As much sense as her lawyer, Faulds, made, she couldn’t say the meetings and hour-long calls were a highlight of her week. Since Andrews left her apartment in a snit with his notary, there had been a dozen video conferences. New faces. New lawyers appeared in every one. On the other side, of course. Faulds was sticking with her. Fifty grand bought loyalty, apparently.
Intimidation tactics, that’s how Faulds explained the beefed-up opposition. Good for them. She’d never pegged JD as the type to hide behind others. So she was wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time. Imagine, it could be that the morning she left his suite might be the last time she ever laid eyes on the guy. No phone call. No email. He was never in the meetings. His kids were low on his agenda. That was a message delivered loud and clear, and she couldn’t care less. It was his loss and there were more important considerations in her life.
Her OB had told her to take it easy. Bedrest was the recommendation. The kids got bigger every day, sometimes every damn minute. Each morning, it got just a little harder to get out of bed. An expert at bounce and swing, she dreaded to think what would happen on the day she eventually failed to swoop herself onto her feet.
Dreaded thoughts of labor often eclipsed her excitement about meeting her children. Trepidation grew. Just how was she supposed to do it? As an abstract thought, it was fine, but they were creeping closer to inevitable parenthood. Two children. She had to push two children out of her body and then take complete responsibility for their safety.
Which was worse?
That answer swung back and forth too.
At the end of the workday, all she wanted to do was get home, soak her feet, and eat. Didn’t matter what. Just eat. And pee. She had to pee. Damn kids had her running back and forth to the restroom all day. Already they liked to bicker and push each other around. She’d get on that, you know, get them in line. After their birth. Punishing them before might lead to a little payback in the labor suite. And just how did someone discipline children in utero?
Ah, the lights of her life.
“Excuse me.”
In the Spotlight Solutions lobby, her path intersected another woman’s. Maybe about her age, the redhead carried confidence like she’d never seen.
“Uh, is something wrong?”
“I…”
The woman glanced over her shoulder at a woman at the edge of the space. With everyone else moving, on their way to somewhere, the woman’s stillness was stark.
There was that trepidation again. When the redhead’s gaze met hers, she exhaled.
“You have the same eyes.”
“Good,” the woman said, beaming. “His obviously worked to get you into bed. Great odds on my chance for a Dawes follow-up.”
Her shoulders dropped. All the tension became something like relief, and she laughed.
Oh, the inevitable came in many forms. “What do you know about chaos theory?”
That creased the woman’s brow. “Chaos theory? Like science?”
“Mathematics,” she said.
“Nothing. I know exactly nothing about it.”
“Good. You’re already miles ahead,” she said and cradled her belly. “There’s just one little thing in the way.”
“Two, I hear.”
“True. And they’re not so little.”
The woman shrugged. “I’ll work around ‘em.” She extended a hand. “Brenna.”
“Rylee,” she said and they shook.
Rather than let go, Brenna eased her hand closer. “We’re family. We just want to be your family, Rylee. These babies mean so much to her.” Her? Marjorie Dawes. “Please don’t break her heart.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone. The more love these kids can have in their lives, the better.”
Brenna’s smile grew again. “We’re going to get along. I can tell already.” She put an arm around her. “Come meet our mom.”
She resisted. “It’s late.”
“It’s five o’clock… ish.”
Fair. Yeah, why else would she be leaving the office? “I have a dinner reservation for three.”
“There are three of us.”
“No,” she said, stroking her stomach. “I’m three.”
Brenna peered closer. “Is this you telling me to get lost? Should I get defensive and shouty?”
“No,” she said, almost laughing again. Was JD this funny? “This is me saying at thirty-two weeks, if these children don’t get fed on time, they get cranky.”
The woman’s head bobbed in understanding. “They get that from Jamie. Well… less maybe of the fed thing, he just gets cranky.”
“You call him Jamie?”
Brenna nodded. “What do you call him?”
Her lips twisted in a badly subdued smile, and she leaned in, still holding her belly. “Nothing that should be repeated around little ears.”
“I’ll bet.” Brenna snickered. “We’re not all shoot and run. If I take you to dinner, will you give us a chance?”
“Throw in a restroom stop and I might even listen to what you have to say.”
Brenna’s attention returned to the twins. “It’s really… real.”
“Yes, they are.” Taking the woman’s hand, she held it on her stomach. “They’re in there ramping up to a squabble. How do you feel about pizza?”
“Mom has Jamie’s credit card. You can have whatever you want.”
“Champagne and caviar all round.”
“Are you allowed to drink champagne?”
“I didn’t say I would drink it, but I have no problem charging him for it.”
“Isn’t him liquoring you up how you got into this in the first place?”
“Champagne? No.” This time she didn’t resist when Brenna put an arm around her to guide them across the foyer. “Tequila’s responsible for this.”
Brenna laughed. “Could be a good name for one of them.”
“Yeah, and then we’d never forget.”
“How drunk were you?”
“Not drunk enough that I couldn’t have walked away.” Her lips parted for a breath. “I could’ve walked away any minute… Until he kissed me anyway. After that, I was all in.”
“All in is Jamie’s style.”
Not with his kids, but that would wait for another time. “That’s the past. No more talk of that.” She patted her belly. “Let’s stick to the future.”