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“Let me guess.” Hazel openly stares at the hickeys on my neck, her mouth twisted in a playful smirk. “Your man is making up for branding you?”
“He didn’t brand me. We just got a little… carried away.”
“Mhm. I saw what he did to those flowers, too. Does he also pee a circle around your desk every time he visits?”
“Ew! No!” I laugh and smack her with the box lid. “He’s not that—okay, yes, he’s that bad.”
“But you don’t seem to mind.”
I sigh. “I really don’t. It’s nice. After a whole lifetime of being someone’s side prop, but never… never a priority…”
My voice cracks as emotion wells up out of nowhere. Sadness? Grief? Acceptance?
Good Lord, what’s happening to me?
Hazel rubs my arm, then pulls me in for a hug. “Hey, hey. I got you. I get that, too. I don’t know this guy well, but I gotta agree: he’s giving you everything your family wouldn’t. What your ex wouldn’t. Including—maybe even especially—a healthy daily dose of Vitamin D.”
I gasp. “Hazel! It’s not every day!”
“Damn near.”
“And how would you know?”
She grins at me and whips the first silk scarf at my baby bump. “Not all of your glow is coming from this pregnancy. I see it, and I’m happy for you. The Tweedles see it, too, but I think they’re just jealous.”
I roll my eyes as I drape the cashmere scarf around my neck. “I feel like they’re out to punish me with this stupid Conrad project.”
“Let me handle them. And, seriously, Daph—let me handle him if it gets to be too much.”
This is why Hazel and I became best friends so quickly: we had each other’s backs from Day One. Even now, years later, we’d sooner take a bullet for each other than sit back and let shit fly.
“Thanks, Haze. You’re the best.”
When Pasha pulls up into the gallery parking lot to pick me up for dinner, it’s clear he’s out to make a statement. Swapping the SUV for something that doesn’t smell like sex makes sense…
But this?
He steps out of the gleaming Lamborghini and meets me at the front door. “Ready to go?”
I glance over my shoulder to spot The Tweedles staring at me, then out the window, at the luxury car they’ll never be able to afford in a million years. If they stare any harder, they’ll start to drool.
Pasha notices the same thing and smirks. He cups the side of my face in his hand. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
I don’t have time to tell him I haven’t changed since “lunch” before he’s claiming my mouth in a wholly inappropriate kiss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s showing off.
It’s not quite peeing around my desk—but it’s not far from that, either.
“Shall we?” he purrs when he pulls away.
I’m still a little wobbly in the knees from that kiss. “Uh, yeah, yup. Sounds good.”
He helps me in and buckles me up, then walks around to get behind the wheel. “How’s your mom doing?” I ask as he starts to drive. His hand is on my thigh, as per usual. I know he’s got this possessive streak a mile long, but sometimes, it almost feels like he’s reassuring himself that I’m still here. That I do actually exist.
I get it. I feel the same way about him.
“She’s doing good. Already shopping for the baby.”
That makes me feel warm inside for a millisecond before I wonder what my own mom is doing and the warmth gets snuffed right down. “I love her. Your mother is so lovely, and beautiful! Like, really, really beautiful.”
