad. Me? I bought a beautiful chocolate cake from a bakery in Pine Falls on my way home from work. I was domestic like that.
Kinsley slid between us. “Are you trying to set me up?”
Ariana bit her lip. “With whom?” she played coy.
Kinsley narrowed her eyes at us. “With the gorgeous Brit.” She pointed covertly at the attractive man swirling his glass of chardonnay and laughing near the lit gas fireplace. He had the boyish charm of a younger Hugh Grant, with his messy chestnut hair and lively blue eyes. I would say he was around my age, so about five years older than Kinsley.
“You sound like you might be interested,” I threw in.
Kinsley smacked my arm. “I don’t need you to set me up on pity dates.”
“Does he look pitiful?” I countered.
Kinsley smirked. “Not