Page 63 of There Are No Words

I had been answering messages since we got in the car to drive to Jack and Quinn’s apartment over The Black Sheep. To be honest, I liked working because it helped get my mind off my own very real problems. And after the conversation we’d had back at our place, I didn’t really feel like talking to Brady. What was there left to say anyway?

I shrugged. “Fashion doesn’t sleep,” I said, acknowledging Brady’s statement as we got out of the car.

“Neither do people who work in the industry. Clearly.” Said he, who worked not only most nights (except lately), but also most days, dealing with administrative things for the pub.

“Social is a high priority to get people buzzing about the arrival of the next issue before it drops. That coupled with the fact that I’m still planning the anniversary party. . . yeah, there’s a lot to do and eight hours never feels like enough.” I fussed with the strap on my purse. “Plus, I like my job, so it doesn’t feel like work.”

“I get that.” He cleared his throat and pulled on the back of his neck. “I just want to make sure you don’t get burned out.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry about that. I’m a workaholic as much as Bibi’s a shopaholic.” To clarify, I added, “Big time.”

When we got to the apartment, Brady knocked on the door.

“Does Jack cook?” I asked, trying to change the subject and tuning into my growling stomach. Yeah, I guessed you could say I was hungry. Or Baby was hungry.

Brady snickered. “No. Not really.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Let’s hope he didn’t try his hand at it tonight, either.”

I widened my eyes. “That bad?”

Before Brady could respond, Jack opened the door and invited us in. I’d only met him and Quinn once before, but they seemed like good people. And Brady was related to Jack, so I believed that to be true.

“It’s nice to see you again, Allie,” Jack said, giving me a head nod. Then he turned to Brady and shook his head. “As for you, dude, I see you way too often. Your ugly mug is in my damn nightmares.”

Brady ruffled the top of his head. “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: you’re an idiot, bro.”

I couldn’t help as the corners of my lips turned upward at their brotherly banter. They reminded me of my sisters. There was something to be said about sibling fun, that was for sure.

“I’m glad we could do this.” I spotted Quinn, her back to us as she was dealing with something on the stove. “Hey, Quinn!” I shouted, trying to get her attention.

She turned around and brought a hand to her ear. She was wearing earbuds, apparently. That was probably why she hadn’t heard us come in. “Allie, how are you?” She placed the earbuds on the counter beside the stove and walked over to us, leaving the pan on the stove.

“Hungry,” I answered honestly and smiled. “Sorry, but it’s the baby.” I laughed. “Otherwise, I’m good. You?”

She swayed her head back and forth and then chuckled. “I’m married to this one”—she tilted her head toward Jack and grinned—“so there’s never a dull moment.”

I angled my head toward Brady. “I’m having a baby with this one. I understand you better than anyone.” I made my eyes go wide to drive my point home.

Brady and Jack laughed. “All right, all right,” Brady said, snaking an arm around my waist.

Man, I loved it when he touched me. Even the slightest touch from him made me tingle with desire. And now was so not the time to be thinking about riding his cock like a cowgirl who couldn’t be tamed.

“What are you cooking, Quinn? It smells great,” Brady went on, sniffing the air.

It hadn’t really smelled like anything when we arrived. She must have started cooking it just before we walked in. The smell was potent, to say the least. As was every smell during this pregnancy. Except this one was. . . this one was. . .

I cupped my hand over my mouth and tried my best not to gag.

I failed miserably.

“Are you okay?” Quinn inquired, probably realizing my face was pale.

I already knew I’d lost color in my face because that was exactly what happened before I wound up headfirst over the toilet.

I tried my best to fight the urge to run to the bathroom.

Brady cursed under his breath and tried to soothe my upset stomach by rubbing my back. It wasn’t helping, but I appreciated the gesture. “Allegra can’t handle the smell of chicken. It makes her sick.”

Nose plugs, now that was what I needed.

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