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I blinked at her. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I thought you researched everything.”
“I research topics that interest or impact me.” I tugged on my cuff. “If I had known about this, I would have done some reading. Since I had to hear the news from Luca—”
She shook her head. “Iknewhe told you. I wonder how long it would have taken you to notice if he hadn’t.”
“We’ll never know.” I eyed her stomach. Her poor sweater would never be the same. She should have bought new clothing that fit. She would certainly have to soon. She’d probably been too busy to take care of it yet, which I understood.
“Pregnancy is normally around forty weeks. That means I have eight more weeks, give or take.”
“Give or take? Why isn’t it more precise? Surely medicine is advanced enough to give you an exact date.”
She did the thing where it was obvious she had something to say but rolled her lips over her teeth instead.
The hand on my leg balled into a tight fist. Her reticence to express herself fully drove me mad when it truly should have been a relief. I didn’t understand why it bothered me so much, but it did.
“I’ll have someone to cover for me. You don’t have to worry about that,” she replied.
I closed my eyes, shuddering at the thought of having to get used to someone else. Catherine had made it easy for me. That wasn’t usually the case with my assistants.
“Make sure of it,” I uttered more harshly than intended. Fuck, this was a nightmare. I didn’twanta different assistant. Catherine, despite her one annoying trait, had been the best I’d ever had.
“Of course, Elliot.”
I opened my eyes at her sharp tone. She’d already picked up her tablet, focusing on whatever she had been doing before I interrupted her. Which was good. We both had a lot to do, and it appeared we’d be stuck in this car for a while.
If I were alone, I would have said fuck it and walked back to the office. Since the last thing I wanted to do was send Catherine into early labor, we’d stay here, where the seats were soft and cushioned and there was no chance of a squalling infant making an appearance.
Chapter Five
Catherine
Therewasamanbehind my desk doing something to my chair.
I hated that chair with its bar running up the middle; I was fairly certain it would impale me if I shifted the wrong way. But still, it was mine.
My steps picked up speed, intent on defending my chair. But as I drew closer, the butter-like leather and plush cushions came into focus. It wasn’t my chair at all.
My exhaustion from a night of interrupted sleep—Baby Girl also thought my sleep time was her party time—muddled my thoughts. It took me a moment to realize this was a delivery guy, not some random man off the street.
“Hi,” I called as I approached my desk.
He looked up from the plastic wrap he must have just removed from the chair. “Good morning, ma’am. Is this your desk?”
“It is.” I stopped on the side opposite him. “Did I get a new chair?”
“Looks like it.” He gave it a pat. “The whole floor got new chairs this morning. Top of the line. Come test it out.”
He seemed harmless. Almost grandfatherly. That didn’t mean he was, but I took my chances. The chair really did look nice, and my feet already hurt. Or maybe they hadn’t stopped.
Circling my desk, I placed my bag on top and took a seat.
Luxury.
Like sitting on a pile of clouds.
No danger of being impaled, and the leather didn’t squeak when I moved. Instead, it cupped my ass like the hands of angels.
