Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(55)

“Aww,” I coo, melting. “Come here! All of you, come here.”

They do, wrapping me in their arms and soothing scent. Cloaked in the warmth of my friends’ embrace, I smile as Hobbes curls up against my feet. I’ve never felt safer or more at peace. Well . . . except for when I’m curled up in bed with a certain mountain of muscle.

“I have to ask,” Sara says once we’ve untangled our mess of limbs. “What’s going on with you and Grant?”

Elise chimes in before I can even open my mouth. “Yeah! Justin said he’d been housing all of your stuff in his fancy condo ever since you-know-who got demoted.”

“Good fucking riddance,” Bailey says.

I flash them all an appreciative smile. Agreed.

“Grant has been . . . a really, really good friend to me.”

“Just a friend?” Sara’s eyes narrow on me in that scary lawyer way.

Before I can come up with another non-answer, the door buzzes.

“That must be the pizza!” Elise says.

When no one makes a move to answer the door, I remember that this my apartment and that would be my job.

“Oh! I—I’ll get it,” I stammer, my cheeks warm. The other girls chuckle amongst themselves, but not in a mean way. I don’t mind the teasing, actually.

I’m digging through my wallet for small bills to tip the guy when I swing open the door.

“Hey, hold on one second—”

“Pizza’s here!” Becca bellows as she parades through the door, holding the pizza box high over her head.

I drop my wallet in shock, covering a gasp with my hands. “Becca?”

The women in the living room positively roar with laughter. Becca charges ahead and sets the pizza down on the coffee table before them, turning to take a bow.

“I thought you weren’t coming!”

“It was a surprise. I didn’t have time to buy you anything, so this is my present to you,” Becca says, gesturing to herself. Stepping toward me and placing two warm, pizza-scented hands on my shoulders, she gives me a very stern look. “Ana.”

I stand at attention, my eyes locked on Becca’s.

“I am an exhausted mother of a crazy newborn gremlin,” she says. “I’m tired and emotional all the time. I’m a walking corpse. But I’m also living proof that your life will not end when you have a baby. You will still go out, you will still have fun, and you will still have your friends at your side through it all.”

I choke on a sob, covering my face with my hands. What did I do to deserve these friends?

“You made her cry!” Elise says, mockingly accusing Becca.

“She’ll be fine.” Becca laughs, pulling me into her arms and rocking me from side to side.

Yes. She’ll be just fine.





24




* * *





Cherished





Ana



When I look down, I can’t see my toes anymore. My belly is so big, so full of life. It’s so big, in fact, that I had to call Grant to help me set up the crib. This baby is due in less than eight weeks now, and judging by the way she’s doing entire dance routines in there, she’s eager to make her entrance into the world.

I can only hope to match her level of energy when she’s no longer confined to my womb. Watching Grant put the crib together on the floor of the otherwise bare nursery, I remind myself that I won’t be alone.

“Can I help in any way?” I ask, nervously rubbing my belly. That’s a new thing, the belly rubbing. It’s almost compulsive at this stage.

“Absolutely not.” Grant grunts, poking his head out from under the wooden contraption with a sly grin.

My heart flip-flops. Pregnancy hormones have magnified all the attraction I have toward this man, and let me tell you, it is distracting.

“Okay,” I say, conceding for only a moment. “How about tea? Would you like some tea?”

Grant eyes me from his vantage point on the floor. Seeing how desperate I am to help, he nods. “I could drink some tea.”

“Caffeinated?”

“Whatever.”

“Coming right up.” I toddle off to the kitchen, happy to have a mission.

My phone sits untouched on the kitchen counter, abandoned, tossed aside after a tense call with Jason earlier today. I’d reached out, stupidly, to ask for his new Wisconsin address.

Earlier this week, the two paternity test kits I ordered arrived at my doorstep. I bought them on a whim . . . an emotionally unstable whim, perhaps. A big part of me doesn’t want to know who the biological father of this sweet, innocent child is. A big, cowardly part. And I can’t decide whether it’s because I want Grant to be the father, or because I don’t want Jason to be.

Months ago, when I told Jason over the phone that I was pregnant, his reaction was to be expected. Are you sure? How is that possible? Did you mess up your birth control? What am I supposed to do? I just moved here, do you expect me to move back?

After assuring him that I had it all under control and only reached out to him as a courtesy, I hung up, cried for an hour, and got the hell on with my life. But that’s not to say it’s been easy.

Everything sets me off these days, even well-meaning strangers when they make comments about how excited my husband and I must be.