Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,92
other day? Those can be really froufrou.”
She grins. “So you were listening.”
I shrug. “A little bit filters in here and there.”
She stares off into space again, nodding her head slowly as her eyes narrow in concentration. “Maybe we could pull this off.”
“Not without help. You’d better go tell your fiancé you’re pregnant so the rest of us can find out and then we can start doing what needs to be done.” I stand up and spin her chair around to face out of the cubicle area. I try to tip the chair and dump her out of it, but it barely budges, merely leaning a bit.
She jumps up and turns around, glowering at me. “Be careful! I’m pregnant!”
I smile and point. “Go. Go tell your man he knocked you up.”
May turns to go, but three steps into her journey she stops. She spins around and comes running back to me, throwing her arms around me and squeezing for all she’s worth. “Thank you so much, Toni. I had no idea you were so good at giving advice.”
Her hair is covering my face and I’m all stiffened up, waiting for the affection to be over. “Sure. Anytime.” I cringe at my words, hoping she won’t take me up on the promise they contain. I actually suck in the advice department on a normal day, but this time it wasn’t so bad.
I pat May on the back and then push her away from me. “Go. I can’t stand knowing a secret that Ozzie doesn’t know.”
She pulls back and looks at me, smiling. “You’re probably his best friend. Did you know that?” She tilts her head at me.
I feel the light of joy beaming through my heart. “No, not really.”
She nods. “Trust me. I know things.” She gives me a little wave with her fingers and turns around to go, her thick, beautiful hair flying out behind her in its ponytail.
I smile watching her go and then laugh. That girl is so crazy. But I must admit, when she’s back here in the cubicle room with me, it does seem a lot brighter than when I’m alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I arrive home to the smell of garlic cooking in the kitchen. I inhale cautiously, hoping my stomach isn’t going to rebel. Now that I’m in my sixteenth week of pregnancy, it seems that my queasiness has pretty much disappeared. Only the odd smell, like cigarette smoke or broccoli, puts me on edge.
When I get to the kitchen, I find Lucky at the stove, stirring something in a sauté pan. This is almost normal for us now. He’s a way better cook than I am, and he’s usually home first. His being at the stove gives me time to settle in and wind down from the workday before we eat. I like sitting with him as the sun goes down; it’s relaxing. I never saw myself as a person enjoying that kind of thing, but here I am, doing just that.
“Smells good.” I drop my bag in a chair and go over to stand next to him.
He keeps his eyes on the pan, but his free hand comes up and wraps around my neck, pulling me closer so he can kiss me on the head. I love it when he does that; it makes me feel almost like his girlfriend, even though we haven’t yet had any discussions about where we stand. I’m not pushing for it, either. I like where we are now; it’s comfortable for both of us, I think.
His beard fluffs against my face, tickling my skin as he turns his head back to the food and lets me go. “I thought you might like a little linguine with clam sauce tonight, since you don’t seem to be as sensitive as before to the smells.”
“How did you know that’s my favorite?” I’m smiling up at him, maybe a little bit amazed that this man knows me so well. We’ve been living together for a while now, but he still pulls surprises out of nowhere sometimes.
“Every time we’ve ever gone out to an Italian restaurant, that’s what you order.” He looks at me and winks. “I like it too, so this one’s easy.”
He’s been cooking ever since my charcoaled toast disaster, and I haven’t had one single complaint since. He doesn’t even need to defrost things to put dinner on the table.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You can set the table.”
I hum a random tune under my breath as I gather utensils and napkins,