and say what Mark did, but he was curious about what I’d done with Adam. Obviously word has gotten around. And it’s not even like I did anything extra freaky. You know the fucking rumor mill. Sure, there was that bartender … but that wasn’t my idea, and I was cornered into doing that.”
I notice that a woman is lingering near me and Claudia, clearly eavesdropping. I’m sure our racy conversation has intrigued her.
“Can I help you with something?” I say sweetly, and the woman quickly hurries in the other direction. When she is out of earshot I continue speaking to Claudia. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but please try to put it out of your mind. And for God’s sake, don’t blame yourself. What happened with Adam happened. Really, it’s not even that big of a deal. People just like to talk.”
“Especially in my circles.” Claudia takes a low-heeled sandal out of a box and slips her foot into it. She examines the way it fits her, then frowns and takes the shoe off. “Seriously, I need to get away.”
Her words give me an idea. Maybe that’s exactly what she needs—what we all need. “You know what? We should plan a trip.”
“Getting away will be nice … but I’ll still have to return home. Maybe I should go to Europe for six months.”
“And miss your goddaughter being born?” I say, shooting her a stare. “No way.”
“I know. I can’t do that.” Claudia forces a smile, but it’s weak. “I love you for caring. But I’ll be okay.” The grin widens, begins to resemble something genuine. “I will be, promise.”
I head back to my photography studio after my shopping break with Claudia. I have an elderly couple coming in an hour for fiftieth-wedding-anniversary portraits, an aspiring model after that. Not a very busy day.
It’s the kind of day where I have time to think, and that’s what I’ve been doing—thinking about Claudia’s offhanded comment about getting away.
Going on a trip—anywhere—will do her a world of good. Not to mention Lishelle. Getting out of Atlanta while the city is buzzing over Rugged’s engagement will be ideal for her. Especially since she sent me a text letting me know that she’s no longer interested in Damon.
Maybe we can go to one of those adults-only resorts. Sure, people likely head to places like that with hookups in mind, but there have to be at least a few happily-ever-after stories. And if the only thing that comes of the vacation is that my friends flirt, have fun, maybe even get laid … well, that’ll do a lot for their dismal states of mind.
I am sitting at my desk, pondering exactly what to do, when the door chimes sing. Whipping my head in that direction, I see one of my favorite people entering my studio.
“Hey, Jared,” I say as I rise to meet him.
“Hello, gorgeous.” His eyes lower to my belly. “Wow, look at you. Pregnant!”
“Five months.”
Jared hugs me. “Congrats.” And as we pull apart, he asks, “Have you set your wedding date yet?”
“Hmm.” My smile is pure saccharine. As much as I love Dom, I’m not sure I want to take another walk down the aisle. When you’ve had a marriage crash and burn, it makes you a bit wary of the institution. I was raised in a very religious household, and always believed marriage was the only way. But despite my ex-husband’s own Christian upbringing, he didn’t feel he owed me fidelity.
No, Dom and I don’t need to make it legal in order to be happy. Not that Dom necessarily shares my opinion. And his mother, an Italian Catholic, definitely wants to see us married before the baby is born.
“Not yet,” I tell Jared.
“Make sure I get an invite.”
“You know you will.” I playfully cut my eyes at Jared. Surely he hasn’t shown up to talk about my marital status. I wonder if he has good news for me. “Did you catch him yet? Wishful thinking, I know.”
Jared shakes his head. “No, sorry.”
No, of course not. Too much time has passed for that to be likely. “Then what brings you by?”
“I was in the area. Figured I’d check in on you. See that everything is okay.”
Jared has been checking in occasionally for the last five months, when there was a robbery at my studio. I wasn’t here at the time—thank God—but I came in one morning to find the place ransacked. Photos were trashed, and my most expensive camera equipment was stolen. When I called the police, Jared was one of two officers who came out to investigate.
“Everything’s good,” I tell him.
“I see that,” Jared says, eyeing my belly. “You never mentioned this the last time I was here.”
“I wanted to make sure I was far enough along before announcing it to the world.” I’m pretty certain that Jared developed a bit of a crush on me after our first meeting, which was why he showed up again just days later. He’s gorgeous—about six foot two, with caramel-colored skin, serious muscles in all the right places—and if I wasn’t happily involved, I’d absolutely have been interested in dating him. But, considering I am in a relationship, when Jared asked me if I wanted to get a coffee, I gently let him down. Right then and there, his flirting stopped. In fact, now he likes to tease me about when I’m going to marry Dom.
Jared’s respectful, which I like, a real decent guy. I have often thought that Jared might be perfect for Lishelle, but the timing was never right to introduce them.
But now …
“Still looking for that special someone?” I ask, an idea coming to me.
“Still single,” Jared confirms.
I tsk. “In a city like Atlanta overrun with available women, it’s hard to believe a guy as hot as you hasn’t found one to settle down with.”
Jared shrugs. “The women here—at least the ones I’ve run into—aren’t looking for something real. They care about the kind of car you drive, and what you’re going to buy them.”
“Superficial,” I say. And I can’t deny that what Jared says is true. I’ve seen it myself. Here, women are all about designer shoes, designer bags, high-end cars. I like pretty things as much as the next girl, but I’ve never been about being with a guy for what he can do for me financially.
“Been there, done that, and I’m not getting married only to get divorced again. I’d rather be single than settle.”
“Preaching to the choir, my friend,” I say. It’s the reason I haven’t wanted to jump into marriage with Dom. I love him, and he’s great to me. But there’s the little thought in my mind, the fear: What if something goes wrong?
Claudia and Lishelle tell me that I’m being overly paranoid, and point out that Dom is not Charles. I know they’re right. And now that I’m pregnant, Dom and I will be connected for life, whether we want that or not.
“Whatever happened to the brother you were supposed to bring by? You remember—you were supposed to do a photo shoot with him?”
“Right, right. Why don’t we set up an appointment. I’ve got time off coming in two weeks, so no excuse.”
“Wait. Did you say that you’ve got time off?”
“Ten days.”
My mind is churning with a sinfully delicious idea. “Any plans?”
“Other than rest and relaxation?”
“I mentioned to you that I want you to meet my friend. Lishelle—the one you’ve seen on the news?”
“Right.”
“And you have a brother. And I’ve got another friend.” I’m speaking more to myself now, the idea