Page 48 of Baby, Be Mine

My lips twitched. “Gonna tell them?”

“I don’t know. I might just let you surprise them on Monday.” He grinned and looped the handles of the now empty bag on his shoulder. “I’m really glad you guys are okay.”

“Thanks, Mason.” My voice was rough with emotion. My crazy emotions were always just a half step away from tears or mania these days.

I really couldn’t wait for my hormones to level out. For both of our sakes.

I started to rise and he waved me off. “I’ll show myself out.” He glanced at Kitty. “Thanks for taking care of her. I feel much better knowing she’s got people here with her.”

Kitty tilted her head. “People and cats too. I’m trying to convince her to adopt. Cats are far better caretakers than humans ever could be. If not stinkier at times.”

I covered my face with my hands. “No kittens. At least not yet.”

“Pets are good for babies. Teaches them responsibility.” She folded her arms and peered up at Mason. “Do you have a pet?”

“Me? I work too much.”

I hid a smile behind my hand at the panic on his face.

“Right. Anyway. I have to go.” He glanced at me. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” I wiggled my fingers at him before he flew out the door.

“You gotta stop foisting kittens off on people, sis.”

“Never.” She popped a piece of barbecue in her mouth. “So many need homes.”

And then she proceeded to give me her usual dissertation about the extreme need for fosters. I just let her go on. Kitty was nothing if not passionate about animals. And she loved my big brother with her whole heart.

That was good enough for me.

TEN

Sundays were for catching up.This particular Sunday required a helluva lot more recovery than most.

Starting with the pile of invoices mocking me. I usually tried to keep up with them throughout the week. However, now I had a party cruise without a director and half a dozen clients lined up with summer plans.

Now that Jared and Gina were doing their big pre-wedding party on the boat, I’d had to jump in with some of my own ideas since I was the best man.

My email program pinged with a new message. Of course it was from Emma. She’d been sending me emails since I left her apartment. Most of her notes contained amazing ideas, though some were definitely out of budget.

It made me wonder just what kind of family life she came from. I got the feeling she had a big family, but she was pretty short on the details. But there was a distinct tinge of money in some of the ideas she had.

“Like ten cases of mason jars,” I muttered as I skimmed her email. It was a theme for my restaurant and for the mural on the side of the boat, but the ones she found were classier somehow.

She even thought of fixtures for the boat and for the dock.

I scribbled a few notes on my blotter littered with post-its. I had a vendor that might be able to get the jars at a lower cost. And being friendly with John Gideon from all the renovations I’d done over the years gave me another angle.

I forwarded the email to Gideon to see if he could get the wiring done early the following week. I wasn’t sure he worked on boats, but he had an extensive crew who did just about everything in the handyman and contracting game.

My head was throbbing by the time I finished paying my invoices. Since my books were more in the black than the red, I counted it as a win.

I wandered out of my office to look for something to eat. Sundays were dinner only for the restaurant, but it was often the day that Henry was the most creative. I was hoping he’d have something for me to pick at.

Gillian was perched on a stool at the skinny table we kept in the kitchen for staff to eat at during the down times. As usual, she had a snack plate in front of her that would barely feed a toddler.

She was on a perpetual diet.

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