Capri topped off her glass. “How’s Camille holding up? Is the morning sickness finally letting up?”
Lila let out a sharp breath, her fingers tightening around her glass. “Yes, she’s doing better. And I finally met the father—Blaine Newcomb. Had the pleasure of a little sit-down with him and his mother at the Rustic Pine…Senator Newcomb, in case you didn’t make the connection.”
Charlie Grace arched an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good. And judging by the look on your face, it wasn’t. What happened?”
Reva set down her fork, sensing trouble. “Yes, what did they want?”
Lila let out a humorless laugh, still shaking her head at the sheer audacity of it. “We walked into a business negotiation that felt like a trap.” She took a sip of her drink before continuing. “Claudia Newcomb did most of the talking. Said they’ve been ‘considering all options’ and decided it would be best for everyone—especially Camille—if Blaine legally relinquished his rights to the baby.”
Silence fell over the table as her friends absorbed the weight of those words.
Capri frowned. “Wait. He wants to sign away his rights? Just like that?”
Lila gave a slow nod, her expression filled with disgust. “And all Camille had to do was sign an NDA, ensuring Camille and the baby never so much as whisper the Newcomb name again. Especially in public.”
Charlie Grace leaned back, arms crossed against her chest. “Unbelievable. That coward’s skipping out, and his mother’s sweeping his mess under the rug?”
“Oh, she spun it beautifully,” Lila said with a dry laugh. “Said it would ‘free Camille’ from any unnecessary complications, allow her to start fresh without the burden of messy entanglements.” Her fingers tightened around her glass. “As if that baby is an inconvenience instead of a human being. As if Camille hasn’t spent months agonizing over how to do what’s best.”
Reva’s jaw clenched. “What did you say?”
Lila met her gaze, fire sparking in her eyes. “I told them that Camille would decide what’s best for her child.”
Capri exhaled, shaking her head. “And what did they say to that?”
Lila gave a humorless smile. “The senator gave me that patronizing little smirk of hers and said…and I’m summarizing. But I was ‘letting emotions cloud my judgment.’ That it was a ‘generous offer’ and I should ‘encourage Camille to be pragmatic.’” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Oh, and of course, they’d ensure ‘discreet financial assistance.’ You know, to soften the blow.”
Reva scoffed. “So, they want to throw money at her, erase the whole thing, and waltz back into their perfect little world?” She shook her head, letting out a dry laugh. “If secrecy was their top priority, maybe they shouldn’t have chosen the Rustic Pine for their big cover-up meeting. Do they even know how small towns work? Keeping secrets isn’t exactly our strong suit.”
“Exactly.” Lila set her glass down, shaking her head. “And Blaine just sat there the whole time, nodding along, barely looking me in the eye. Like a spineless little puppet.”
Charlie Grace huffed. “Please tell me you told them where to shove their NDA.”
Lila’s smirk returned, this time edged with steel. “Oh, I did. I told them Camille has more backbone in her pinky than Blaine ever will—and that this family doesn’t take hush money.” She hesitated for a beat, then added, “But honestly? Blaine Newcomb is controlling, and the thought of him having any influence over Camille and the baby unsettles me. Maybe this isn’t just them cutting ties. Maybe it’s God protecting my daughter.”
Capri nodded her approval. “Darn right.”
Reva exhaled, shaking her head in disbelief. “What now?”
Lila’s expression softened. “That’s up to Camille. But whatever she decides, she’s not alone in this. And she sure doesn’t need nasty people like them dictating her future.”
Her friends nodded, a silent agreement passing between them. No matter what happened next, they would stand by Camille—and Lila—every step of the way.
Then, as if sensing the heavy turn of the conversation, Charlie Grace exhaled and leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, if we’re talking about things getting out of hand, can we discuss the spectacle that Jason Griffith’s wedding is turning into?”
Reva groaned, rubbing her temples. “Oh, don’t get me started. His mother, Oma, and the Knit Wits have officially lost their minds.”
Capri leaned in with a smirk forming. “All right, hit me with the latest.”
Charlie Grace exhaled. “Oh, you have no idea. His mother and the Knit Wits have taken over, and now the whole thing is turning into some kind of over-the-top spectacle.”
Reva nodded. “Apparently, they think the Bluebird Bookstore is such a pillar of Jason’s identity that they want to incorporate it into the wedding theme. They’ve decided every guest should receive a custom leather-bound book as a favor.”
Lila raised an eyebrow. “Who’s funding this? The Library of Congress?”
Charlie Grace shook her head. “And that’s just the start. Oma’s convinced that because Jason loves birdwatching, they need actual bluebirds in decorative cages at the reception—for ambiance.”
Capri broke into laughter. “Oh, sure. Nothing says romance like a bunch of panicked birds flapping around in the middle of dinner.”
