Sure Shot (Brooklyn #4)(56)

“We should go inside, then.”

“Right!” I say, blinking. I grab my mug and head into the house, already wondering how long I’ll have to wait before the Baby Gap puts out the spring and summer collections.





The guest room is perfectly comfortable, and the house is quiet, but when I eventually turn in for the night, I can’t sleep. I lie in bed, my head a whirl of tangled thoughts. It occurs to me at some point that this bedroom will probably become the baby’s room. I picture Zara tiptoeing in here to check on her sleeping infant. Then I picture my brother doing the same thing.

I don’t know why Zara’s second pregnancy is hitting me so hard. Even before tonight, I’d wanted what they have. Nothing has changed, except for the better.

So why is it suddenly so difficult to breathe?





“Richie,” I say into the phone the next morning. “Take a breath.”

“But the coach hates me,” the young defenseman whines into my ear. “How many days are left before the trade deadline?”

“Lots of days,” I say soothingly. “Your job is not to try to guess what the coach is thinking. You can’t control the coaching staff. You can’t control your teammates. You can only control Richie Kristov. Open up your workout plan. Then go to the gym and get busy.” I glance up and give Zara an apologetic smile. It’s her morning off from work, and the two of us are sitting on her coffee shop’s new patio for breakfast and gossip.

“Okay,” he says with a sigh. “You’re right. I’ll stick to the plan.”

“That’s the way to do it,” I promise him. “Go drink a protein shake. Make yourself a to-do list of healthy habits and get busy. I’m counting on you.”

After a few more pats on the head, he finally signs off.

“Sorry!” I tell Zara. “That was just—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You’re so patient with them when they panic.”

“They just need someone to listen,” I say, putting my phone away. I grab my giant latte in two hands and gulp it straight into my soul. “So tell me everything. When is the baby due?” I force my mouth to make a smile shape. I don’t know why it’s difficult. Another baby in my life to snuggle? Sign me up.

Zara cocks her head. “May. The week before Memorial Day.”

“Oh! A summer baby. Great timing.”

“Yeah. Now I have a question for you.” Zara sets her cup down.

“Hmm?”

“How much did it cost you to ask me that question?”

Shit. I lift my giant mug and try to drown myself in it.

“I’m worried about you,” Zara says quietly.

“Whatever for?”

She gives me a look of mild disdain and picks up her cup of half-decaf again. “Because you’re not happy.”

“Who’s perfectly happy? I’m happy enough.”

Zara shakes her head slowly. “You are very good at faking it. But I know you want more than what you have. How’s your life plan going?”

“It’s…going,” I hedge. “Slowly.” The truth is that Tank has derailed all my planning. And I hadn’t even had the courage last night to tell my brother I was dating him.

Zara looks me in the eye. “Bess, it’s time we had a performance review. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to be your agent.”

“What?”

“That kid Richie Kristov has you, right? Well, you have me. I’ll be the voice on the phone who asks for a full accounting. Now tell me—have you been dating? Wasn’t that Chapter One of your plan?”

“I did a little dating, yes.”

“I see,” Zara says. She gives me a sage nod, but her eyes twinkle. “Well, that’s a good start. You’ll keep it up, right? You can’t make the right guy appear. But you can control your own attack.”

“Oh my God, Zara. You’re a little too good at this.”

She cackles. “Now let’s talk about Chapter Four.”

Oh, hell. Sharing my five-year plan with her was a tactical error. “I have made no progress on Chapter Four.”

“But you told me two months ago that you were going to make the first appointment. What happened there?”

The appointment she’s referring to is another secret of mine. I’d decided to make preliminary inquiries with a fertility specialist, just in case I decided to have a child without a man in my life.

“I’m not ready for that, as it turns out. Other, uh, things have kept me busy.”

Zara’s dark eyes double in size. “Really. What things?”

I look over both shoulders to make sure my brother hasn’t snuck up on us somehow. I’m dying to get this off my chest. “There’s this guy. He’s terrific. But he’s not in the right stage of life to settle down.”

She leans forward. “What stage is he in?”

“The just-got-divorced stage,” I admit at a near-whisper. “He said he’s never getting married again.”

“Does he have kids?” Zara whispers back.

I shake my head. “They were married for—” I do the math. “Five years. Or almost six.”