Page 233 of Savage Bosses

“Too late.” She made a no gesture to the wine.

Chantel screamed, then poured herself more wine.

I hugged her. “Congratulations, girl. When are you due?”

She rubbed her pilate flat tummy that she had worked on for two years to get back after Marcus Jr. was born. He was in kindergarten.

“September.” She glowed with the ambiance of being happily married and having a family. If it weren't for the fact that I knew from personal experience that a village really did raise a child, I would be envious. I remember babysitting during couples counseling sessions and holding Brooke as she cried for seemingly no reason. Happiness came with work, but it was achievable.

“I say on labor day, this time we take the kids to baby boot camp,” Chantel suggested. “Brookelynn ran around like a maniac when MJ was born. I'm going to put those two to work as effective siblings.”

Brooke laughed. “I love you, two. It sounds great, and you will have two workers primed for when you—“

“Don't put that evil on me, Brookie Bobby,” Chantel quipped. “Becoming a first-time mother at forty-five is not how I plan to live my best single life. Being an auntie suits me fine.”

Brooke looked at me. Her gray eyes twinkled. “And what about your book boyfriend?”

“I'm on the pill,andwe used condoms.” Also, my ankles swelled, an indicator that my period would start any moment. There would be no secret babies for me. I planned for them to remain in the novels I read, not my life. “Besides, he's too much of a punk to be more than weekend booty. It's been two weeks and no response.”

Chantel smacked her lips. “Someone's feeling salty. Better drink that glass to clear up that thirst.”

I shot Chantel a look as Brooke went to my refrigerator.

She pulled out the orange juice. “Or you could just track him down on social media. Isn't he a margarita too? He might have your information.”

“Martini,” I corrected.

“We'll be drinking those too as we celebrate this one baking another human of excellence and mourning the pause of wine o'clock.” Chantel grabbed an oven mitt. “Answer the question.”

Ding.

The brownies were ready. “Warm brownies and wine. That’s an evening.”

“Your honor, the defendant refuses to answer the question. Permission to treat her like a hostile witness,” Brooke announced.

“Yes, he’s a Martini. What did you expect me to say?” I grabbed my phone. They had a point. I needed to lean in.

What would Victoria do?

Stalk him from afar. I opened the Instafame app.

“Oh, does that mean you're going to check him out?” Brooke crowded close to me.

“I want to see Book Bae too.” Chantel huddled close as we stared at my phone. I thumbed to a picture of the two of us in my feed. “Oh, is that him? Wait, that's you and him. Ooh-kay, I see that hook-up sex energy.”

“I love this,” Brooke replied.

There was a new pic on my feed, one of us at the ball. Someone tagged us with a caption, “The Water Queen and her king. Benedict and Victoria forever,” with a kiss emoji.

“I see you two hugged up on each other,” Chantel said. “And he couldn't bring himself to call, DM, or something. You’re both tagged in the picture. He can get in contact with you.”

“You’re a phenomenal woman,” Brooke chirped.

Chantel raised her glass in agreement. “Yass. Girl, do like Maya told you to and rise.”

I clicked the message icon. “I'm a badass. I don't need him to call me. I will make the next move, and after that, I'm moving on. I got what I came for—several times.”

“Oop.” Chantel gave me a scandalous look and then smiled at Brooke. “I think this one is growing up.”

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