Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Even now her baby girl’s name pricked Kerris’s heart, though less each day. Amalie would always be her first child. She might always mourn her in small ways on unexpected days, but this joy sat right alongside that pain as a comfort; as a reminder of life moving forward and getting better.
“I will never forget her, but I look at it like this.” Kerris touched her stomach, a smile dawning slowly on her face. “Our kids are lucky because they’ll have a big sister up there looking after them their whole lives.”
Walsh leaned in and dropped a kiss on the one tear that slipped down her cheek and watered her smile.
“That’s right, baby. They will.”
They sat there on the counter, dreaming about the little life already growing inside of her, punctuating the hollow silence in the bathroom with husky laughs and whispers. Kerris allowed them to bask in the glow for as long as she could before she reminded him that she still had work to do. Kerris hastily dressed so she could head downstairs. She shook her head, smiling at Walsh sitting on the bed, one pant leg on, one off, staring down at the two stripes declaring him a daddy.
* * *
“Walsh, stay out of that stuffing.” Kerris opened the oven to check the turkey, flashing him a mock frown.
“You know what they say about idle hands.” Walsh pressed his chest to her back, sandwiching her between his body and the stove.
“Could these hands”—Kerris turned around and shifted his hands from her hips—“set the table for me? Everyone’ll be here soon, and I still have a few things to do.”
“When will we get some help around here? You know, a maid, a cook.”
“You’re looking at ’em, buddy.” She sampled the broth boiling on the stovetop, offering him an impish grin. “I want to do things for us for as long as I can. I want to make this a home and take care of you. I don’t need someone else doing it.”
“Kerris,” he said, his face sobering. “I’m serious. Especially, now that you’re pregnant, I don’t want you handling things by yourself.”
“What else will I do?”
“Well, between the work you’ve started doing with the foundation, the Riverstone Collection, and running Déjà Vu long distance—”
“I would hardly call scouring the city every once in a while for stuff I can send back to Rivermont ‘running’ Déjà Vu.” Kerris popped a sweet potato pie in the oven. “Thank God Mer has help now. I feel so guilty sometimes leaving her and Mama Jess handling everything without me.”
“We’ll have to postpone that trip to Kenya.” Walsh looked over his shoulder from the dining room. He pulled the china from the hutch.
“Walsh, no.” Kerris stepped out of the kitchen and into the dining room, frowning and wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Pregnant women can travel all the way up to the last trimester.”
“Not my pregnant woman, not to Kenya.” Walsh’s tone brooked no argument. “There’ll be plenty of time later.”
“I enjoyed our trip this summer so much,” she said. “We can squeeze in a quick trip in the next couple of months.”
“Ker, no,” he said, quiet and firm, not looking up from the place settings he was laying down.
“Walsh, but I—”
“No, babe.”
Kerris recognized his boardroom stare, and hoped he didn’t think she was fooled. She knew he couldn’t deny her anything she ever wanted, even though she never abused the fact.
She smiled with gamine persuasion, moving to answer the doorbell.
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“We will not—” Walsh cut himself off, shaking his head and smiling.
Kerris could already tell this pregnancy would be a tug of war between them. Her always wanting to press the limits, and him determined she’d get nowhere near the edge of them.
“Kerris!” Jo gave Kerris a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek before pulling back so they could give each other once-overs.
“Jo, you look amazing.”
And she did. Jo’s trademark chestnut angled bob had grown longer, the ends hanging like silk around her shoulders. Her model’s body seemed even fitter than the last time Kerris saw her. Her skin, smooth and creamy, glowed from the winter cold. Kerris didn’t know which designer had made the chocolate-colored leather dress Jo was wearing, but it seemed to have been sewn along the curves of her body like a layer of expensive skin.
“Jo, what I wouldn’t give to have a butt like that.” Kerris gave her own slim-for-now curves a quick glance.
Jo looked over her shoulder as if to check and make sure the junk was still beautifully in the trunk.
“We all get a little something.” Jo laughed, patting her own ass. “Or in my case, not so little. You look great, as always. New York is treating you fine.”
“I’m treating her fine.” Walsh strode into the foyer to hug Jo, too. “How’s it going, cuz?”