Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(5)

“And lucky for us,” Antoinette said. “Poor Paul. His ulcer was spewing fire for a week.” She wrinkled her nose and speared a beet from her salad. Her husband worked at EllisIntel as well, in the vast financial divisions of the sprawling company.

Rashida patted my hand. “It will escape no one’s notice over there how valuable Drew is to their bottom line.”

I waited as the server set a Cobb salad with a side of balsamic vinaigrette in front of me. “You’re right about that,” I said, with a swell of pride for my fiancé. “It’s looking more and more like he’ll be made chief counsel, if not this year, then the next.”

“Lawyers marrying lawyers,” Antoinette mused. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your firstborn popped out with a briefcase and a legal pad.”

“We’re not going to have kids,” I said when the tittering laughter died down. “We’ve decided. Drew doesn’t want any and I…agree.”

Minnie gasped. “Really? You don’t want a baby? What about Drew’s family legacy? Doesn’t he want an heir?”

“An heir?” Lilah scoffed, though her almond eyes met mine with concern. “Did we suddenly become characters in a Bront? novel and no one told me?”

“We’re both too focused on our careers,” I said. “We work hard and want to spend our vacations enjoying the time off, not chasing kids around.”

“Except that you don’t take vacations,” Lilah began but Minnie cut her off with another shocked gasp.

“Darling, that’s what nannies are for!” Minnie cried. “I can’t imagine life without little Roger Jr! And we’re hoping to give him a sister soon.” Now it was her turn to pat my hand. “Give it a year or so. You’ll change your mind.”

Rashida looked to me. “Are you going to keep your bungalow in Santa Monica? I would. If for nothing else, it would make a perfect rental property.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m keeping it, but not to rent. Actually, I brought up with Drew the idea of selling it. As a gesture of commitment. A combining of forces, if you will.”

“And?”

“And Drew told me to keep it,” I said, not looking at Lilah. “For me. As a getaway for sorts. So that I might have time alone if I wanted it.”

“Good lord, that man is a saint,” Antoinette declared. “I must have him talk Paul into buying me my own bungalow. For alone time.”

“Good for him,” Rashida told me. “He recognizes you for the strong, independent woman you are.”

Minnie wrinkled her nose. “Seems a bit unromantic to me.”

“I second that,” Lilah muttered. The look she leveled at me promised that we’d be discussing this later.

I squared my shoulders. “Well, I’m glad he talked me out of it. I bought it myself and he reminded me how proud I was to do so. I don’t want to give it up just because I’m getting married, and don’t think I should.”

“Of course not,” Rashida said. “And should you find yourself in trying marital times—which you will—having a place to escape to is a luxury.”

“And precisely why it’s unromantic,” Minnie said, frowning.

I glanced at Lilah, ready to defend myself from the two-pronged attack when Antoinette waved her hand.

“Heirs and real estate aside. Engagements beget engagement parties.” She raised one perfectly arched brow at me. “Have you decided on a date? A venue?”

“Yes to both.” I said, thankful for the change of subject. I rummaged in my bag and produced a stack of invitations. “They go out today, but I may as well give you yours.”

“Paper!” Minnie exclaimed. “I’m so glad you didn’t send one of those tacky email things. These are so much classier.”

“But less practical.” Rashida scanned her. “Private dining room at Craft? Very nice.”

“Century City?” Antoinette sighed. “If I must. And in five weeks? That’s not a lot of time.”

“The next available reservation wasn’t until December.”

“No wonder! Craft is beyond superb,” Minnie cooed. “Roger took me to dinner there last month. Oh, Alex, this is just lovely. I can’t wait.”

“Thank you, Min,” I said. “We’re not inviting a horde of people. Family, close friends, Jon and Mr. Dooney from my office, and a couple of others from Drew’s office. And it has to be soon. With the wedding in five months, there’s not a lot time to spare.”

“How on earth you think you can plan a wedding in five months and still work the three hundred hours a week that you do is beyond me.” Antoinette fished a card out of her bag. “Call Patricia. She’s a miracle-worker. She did mine and Paul’s wedding and we only had eighteen months to plan.”

I waved the card away. “My mother has already hired someone. Aside from a few appointments and fittings, my schedule will remain blissfully unaffected.” I smiled and forked a piece of hard-boiled egg from my salad.

Antoinette’s normally unruffled expression turned to one of shock. “You’re letting your mother plan the wedding? Everything?”

“Of course not. I’ll be making the major decisions. Mother is just going to put it all into place.”