“Shh, don’t even suggest it. Some tabloid will pick it up, and that will be the death of my career.”
“I heard, back in the day, Richard Gere had his own battle with tabloids and animals, and people still love him.”
“When was the last time you went to a Richard Gere movie?”
She laughed. “I get your point. Now, back to the song. What’s up?”
For some reason, I didn’t want to tell her. It was unusual. I wasn’t one to keep secrets. I wasn’t one to hide away parts of me from my friends.
“Just been a day,” I told her.
“Well, whatever is fueling it, it’s good,” she said. “I’ve already got some ideas on how to finish it.”
“I knew you would.”
“You’re in Grand Orchard?” she asked.
“Yeah. Cass is about ready to burst. I want to be here for her.”
“Babies…” she said with a sigh.
“Babies?” Eli’s voice came through over the phone, followed by another sigh and his husky voice lowered to a murmur, saying, “Want to go to work on another one?”
Ava’s former Coast Guard husband was deep and broody and her perfect match. I could almost see him with his arms around her waist and lips on her neck.
I’d always been happy she’d found someone who could love her the way she deserved to be loved, and yet, today it filled me with fire. Not because I wanted Ava, but because I wanted someone. Someone who got me the way Ava and Eli got each other. I wanted to wrap my arms around someone and kiss their neck and have them crumble at the knees. My vision filled withCari.
“I’m going to leave you two at it then,” I said with a hint of laughter.
“Talk later,” Ava said and clicked off.
My sister’s Prius pulled into the yard, and I headed out to the driveway in time to help her with the reusable grocery bags she was hauling from the trunk. In the kitchen, we put things away, and then she set to work putting together the lasagna she’d promised earlier that I knew would taste good, regardless of how much I’d harassed her about it.
“Do you want help?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, I like doing it.”
I watched as she moved around the kitchen like the expert she was. She’d been experimenting with food for as long as I could remember, replacing the meat in recipes with other ingredients, like her pulled pork sandwiches made from jackfruit, of all things.
“I looked through Mom’s reminders today.” I tried to keep the note of bitterness from my tone. “Weren’t you supposed to be out on maternity leave starting this week?”
“I’m trying to save as much time as possible for after the baby is born. Plus, what would I do? Sit around with my feet up, eating bonbons or something?”
“What do you have against bonbons?”
She laughed. “Nothing if they’re made with cocoa from child-labor-free farms.”
“How did you become the flower child of our family?”
She hit me with a towel. “Caring about what we eat and our world hardly makes me a flower child.”
“Speaking of people who are not flower children, what’s the deal with Professor Asswipe Hardy?”
Her mixing hand froze. “What do you mean? Or rather should I ask, what did you do?”
“I just wanted to see the guy. Maybe intimidate him a little,” I said with a shrug.
She laughed.
