“Most men are fucking idiots.” He steps in again, sliding both arms around my waist. “And just FYI, you’re going to have to work a lot harder than that to scare me away.”
I link my hands together behind his neck. “Good.”
“Very good,” he echoes as he kisses me again.
It’s a sweeter kiss than the first one, a slow brush of his lips against mine, an exploration. A gentle challenge I answer with a whispered promise, “Tonight. My room. Midnight. Everyone else should be asleep by then.”
He pulls back to arch a displeased brow. “We’re keeping this a secret?”
“Just for a little while. Until we know for sure.”
“Until you know for sure,” he corrects. “I’m already completely on board.”
“We’ll see,” I say. “You haven’t seen me at my worst. Like after this baby shower, for example. I’m sure I’ll be intensely cranky.”
He grins. “You’re cute when you’re cranky. Like a kitten thrown in a bathtub.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m going to throw you in a bathtub.”
“Yes, please,” he says.
We end up kissing again, only coming up for air when Sabrina texts to ask where I am and to threaten to strangle me if I make her late to the shower.
“I have to run. Literally.” I push up on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to Nick’s cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”
“My absolute pleasure,” he says, calling after me as I dash for the stairs. “I’ll tell Neville you’ll start on Monday!”
“All right, if you insist,” I call back to him. “But don’t come crying to me if you change your mind in two months and want your job back.”
“I won’t,” he says. “All I want is you, baby.”
I pause at the door to the stairwell, turning to shoot him one last hopeful, exasperated look, then blow him a kiss and push through the door. Biting back a giddy giggle, I race down the stairs, through the ground floor lobby, and out into the sunny day, where everything looks even brighter and shinier than it did before.
Including myself, I suppose.
The instant Sabrina, who’s pacing in front of the café, spies me, her eyes light up with delight—and confusion. “What’s up with you?” she asks with a laugh. “You’re glowing.”
“Am I?” I demur, shrugging one shoulder. “Must be the run. I jogged so I wouldn’t be any later than I am already.”
Bree’s eyes narrow. “No, it’s not a jogging glow. It’s a soul glow. Something’s happened. Something good.”
I shrug again, my smile widening. “Maybe.”
“Tell me,” my sister demands. “You have to. I need good news. The cook just called and said the bakery delivered pink cupcakes instead of yellow.”
I wave a hand as I follow Sabrina to the Town Car idling up the street. “Lizzy won’t care.”
“And they have boobs on them.”
I laugh. “What? Why?”
She sighs and shakes her head. “They combined our order with the breast cancer awareness order or something and ended up delivering boob cupcakes to everyone. But there isn’t time to remake two hundred cupcakes. So, it’s either boobs or nothing. But the press is going to be there for the first part of the shower, so either boob cakes are on the front page tomorrow, or we have nothing for dessert and Lizzy is miserable because sugar is her only comfort in her time of extreme pregnancy.” Bree moans as she stops beside the car. “It’s a disaster, Zan. My first big royal party, and it’s a complete disaster.”
“No, it’s not,” I assure her as the driver rushes around to open the back door. “I took cake decorating my last year at boarding school. We’ll head straight to the kitchen, whip up a batch of piping, and I’ll figure something out.”
Sabrina is so grateful for my soothing words—and for how I transform the sex cupcakes into googly-eyed kittens with wavy whiskers in the nick of time—that she forgets to press me on the reason for my glow.
The shower goes off without a hitch, aside from Lizzy getting misty-eyed over every receiving blanket and tiny pair of socks. She even sniffles over the reusable diapers, further proof she isn’t in her right mind.
Only a bad case of pregnancy hormones could make hand-washing soiled nappies seem adorable or romantic.
“I give her two weeks,” I mutter to Sabrina as we gather up another armful of presents to deliver to our sister. “Two weeks until she’s begging someone to run to the store for disposable diapers.”
Sabrina laughs beneath her breath. “Supposedly, Jeffrey’s going to handle the diapers. He’s already warned the housecleaning staff. They’re hiring a night nurse to help out for the first few months, but he believes cleaning a baby’s bottom is a parent’s job. And since Lizzy’s going to be busy breastfeeding however many darlings emerge from that giant belly of hers…”
I pause my present gathering and shoot a wide-eyed glance Bree’s way. “No. You don’t think…”