Duke carried down the last box of my belongings and placed it in the hatchback of my car. It turned out I didn’t own that much—and furniture was what took up most of the space. And since I was leaving it, I only had the contents of the meager kitchen, clothes, and a few towels.
“You should make a registry,” Jazz said as she sipped her to-go coffee, her eyes shielded by sunglasses. She’d partied with Brielle the night before and it was clear she was hungover. I didn’t miss those nights. Not that there had been that many to begin with.
“I think you do that when you have a baby shower,” I said.
“I meant something of a wedding registry.”
“I’m not getting married.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“But you’re having a baby.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re living with the father of the baby…”
“Your point?”
“Isn’t marriage next?”
“You’re missing one crucial, vital part of all this.”
“What’s that?”
“The love part?”
She waved her hand. “You love him. You know you love him. Slash knows you love him. Even Duke knows you love him. Don’t you, Duke?”
“Don’t I what?” he asked, closing the hatchback.
“Know that Brooklyn loves Slash.”
“Oh, yeah. I know that.”
“Is nothing a secret anymore?” I demanded.
“I don’t hear you denying it,” Jazz said smugly.
The last few times I’d spoken on the phone with Slash, it had taken all of my willpower not to blurt it out. I steadfastly refused to believe this was anything more than hormones. My heart—and vagina—were confused.
“I have strong feelings for Slash,” I admitted. “And I’ll leave it at that. You want to come over for dinner tonight? We can plan the Sullivan christening cake.”
“And you’ll feed me?”
“I’ll feed you.”
“I’m there.”
“Can I come?” Duke asked. “I’ll bring something.”
“Sure. But bring Willa, too, yeah?”
“Willa?” Jazz asked. “Who’s Willa? Are you replacing me with another girl who also has an awesome name?”
I chuckled. “No. I’m not replacing you. Actually, you guys should meet. She’s going to redesign our website.”
“Cool deal. I’ll bring Brielle, too?”
“Absolutely!” I said.
“This is turning into a party,” Duke said. “You shouldn’t be on the hook for cooking for everyone. Savage and I will take care of the food.”
“Savage is coming now too?” I asked with a grin.
“Where I go, Willa goes. And where Willa goes, Savage goes,” Duke explained. “How’s barbecue?”
“Pulled pork,” I breathed. “Hmm. Yeah.”
“And cheese biscuits, and ribs, and—you know what? I’ll make a list,” Jazz said.
“Jazz and I will supply the pies,” I said. “It’s what I’m best at anyway.”
“I love everything about this,” Jazz said. “It’s like an impromptu housewarming.”
“Slash is missing it. I guess we’ll just have to do it all over again when he gets back into town.”
“I think we went a little bit overboard,” Jazz said.
I sliced a banana and placed it on top of the pie. “What makes you say that?”
“Your fridge is full and there’s no room for drinks.”
“Drinks! I can’t have booze, so I forgot about drinks...”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got Brielle on it. She’s bringing coolers.”
My phone vibrated on the counter, and I saw Slash’s name appear. I pressed a button. “Hello.”
“I want to lick every inch of your body,” he said in way of greeting.
Jazz let out a laugh.
My cheeks flamed. “Ah, I probably should’ve mentioned you were on speaker.”
Slash paused, and then he said, “Hi, Jazz.”
“Hi, Slash! Brooklyn, I’m gonna step outside and—yeah.”
A moment later, the front door closed. I took Slash off speaker and put the phone to my ear.
“Where are you?” Slash asked.
“Home.”
“Which home. Yours or ours?”
Warmth curled through me. “Ours.”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Baking pies.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Nothing but an apron.”
“Liar.”
I chuckled. “Stretchy pants and a sweater. No bra.”
“What kind of pies?”
“Banana cream, chocolate cream, lemon meringue, apple, and I took it a step further and made strawberry shortcake. But instead of cake, I made biscuit-scone things.”
“Who are you trying to feed? An army?”
“I’m having a party. Well, it kind of turned into a party by accident. It started with me inviting Jazz over, and then Duke wanted to come, and then Jazz invited Brielle, and it kinda grew.”
“I like it, babe. I like that you’re having people over. Wish I was there.”
“Me too.”
“Acid and I are in Coeur d’Alene now. We’re taking care of some shit, and in a few days we’ll be heading back.”
“Good,” I said. “I have an appointment at the doctor’s later next week. First ultrasound.”
He sighed. “Woman.”
The way he said that word, like he was claiming and possessing me, had shivers racing down my entire spine. Desire swirled low in my belly.
“I’ll be back by then,” he promised.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” I grinned even though he couldn’t see me. My other line beeped. I looked at the screen and saw Diane Huddleston’s name appear. “Slash? That’s my other line and I have to take it.”
“I’ll call you later.”
“Lo—okay.” I hastily shoved the word back into my mouth and then clicked over. “Hello?”
“Hi, Brooklyn? This is Diane.”
