Page 74 of Kandi's Crush: A BWWM Sweet Billionaire Romance

“I like it. Which bedroom? The one closest to the master bedroom makes sense. We have plenty of time because the baby will sleep in the bassinet in their bedroom for a while.”

“Mother . . .” Kandace groaned.

“Sorry. I’ve crossed a line. Tell me when to stop.” Celeste raised her hands. When Kandace’s scowl turned into a smile, Celeste laughed and brought her daughter in for a hard hug.

Kandace

“I don’t know, Marie. It looks like it is moving side-to-side. What do you guys think?” My mother kneeled on the side of the sectional while I lay flat on my back. She’d threaded a gold necklace through my wedding band and dangled the two over my swollen belly, watching as the necklace moved in circles.

The first barbecue of the season had turned into an impromptu baby shower. My close friends and family surrounded us while my mother used an old wives’ tale to predict the sex of our child.

Each woman had different predictions. Keely, Natasha, Mama, and Genevieve all hoped for a boy. Marie-Therese, Goody, Kenya, and Simone wished for a girl. I just wanted relief from pregnancy and an end to the constant indigestion and back pain. And the exhaustion. And the bladder abuse.

“Ms. Alexander, I agree with Marie-Therese. The ring is definitely moving in circles. I think it’ll be a girl.” Kenya cocked her head to the side and stared intently at the necklace.

“Mother St. Clair always believed if a little boy shows an interest in your pregnant belly, you’re having a girl.” Genevieve said.

“Come here, Mikey.” I turned over and held my arms out toward my son. His big hazel eyes stared blankly at me.

Genevieve smiled at him and leaned close to whisper, “Go pat your mother’s tummy.” She nudged him, and he shook his head and took two steps backward.

We had been one month shy of celebrating our first wedding anniversary when a hazel-eyed incendiary force of nature had screamed his way into our lives. Michael Alexander St. Clair arrived with so much intensity we weren’t sure he was our son.

Our curly-headed, auburn-haired boy had spent the first eight months of his life going from mad to calm and back at the flip of a switch. Now, he was a few months away from officially hitting the terrible twos, and his new favorite word was no.

Our son was the spitting image of his father. Not only did he look like Chadwick, but he also soaked up all of Chadwick’s mannerisms and personality. His penis, girls, and food fascinated him.

“No,” he answered definitively, his eyes sparkling with laughter. Genevieve nudged him again, but he turned and buried his face in her knee. “No. Gran-Gran.” Much to Chadwick’s amusement, our son insisted on calling Genevieve, Gran-Gran.

“This little one is truly not interested, so I think we have another boy on the way!” Genevieve cheered and clapped her hands. One side of the room groaned, and the other side cheered with her.

“My grandmother believes that if the woman craves meat, cheese, or salty foods, then it’s a boy. Last week, Kandi inhaled a half-pound cheeseburger. It sickened me. It was like something out of National Geographic. Her hands were constantly moving. Very animalistic. Almost primal,” Natasha interjected.

“I thought the doctor said you should watch your diet. I don’t think you should eat so much meat,” my mother said. She studied me and I immediately knew that she noticed my unexpected weight gain with this baby. With Michael I hadn’t gained a lot, but this baby craved meat, cheese, and salty foods. The foods that supposedly pointed the sex toward a boy.

“Thanks, Natasha,” I said, a heavy dose of sarcasm filled my tone. I patted my mother’s hand. “She said I could have some indulgences in moderation.”

After twenty-four years of motherhood, my mother had a hard time not smothering me. Now, however, I didn’t view her interference as edicts but as suggestions and concerns.

At least her attention was no longer focused solely on me. She had two additional people to lavish her special brand of love on. She thought Michael’s hair was too long and that his high energy level was because of the occasional cookie or cup of juice. She casually mentioned that Chadwick’s interval workouts made him too thin. She was concerned that he wasn’t eating enough calories and decreed it was my responsibility to fatten him up. She also mentioned that I should incorporate meat substitutes into my pregnancy diet.

I righted myself on the sofa, and my mother and I both turned our attention to Marie-Therese. Marie had taken residence at the cheeseboard and had stuffed her mouth with slices of prosciutto and cheese.

“Marie-Therese, it’s your turn to hop on the sofa. Well, after you’re done eating all the crackers and cheese,” my mother laughed.

“No. It’s too soon.” My aunt’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. She looked down at her stomach. “Besides, I’m not showing.” The pregnancy was a surprise to everyone, including Marie-Therese and her boyfriend, Beckham. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with our friends and family knowing about the pregnancy before the second trimester. She constantly worried about the health of the baby since the day the doctor let it slip that she was rapidly approaching advanced maternal age.

My mother peered over at her. “Says who? We see that big old belly.” She laughed affectionately.

Shortly after Michael’s birth, I’d begun working at St. Clair Real Estate Investments. The company was a separate entity of St. Clair Enterprises, and Chadwick served as the Chief Executive Officer. The company had a small team of real estate professionals who bought, sold, and flipped properties. I was the Chief Financial Officer. My job was to scrutinize finances and keep my husband’s pet projects within budget and on time.

During the restoration of our home, he’d gone over budget by hundreds of thousands of dollars. The house was gorgeous, and the quality of the construction was impeccable. I didn’t mind the overage for our personal home, but the lack of discipline in spending could make a profitable project turn unprofitable. So, he asked me to join the company to manage the contracts, research suppliers, and document the corporate financials.

Chadwick also presided over St. Clair’s board of directors. After years of pressure to take over the company, my father-in-law and Chadwick negotiated. Chadwick agreed to attend quarterly board meetings and provide input on the direction of St. Clair Enterprises, but he would not take his father’s place as CEO.

The French doors leading to the deck opened. On his way to the kitchen, Chadwick peeked into the living room.

“Did I hear correctly? It’s a boy?” He grinned.

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