Page 45 of Baby, Be Mine

They were not, in fact, milkshakes no matter what they did to doctor them up.

But I could eat mac and cheese until the end of time. Broke college food for the win—but Mason’s mac and cheese was better than the blue box, that was for sure.

I gave him a bright smile. “I really appreciate the dinner—or is it lunch? I don’t even know what time it is.”

He took the plates from me. “Linner?”

I laughed.

“I understand all about the in-between times.” He built the plates with the easy familiarity of a man who worked with food every day. One of the few jobs I hadn’t tried over the years. “Why I wanted to stop by before the dinner rush at the restaurant.”

I slowly sat down because that was my life right now. I’d managed to do a little pilates this morning to stretch my muscles, but I still felt like I was seventy years old.

“Are you here to soften the blow? That you found someone?” I laced my fingers in my lap. The sudden thought of losing the job I’d wanted so badly made the delicious food sit in my stomach like a kettlebell weight.

Not that he owed me anything.

I was learning that the hard way. Pierre had discarded me for the next shiny thing, even if that twit, Terri, had a quarter of my talent. Double my boobs, maybe, but not my talent.

The stage felt like a million years ago.

And so did Pierre.

What had I seen in his tweed blazer anyway?

“Emma?”

I shook off the memories of my old life. “Sorry. Just tired.”

He looked around in that sweetly overwhelmed way. “I should let you rest.”

I reached out and laid my hand on his. “No. I appreciate you stopping by. Even if it’s to give me bad news. I think you’re making a mistake.” I let him go and picked up my fork. “I’m the best thing your party boat will ever have.”

Bravado.

It was all I had right now. I’d learned that looking like I had everything together was better for everyone around.

I glanced at him through my lashes. That flush was back on his neck. Uncomfortable and not wanting to let me down? Or just downright uncomfortable because I’d literally tossed my kid into his arms and now he didn’t know how to get out the door without being rude?

“I’m still interviewing.”

“So, I still have a chance?” I forked up some pasta.

“Phased back to work is the preferred course of action.” Kitty piped up, her dark eyes serious as always. “That’s what I’ll be doing when I have my baby.”

Mason frowned. “What’s that?” Then his gaze darted down to Kitty’s middle. “Congrats?”

She bent her lips into an almost smile. Sometimes Kitty wasn’t sure how to handle the niceties of life. Why I loved her so much—you never had to worry about getting the truth out of her. Sometimes even if you didn’t want it.

“Thank you.” She tucked one of her unruly curls back into her messy bun. “I’m due at the end of the year. I’m an editor who mostly works at home, so I know it will be easier for me to go back to work—but it will be on an incremental basis. My husband was very specific on this. He knows I’d probably be working the next day.”

Mason cleared his throat. “Next day?”

She shrugged. “My work only requires a computer.”

I smirked at my plate and resumed eating. “Wait ’til you get to the baby brain part and get back to me.”

Kitty frowned. “Brain fog can be combatted with correct nutrition and cognitive games.”

---