“Hi, Diane.”
The front door opened, and Jazz popped her head in, asking silently if it was safe. I waved her in.
“I’ve been doing some digging on your account, and I’m finding a lot of irregularities.”
Jazz walked past the kitchen, and a moment later, I heard the bathroom door shut.
“What kind of irregularities?” I inquired.
“Well, for the last three months, it doesn’t appear as if you’ve made any payments on your loan. And yet, when I go into your account, I can see that the money has been taken out of your account. Same day every month.”
The door to the bathroom opened, and Jazz returned to the kitchen.
“That’s really weird,” I said.
“Indeed. I need some time to explore this further. I’m getting the IT department involved. I’ll be in touch in a few business days.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate your help.”
“My pleasure. We’ll find out what’s going on.”
I hung up with Diane and set my phone aside.
“What was that about?” Jazz asked.
“It was the bank.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“Something’s wrong with my account. My last three loan payments are missing, but the money has been taken out of my account.”
“The last three?” she repeated. “Seriously?”
The doorbell rang, preventing us from continuing the line of conversation. Jazz rushed to the door and opened it. Duke and Savage filled the doorway, holding paper bags of food. They immediately came in. Trailing behind them was Willa and a red-haired teenage girl.
“Hope you don’t mind, but I brought my sister, Waverly,” Willa said.
I smiled at Waverly. “I don’t mind. Hi. I’m Brooklyn.”
“Hi.” She gave a cursory wave and then followed Duke.
“Sorry,” Willa said quietly. “Things have been weird at home, and I thought it would be good for her to tag along. Even though there won’t be anyone here her age.”
“You know the cure for surly teenagers?” I asked her.
“What?”
“A slice of chocolate cream pie.” I winked.
“Brooklyn,” Savage called out. “Where should we put all this?”
“Hold on. Let me move the pies.” Jazz and I placed the pies onto a cookie sheet and slid it on top of the fridge.
“Why not put them in the fridge?” Willa asked.
“Because there isn’t room. We made a ton,” I said. I looked at Waverly. “Do you like pie?”
“Meh,” she replied.
Bristly little scamp.
“Well, what about strawberry shortcake?” I asked. “We’ve got that too.”
Her blue eyes lit up in excitement. “It’s my favorite.”
“How about that,” I said with a grin. “I’m so hungry I could eat an entire hog.”
“Good,” Duke said. “We ordered a hog and a half.”
“And about a quarter of a cow,” Savage added. “The brisket from The Pit is dynamite.”
“I love that place,” Jazz said, digging through a bag. “Potato salad, coleslaw, cheese biscuits, buns, pickles, collard greens with ham. Kill me. I’ve died and gone to food heaven.”
“We brought the paper plates and cutlery,” Willa said. “Oh, I left them in the car. Let me grab them.”
She went to the door and pulled it open and almost collided with Brielle.
The two of them quickly exchanged introductions.
“Nice to meet you,” Virgil said from over his sister’s shoulder.
Willa backed out of the way and let Brielle inside. Roman and Virgil carted in a cooler. “Where do you want this?” Roman asked.
“Um”—I looked around—“how about against the far wall? Let me get a towel to put down, so we don’t scratch the floor.”
I rushed to the linen closet and got an old rag. I set it down and then let Virgil and Roman place the cooler on top.
“Hope it’s okay we’re crashing the party,” Roman said.
“The more the merrier,” I said with a smile.
“Homer didn’t come with you?” Jazz asked. I glanced at her. Her expression appeared nonchalant.
“You know Homer.” Brielle rolled her eyes. “Grumpy McGrumphole-pants.”
The house was vibrant with food and conversation. Even Waverly was smiling, but that might’ve been because Duke and Savage treated her like their little sister. They asked her questions and she answered. I remembered what it was like at her age, just wanting to be seen and taken seriously.
I didn’t know her and Willa’s home-life situation, but it sounded messy and complex. What life wasn’t?
And even though I was so happy, so grateful that I’d found friends who wanted to throw impromptu parties at my house, I missed Slash.
I didn’t like that he was gone, and speaking on the phone wasn’t the same as seeing him in person.
“I’m ready for the grand tour,” Brielle said after her plate of brisket disappeared.
“This is pretty much it,” I said with a laugh. “It might be considered quaint to some, but after living in a studio apartment in Manhattan and in a converted storage room, this feels pretty grand.”
“You’ve lived in Manhattan?” Waverly asked, her blue eyes widening.
“Yep. Rode the subway. Ate from hot-dog carts. Bought seafood from Chinatown. I’ve done it. I earned my badge.”
“Wow. I’d love to go to New York City one day,” Waverly said.
“I promised I’d take you for your sixteenth birthday,” Willa said, wrapping her arm around her kid sister’s shoulder and hauling her close.
Waverly pretended to hate it, but she looked up at Willa with complete adoration.
My hand absently went to my belly. I wanted my baby to have a sibling, I realized. I hoped Slashed wanted—
“Pie!” I yelled.
