Page 89 of Filthy Twisted Devil

“Not yet,” Nate says. “I’m considering making her an offer, though. She’s terrifying.”

Inside, Cat sits in the king-sized bed, surrounded by a pile of soft pink blankets. Her blonde curls are gathered into a messy ponytail, and her face is flushed and glowing with happiness. She looks up and smiles at us.

“Hi, everyone,” she says quietly. “I’d like you to meet Sylvie Rose.”

Under the midwife’s watchful eye, we all keep our cooing at a low level. Sylvie wiggles in Cat’s arms, her tiny mouth opening in an adorable yawn.

“She’s perfect,” Pippa sighs.

“Sylvie Rose,” Maura says, sounding like she’s savoring the syllables. “Beautiful—and French, of course.”

“There’s no way you’re going to let me enter her in baby pageants, are you?” Ryan says. “Because she’d sweep—just saying.”

“She doesn’t need a crown,” Cat says with a laugh. “Even though I’m pretty sure Nate already bought her one, anyway. By the way, how many doctors did Nate have hidden away upstairs?”

Nate scowls. “Who told her?”

“Nobody. I just know my husband.” Cat smiles. “I’m happy you took care of it, and happier that we were able to do things my way.”

Nate ducks his head and kisses Cat on the forehead. “I am, too. I would do anything to give you what you want, Kitten.”

The tender display makes all the couples move slightly closer. Ryan wraps his arms around Pippa’s waist while Maura leans against James’s shoulder. Beau and Brinley reach for each other’s hands.

Across the room, Eden gazes at baby Sylvie with tears shining in her hazel eyes. And even though I’ve never thought about having kids before, suddenly I see them. Babies with my hair and Eden’s impossible eyes, running through the fields back at Locke Ranch or cuddling with her while we read books in my apartment.

The image should scare me, but as Eden’s eyes meet mine across the room, all I feel is how much I wish it could be real.

37

EDEN

The pile of folded clothes on my bed has gotten dangerously tall. When I add a folded white T-shirt to the top, it looks ready to topple over.

I tend to be an overpacker at the best of times. I anticipate everything that could possibly necessitate a change of clothing—cold snap, sudden rain storm, unexpected fancy dinner, surprise pool party—and pack accordingly. I've broken the zippers on two different suitcases trying to fit everything in.

In this case, though, I don't think it's possible to overpack. I'll be in Sundre for the five weeks before the wedding, and there aren’t a lot of stores within driving distance to pick up whatever I might forget.

With Beau’s status as a public figure, Brinley's wedding will bring a lot of PR for Flair Events. When I told my boss I planned to leave for the wedding so early so I could do the on-site work, she practically shoved me out the door. I'll work on all my other projects remotely.

Of course, it doesn't escape me that Brinley's wedding will be great for my portfolio, if I ever decide to strike out on my own.

That's far down the road, though. I don't have time to contemplate my long-term career plans with the mountain of work I have to do. My flight takes off early tomorrow morning. Once I land, I'll be right in the thick of it, finalizing vendor contracts, arranging a site visit with the caterer, figuring out the tent rental that I've been pricing out for three weeks. I typed up a checklist, but I don't really need it. I'm able to keep all this stuff in my head.

I'm deciding whether I really need to pack three pairs of sneakers when my phone buzzes. I smile when I see that girl group chat notification. We've all been texting each other more than ever, mostly to coo over the adorable baby photos of Sylvie and Hazel. The newest text is a picture of Hazel with her chubby little fist clutching a paintbrush.

Maura

Working on her masterpiece.

Pippa

Wow, so young and yet so talented.

Brinley

She obviously inherited Mom's talent. She'll have her finger paintings hanging at the Whitmer by the time she's five.

Pippa