Page 39 of Baby Perfection

“I’ll see what I can get accomplished in the meantime.” She lowered her head to his chest and held on as though it hurt to let go. “Why don’t you leave me the key and directions to your Lake Washington house. I’ll swing by and start working on some preliminary ideas on that front.”

“Do you think you’ll have enough time?”

Angie looked up at him and what he read in those soft, aquamarine eyes sent a shaft of desire spearing through him. “I need to stay busy while you’re gone, Lucius. Maybe if I fill every minute I won’t miss you quite as much.”

He cupped her face and feathered another kiss across her mouth. “Liar.”

And she was a liar, Angie readily conceded the instant he left. Guilt threatened to overwhelm her at the way she’d set herself up as the “perfect” woman for Lucius. She would have been tempted to tell him the truth except for two vital facts. First, though she might not be “perfect”—who was?—she didn’t have a single doubt that she suited him right down to the bones, just as he suited her. They fit together in every possible regard, from the way they related to one another, to emotional needs, to sexual compatibility. She’d never anticipated they’d bond so well, so fast. But they had and she refused to feel guilt over one small lie if it forced Lucius to see what had been right under his nose all along.

Second, Mikey needed a mother, someone who would love him as much as she would her own child, love him in a way the Ridgeways would never offer due to what they perceived as the “stain” on his bloodline. Though she hadn’t anticipated falling head over heels for a six-month-old, she had. And if it had taken one small lie to bring the three of them together as a family unit, well… She could live with the guilt. Besides, what did it matter how she and Lucius married, if the end result not only met their expectations, but exceeded them? Wasn’t that the actual intent and purpose of the Pretorius Program?

She presented those same arguments over dinner at Trinity’s apartment later that night. “Yeah, it sounds all nice and logical,” her friend allowed. “But I have a feeling Devlin won’t take your view of things. All he’s going to see is a big, fat lie and hang you with it. You know he has trust issues. This isn’t going to help him get over them.”

Trinity pinpointed the one detail that continued to gnaw at Angie. “I keep hoping the ends justify the means,” she muttered.

“A popular defense, but historically, it’s one that tends to get people hanged.” Trinity swept up their dinner plates and carted them into the kitchen. “I made cobbler. You want?”

“Did you make hard sauce to go with it?”

“Of course.”

“Then I want.”

Trinity laughed. “Just like my granny used to make with one small exception.” She set a small dish of cobbler in front of Angie. “In addition to the butter and sugar, there’s also a tablespoon of whiskey.”

Angie stabbed a finger at her friend. “You’re evil. I never noticed that about you before, but it’s true.”

“More like an evil genius. Since I don’t hear you rejecting the offer, even with my small addition, I’ll get the hard sauce.”

Angie tucked Mikey more firmly in the crook of her arm and offered him another bite of the cooked carrots she’d brought for his dinner. He scrunched up his face and shoved the spoon away. “Got it. No more carrots. Dessert time, right? Give me a minute and I’ll get your applesauce.”

He didn’t wait. Instead, he made a grab at her cobbler. Before she could whip it aside, he snatched up a small helping and shoved it into his mouth, crowing in approval at the flavor.

“The kid’s got good taste,” Trinity observed, setting a small bowl of hard sauce on the table.

Angie nipped her dessert plate clear of Mikey’s reach. “The kid isn’t allowed cobbler. He’s too little. And make sure you keep that hard sauce on your side of the table. If the Ridgeways ever found out he ate something containing alcohol they’d slapLucius with a lawsuit so fast they’d hear the sonic boom in the Antarctic.”

Trinity obediently shifted the bowl. “So, when’s the wedding and do I get to help pick out the dress?”

“This is Monday… The date’s been set for a week from Friday.”

“Nine days!” Trinity stared, nonplussed. “How are you supposed to pull everything together in nine days?”

“Apparently, Lucius has solved that problem by throwing money at it.” Angie helped herself to a bite of cobbler. “One call and the invitations that couldn’t possibly be ready for two weeks were available the same day. They go into the mail first thing tomorrow morning. The flowers have been ordered. Joe Milano is taking care of the cake. It’s amazing how much you can accomplish in a single day when money is no object.”

“What about a tux?”

Angie made a face. “Lucius must own a half-dozen tuxes, so that won’t be a problem.”

“Which leaves your wedding dress.”

“Which is a problem,” Angie acknowledged with a sigh.

“Not for long.” Trinity dropped a generous dollop of hard sauce on her cobbler and dug in. “The day after tomorrow you, me and Mikey will hit the stores and we won’t give up until we find the perfect gown. I’d drag you out shopping the first thing tomorrow—”

“But Mikey has his six-month checkup on Tuesday.” Angie sighed. “Why don’t you torture me instead of taking me shopping? It would be less painful.”

Trinity shook her head, her expression turning serious. “You only have one first marriage, Ange. If you’re lucky, only one marriage, period. You want it to be a day you’ll remember for the rest of your life.” She polished off the last of her cobbler and waved the purple-stained fork in Angie’s direction. “And that means the perfect wedding dress.”

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