Jazz jumped. “Jeez, excitement much? You don’t even like sweets.”
“You don’t like sweets?” Waverly asked in confusion. “That’s criminal.”
“You want to help me get everything out?” I asked her.
She nodded.
I caught Willa’s eyes and she mouthed thank you.
I winked.
Late afternoon lazily sank into evening. I sat on the long couch that was almost too big for the space, but not quite. Willa perched on the other end, and Duke was in between us. Savage took the matching recliner, while Roman, Brielle, Virgil and Waverly plopped down onto the floor.
Waverly tried to appear unaffected, but she kept staring at Roman, who completely didn’t notice.
Schoolgirl crush, for sure.
“You really don’t have any tattoos? Like, none at all?” Virgil asked me. “Not even an ankle heart or something?”
“Not even that,” I said.
“When you do get one, will you let me be the one to ink you?” Virgil asked.
Jazz snorted. “You think Slash is going to let you put ink on Brooklyn?”
“Depends where it is, I guess,” Virgil said with a teasing grin.
“Thanks for the offer,” I said. “But I’m not getting a tattoo. Not anytime soon, anyway.”
“Oh, because you’re pregnant?” Virgil inquired.
I raised my brows. “I don’t remember telling you I was pregnant.”
“Brielle told me. Congratulations, by the way.”
“You’re having a baby?” Waverly asked. “Why?”
“Waverly,” Willa hissed.
I let out a laugh and thought quickly about how to get out of telling a truth that wasn’t appropriate for younger ears. “Because I want one.”
“Huh.” Waverly frowned, like she couldn’t understand what I was talking about. Her phone chimed in her pocket, and she pulled it out. She immediately texted someone back. “Can I sleep over at Jessica’s tonight?”
“Why don’t you invite her back to our place,” Willa suggested.
“You mean it?”
“Yeah. Mom’s working. I’ll supervise—and even paint your toenails.”
“Will you paint them black?”
Willa sighed. “Teenagers.”
Waverly stuck her tongue out. “Will you?”
“Whatever you want.” Willa got up from the couch. “Tell her we’ll pick her up in forty-five minutes.”
“Savage and I gotta get going,” Duke said, rising. “There are some prospects that need supervision.”
“I have a client,” Roman said. “He can only come after seven.”
“You’re leaving too,” Brielle said to Virgil.
“No, I’m not. I don’t have a place to be,” Virgil insisted.
“We have some things we need to talk about,” Brielle said. “Girl stuff.”
“Okay, okay. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” Virgil sighed. “Brooklyn, Dad wanted me to tell you he installed the new gas tank, and you can pick up the van tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“What happened to the gas tank?” Willa asked as she was ushering her sister toward the door.
“Someone drilled into it and drained the gas out,” Brielle said.
“Damn, really?” Willa asked. “That’s been happening a lot all over town.”
“It was a pain in the ass, since we literally just bought the thing,” Jazz said with a shake of her head.
Everyone left, and it was just Brielle, Jazz and me. Jazz stood up and moved to the couch, but Brielle stayed on the floor.
I rose and went into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Jazz asked.
“Cleaning up. Though, there’s not that much to put away. We demolished the barbecue.”
“And most of the pies,” Jazz noted.
“Waverly sure is a pistol,” Brielle said with a laugh. “Is it wrong that I wanted to hug her?”
I snorted. “No. She has that prickly exterior, but I’m sure she’s just a big marshmallow inside.”
“Willa’s cool too,” Brielle added.
“I think she needs some girl friends,” Jazz said. “I motion we bring her into the fold.”
“I support it,” Brielle said.
“Motion carried,” I said.
Brielle twirled a piece of red hair around her finger. “Did you guys know the building caddy corner from your bakery went up for sale?”
“I’m not surprised. It’s been empty for weeks,” Jazz said. “The street being torn up all along that block is bad for everyone’s business, not just ours.”
“I have news about Kurt Antol,” Brielle announced.
“Uh, why wasn’t that the first thing you brought up?” Jazz demanded.
“Relax, it’s nothing monumental. He works for the Smith Corporation.”
“And?” Jazz pressed.
“That’s all. That’s all I got,” Brielle said. “Is there more strawberry shortcake?”
“A bit,” I said. “So do you have any idea what the Smith Corporation actually is?”
“Nope. I even had a friend who’s a low-level hacker try and find out.”
“You know a hacker?” I asked in amusement.
“He’s a high school English teacher with a weekend hobby.” She shrugged. “But, yeah, he couldn’t find anything. Which means they have some deep pockets to hire enough attorneys to hide what their company does.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s involved in real estate,” I said. “He offered to buy my building.”
“What did you tell him?” Brielle asked.
“That it’s not for sale.” I shrugged, trying to dispel my worry. “He doesn’t seem inclined to believe that. But there’s not enough money on this earth to get me to sell my dad’s building.”