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But the love in her friends’ words filtered through all the misery anyway, and Trinity smiled for the first time in a long time. “Thanks. You guys mean the world to me, and I appreciate your support. You would have been well within your rights to tell me to stick my self-righteousness where the sun don’t shine when I got pregnant.”
Harper grinned. “I thought about it. You were pretty smug when you swore you’d never get knocked up. I should get a medal for not blabbing that fifty percent of all pregnancies are unplanned.”
“Statistically speaking,” Cass said drily, “I think the four of us proved that in spades.”
“Yet we still manage to run a multimillion-dollar company.” Trinity smiled because that was still amazing. “Even though we apparently suck at launching a secret revolutionary product.”
“Hey.” Cass scowled. “Your marketing proposal for Bloom is brilliant. We’re launching the formula on schedule despite numerous setbacks with first the leak to the industry about our unannounced product, then the legalities of the FDA approval process nightmare. We navigated the tainted samples and triumphed over the public smear campaign. Each of us according to our strengths. That’s how we started this business and that’s how we’ll keep on doing it.”
Flinging her red hair over her shoulder, Harper leaned forward with her pit-bull face on. “I wasn’t going to mention it since this is supposed to be a party, but since we’re on the subject, when I met with my staff earlier, I had an idea for how to catch our culprit. I’m pretty sure I know who it is. But I need everyone’s help to close the deal.”
“Like a sting operation?” Alex’s raised eyebrows reflected in her tone loud and clear. “We’re executives, not Charlie’s Angels.”
“But our lawyer already advised us we couldn’t go to the police because we didn’t have enough evidence,” Trinity argued. Honestly, the whole thing sounded like exactly what she needed to get her mind off everything else. Alex didn’t have to ruin all the fun with her logic and reason. “At least hear what Harper has to say.”
They bent their heads together and talked through Harper’s thoughts, which Cass insisted was more productive and beneficial than opening gifts containing clothes the baby couldn’t even wear until it was born.
Finally, they had a solid plan for how to deal with the hits their company had taken over the last year as they dared branch into a new product line. They were still four strong and would prevail.
Right after they made their plan, Cass, Harper and Trinity devoured the finger sandwiches and cakes Melinda, Fyra’s receptionist, had ordered for the party. They were all eating for two, after all.
Ten
Logan groaned and put a pillow over his head as his phone rang at the god-awful hour of...9:45 a.m.
How was it already almost ten? Did he have a game today? Was someone calling to see where he was? His brain would not connect any dots.
Juggling the phone into his hand, he launched out of bed. His big toe collided with the heavy wood nightstand, and when his foot jerked back automatically, his ankle crashed into the bed frame.
The curse he bit out wasn’t fit for a dive bar, let alone the caller on the other end of the phone.
“Logan Duncan McLaughlin.” His mother’s voice had that no-nonsense thing down pat. “I will personally come over there and wash your mouth out with soap if that’s how you’re going to talk to me.”
“Mom, please. I’m really not in the mood.”
His head hurt from the copious amounts of alcohol he’d poured down his throat last night after the Mustangs lost their third game in a row. And now he had matching aches on the other end of his body. Rubbing his throbbing toe, he sank back onto the bed and fought the wave of agony inside that was far worse than the physical discomforts.
No amount of alcohol could fix how miserable he was without Trinity.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t enjoy learning things about my son’s life from the internet.” Her tone softened a tad. “I saw an unconfirmed rumor that you and your maybe fiancée broke up. Is it true? Because if it’s not over, I still want to meet her.”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? It should be over. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her, missing her, wanting her.
He flung himself backward to stare at the ceiling in his master bedroom that was far too masculine for his tastes, but the decorator he’d hired had insisted that he’d like the heavy, depressing jewel tones and dark wood. Honestly, he suspected the only thing that would fix it was a woman with a penchant for bold fabrics and colors, who wasn’t afraid of slinging her particular brand of style around.
