Page 102 of A Forgotten Promise

“Maybe.” She sits on the sofa in their penthouse, the light from the windows behind her creating a halo around her. “On the other hand, at least he’s so absorbed by your plans he isn’t on my case all the time.”

“What case?” I prop the phone on my nightstand and sit on the bed.

“You know all his smothering care, like do I eat regularly, do I sleep enough, did I take my prenatal vitamins? His love is overbearing sometimes. But the pregnancy sex is really good.” She takes a bite of a banana.

“Stop it. How many times do I need to tell you I don’t want an image of my brother having sex?”

But I’m far from thinking about their sex life. My mind wanders to the man who makes sure I eat regularly and take my iron supplement. It didn’t feel that overbearing. And it certainly wasn’t out of love. And yet, he cares. He cares?

“You know how your niece or nephew were made, don’t you?” She laughs.

“I’m hanging up.” I reach for the phone.

“No, wait, I’m bored. Let me help you choose your outfit,” she whines.

“I thought you didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“I deliveredourconcern, so I don’t have to lie to my husband. But I can’t wait to hear all the juicy details. If I wasn’t pregnant, I would be coming with you.” She shimmies her shoulders.

I laugh. “That would have been nice. Maybe after you give birth, we can both go.”

“Do you want Caleb to go to jail?”

“Over our sex club visit?”

“Over killing any man who looked at us while there.”

“Yeah, fair point. Ask him to take you,” I tease, but she doesn’t laugh it off.

“Maybe I will. Or I’ll take him for his birthday. Okay, scout it out for me. What are you wearing?”

God, I love her. Not only does she make my brother ridiculously happy, she has this easy-going flare about her that is contagious.

I pick up the black dress and pose for her. “This one is simple, but not boring.” I switch the dresses and hold the red one in front of me.

“Hm, both are a huge upgrade from your current hobo style.” She takes another bite of her banana.

Celeste is a walking-talking, ultimate classic-elegance personified. The woman missed her time by a few decades, because she would have been a perfect Golden Age movie star.

“Hobo? Again, I went to an animal shelter,” I protest, even though I ended up in the shelter by accident.

“Every day since you returned from Europe?” She raises her eyebrows. “When you were stopping by in between your jobs for a few days here and there, wearing comfy clothes and no makeup seemed like a reasonable choice. But you’re pushing that comfy style a bit too far now.”

“I hate wearing makeup,” I mumble.

“Do you hate plucking your eyebrows?” she deadpans.

“It’s just a phase. I like being comfortable.” Why am I defending myself? I can wear what I want. If I knew what I wanted. “Which dress should I wear?” I snap.

“Babe, all I’m saying is that it feels like you’re getting a bit too comfortable. Challenge yourself a bit.”

“In my closet?” I quip, but I know she’s no longer just talking about my wardrobe.

She sighs. “Wear the red one if you want to draw attention to yourself.”

“Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

“I think Corm had no right demanding you remove that post and then announcing the elopement. He’s breaking the deal, and I think he deserves to sweat a little. Is catching him in the sex club the best way to deal with the situation?” She shrugs.

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