Page 438 of The Winslow Brothers

After crossing the street as fast as my waddling hips will let me, I wipe the dampness from my hands on the straight line of my maternity pencil skirt and face the real estate music. “Mrs. Allistair!” I call her attention, jumping up on the curb with a spryness I definitely don’t feel and sticking out my hand for her to take. “So good to see you again.”

“Does this building have on-site parking?” she asks instead of greeting me back and completely ignoring my outstretched hand.

I smile and cock my hand back to my hip. It’s always the rudest clients with the deepest pockets. Every insult or dismissal might as well be a dollar sign.

“Yes. There’s an underground garage with twenty-four-hour valet and security. You won’t have to worry at all.”

“Good,” she says with a nod and an almost-smile.

Ah, she’s warming slightly.I, however, am well past warm. If I wrung out my bra, I could probably fill a freaking bathtub.

“What about a concierge?”

“There’s no official concierge, but the front desk manager Lukas has assured me that he handles many tasks for the residents of the building as an inclusion in your monthly fees.”

“I suppose that would do.” She doesn’t look back as she heads for the front door of the building, and the doorman jumps to pull it out of her way. I smile gratefully and mouth a silentthank you, and he just nods and offers a secret, knowing grin in response.

Obviously, he’s used to entitled people.

Lukas is standing behind the front desk in the lobby, but he moves swiftly to push the elevator button for Mrs. Allistair while I hold out a hand and shake his. I’ve spoken with him several times prior to showing this apartment, and he’s always been the epitome of helpful and considerate. He’s the reason we’re able to get into this apartment while the owners are away on vacation.

“Lukas. Thanks so much for meeting us. This is Mrs. Allistair. Mrs. Allistair,” I call, garnering her attention just enough that she turns to barely glance over her shoulder. “This is Lukas. The front desk manager of the building.”

She doesn’t recognize him with anything other than a blink of her eyes, and still, Lukas smiles. I take it as a good sign that the staff of this building has as many years of customer service under their belts as I do. At this point, rudeness just washes off me.

The elevator door opens with a prestigious ding, and Lukas gallantly jumps to stick his arm across the door to hold it while we enter. The mere idea of getting inside another elevator makes me hesitate for a brief moment—it has every single time I’ve done it for the last month—but I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and step inside.

Call me crazy, but getting stuck inside an elevator for a few hours in the middle of a New York blackout while you’re pregnant doesn’t exactly make you excited to step inside a cramped cart.

Sure, I’ve been in dozens of elevators since, and clearly, the time I got stuck turned out okay, but that was because the kind of man who might as well be a modern version of Prince Charming just so happened to be inside. Surely that can’t happen every time, just as frogs don’t really transform with a kiss.

Well, itcouldhappen again. But only if you’d call him.

Despite my inner voice’s urgency, it’s pretty damn obvious why now isn’t an optimal time to get in touch with Remington Winslow again. I mean, what’s he going to do? Help me figure out how to use a breast pump while I have a newborn crying over our attempts at chitchat?

Yeah. No thank you. No one deserves that kind of chaos in their life. Especially not Remy.

As the elevator starts to make its journey up the building, I take several deep breaths and concentrate on getting myself together. I’m sweating profusely despite the crisp breeze of air conditioning, and my lower back is so tight it feels like I’ve rammed a rod inside it. Mrs. Allistair’s inspection of this place will no doubt be swifter than some of my other buyers, but I’m still going to need to slap on a smile and walk her through.

Unfortunately, my belly decides it’s the perfect time to tighten in a way you can see through my silk blouse, and I inhale a sharp, deep breath through my nose and release it out of my mouth as quietly as I can.

You’re fine, Maria. You’re fine. It’s just a summer pregnancy. Millions of women deal with this every day.

I find a place of calm inside myself and smile over at Lukas, whose eyebrows have now pulled together in concern as he stares at my protruding, hard belly. I wave him off silently from my position behind my client and shake my head.

I’m good. Really, I’m good. Any woman who is full-term pregnant in August looks like this, I swear.

As the elevator opens on the top floor of the building, Lukas presents his arm again but this time doesn’t move with us.

“I’ve unlocked the door for your ease of entry and will be downstairs if you need anything.Anythingat all. Please, don’t hesitate to call for me,” he tells me gently as I follow Mrs. Allistair off and to the door across the hall. She opens it withoutpause, and I have no choice but to follow, smiling and waving at Lukas as I go.

Once inside, I kick off my shoes and start flipping on light switches as fast as I can. “This is the formal living room and parlor, and another living area is down the hall, adjacent to the kitchen.”

“Window cleaning?” Mrs. Allistair asks brusquely.

“Once a week.”

She nods then, clomping down the hallway in her heels without even considering removing them.

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