Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(49)

“I told you she wasn’t shy,” AJ said.

It was Claire’s turn to say something he couldn’t understand.

When Sasha laughed, he knew it had to be good.

“Ever feel like you’re the butt of a joke, AJ?” Wade asked.

“Every day this week.”



There had only been a handful of times that Sasha had been in Trina and Wade’s home. Every time except one, Sasha had been part of the security detail policing the place. The other time was shortly after Lilliana was born. Even then, Sasha couldn’t bring herself to stay longer than a couple of hours. Hours that she watched from the sideline while Trina and Wade accepted congratulations from family and friends.

Sasha and Trina were family by circumstance, not blood. A fact Sasha told herself often when she was face-to-face with the woman.

Yet here she was watching the sky change colors from a private balcony on Trina and Wade’s ranch. It was hard to admit how well she’d rested the night before. They’d gone to bed long after midnight and here it was almost nine in the morning, and Sasha had just climbed out of the shower.

Unheard of.

She pulled out her stash of clothes and selected the cleanest pieces to wear. Laundry was in order . . . or a trip to a store. Not that there was time for that.

After tidying the room and piling up her clothes, Sasha tied her hair back and walked through the quiet house to find some coffee.

Noise from the kitchen told her she wasn’t alone.

“Is that good?” Trina said in a high-pitched voice.

Poised in a high chair and shoving a fistful of what looked like Cheerios into her mouth was Lilliana.

At least that’s what Sasha assumed. She hadn’t seen the girl since she was a newborn. And that was nearly a year ago.

“She got big.” And beautiful. But then that was a given considering Trina was a cross between the angelic girl next door and model beautiful. Her Latin American heritage gifted her curves in the right places and perfect skin. And Wade . . . the man may not have been Sasha’s flavor, but he sure did fill out a pair of blue jeans.

“I know, right? I go to bed, and when I wake up, it’s like she’s a different person.”

Lilliana giggled around her full mouth and waved a chubby fist in the air.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did.” Really well. Sasha crossed to the coffeepot and helped herself.

“Oh, let me help you—” Trina started to stand up.

“I’ve got it. Is everyone else still in bed?”

“Oh, no. Wade is out there somewhere with AJ. And Neil has already jumped on the computer and started barking orders to his guys.”

That sounded about right. “And Claire?”

“Haven’t seen her yet. She’s a sweet girl.”

Yeah, she was. And witty. The girl made her want to laugh. Except for some reason Sasha had spent her entire life trying not to. As if laughter was somehow a display of weakness.

She sat in Trina’s kitchen, watching the joy on Lilliana’s face, and wondered what it would feel like to laugh so freely.

Who had told her laughter was a weakness?

Sasha tried to smile . . . knew she sucked at it.

“Are you okay?” Trina asked.

“I’m fine.” Am I?

Trina faked a smile to say she didn’t believe her, and they both pretended all was good.

“Claire needs a safe place to stay while we clear up everything legal.”

“Neil said the same thing. She’s welcome here. You know that.”

Sasha lowered her gaze. “Thank you.”

Lilliana’s laughter turned to a cry and Trina snapped into Mom mode. “What is it?”

As if the baby could tell her.

Trina fussed with the high chair and unfastened the belt around her waist. “C’mere.” She patted her on the back once Lilliana was in her arms and started to shift from foot to foot.

Three steps in and the baby stopped fussing.

Trina was a natural.

“You make that look easy,” Sasha found herself saying.

“It’s not. Lord knows I wish it was.” Trina repositioned her baby on her other shoulder and that’s when all hell broke loose. As in Lilliana decided breakfast didn’t agree with her stomach and she tossed all her cookies on Trina’s chest.

Trina stopped moving. “Oh, boy.” She looked at her daughter. “I bet you feel better.” Trina grabbed a towel lying on the kitchen counter and wiped her baby’s face.

Lilliana seemed oblivious of the mess she’d just created.

Trina, on the other hand, lifted Lilliana away from her chest and looked at Sasha. “Can you . . . while I clean this off?” she asked.

And without approval, Trina handed Sasha the baby, barely giving her enough time to put her coffee cup down. “I, ah . . .”

“I’ll be right back. I’m sure she’s done puking.”

And Trina was gone.

Alone in the center of the kitchen, Sasha held a human who was less than a year old.

Lilliana regarded her with a similar expression to her own. One that said, Who the hell is this and what am I supposed to do with them?

Only Lilliana had a better grip on what to do. She reached out with her chubby, albeit sticky, hand and grabbed Sasha’s nose.