Page 14 of Falling for the Enemy

“Jocelyn!” Wren stepped into the sunshine, cradling a small brown bag against her protruding belly.

Shit. Jocelyn quickly made sure her bags were efficiently closed and nearly broke an arm trying to hide them behind her back. “Hey, you... Wh-what are you doing out and about?”

“I’m pregnant, not bedridden. You’re the one who’s usually MIA this time of day.”

“Meh, I wanted to beat the crowds.”

Wren eyed her bags and frowned. “Are you redecorating?”

“Uh…”

Wren Wilde Hawthorne never missed a beat. Even at five and a half months pregnant, when most women would start feeling the strain, she was radiant and sharp as a tack. Jocelyn blamed it on all the organic greens she ate. The girl was a rabbit in human form.

“I’m just avoiding writer’s block,” Jocelyn lied, smashing the bags into a crumpled ball against her hip so none of the contents accidentally showed.

“What did you get?”

“Just crap for the house. How about you?” Jocelyn eyed the paper bag from Astrid’s store. It was likely just herbal teas, but she needed a distraction.

Wren glanced past the curve of her growing belly. “Nothing exciting. Ginger and peppermint tea to help with my morning sickness.”

“You know, I read somewhere that morning sickness is actually caused by the man’s sperm.”

“Really?”

“Yup. So you can thank Greyson for that. Another burden we bear for mankind.”

“We?”

Jocelyn waved away the hopeful look in her friend’s eyes. “You know what I mean. Women. All that shit about Eve coming from a rib is total crap. They came from our womb, not the other way around. And here we are, biblical eons later, still suffering their bullshit as a result of faulty sperm.”

Wren frowned. “Grey’s sperm isn’t faulty.”

“Obviously. But—” Realizing that her pregnant friend might actually have real concerns about the unborn child growing in her uterus, she stopped butchering the stupid factoid she read and simply said, “Never mind. You look great!”

“I feel like a bloated tick about to pop.”

“Oh, please. You’re glowing.” But the closer she looked, the more she noticed the stress hiding in the pinched lines around Wren’s eyes and the tightness of her mouth. Maybe that was more of a sweat-glaze than a glow.

She shifted her bags, the candles getting heavy.

“Oof.” Wren blinked and clamped a hand on her belly.

Jocelyn’s eyes widened. “Are you gonna hurl?”

“No. He’s kicking. Here. Feel.”

Wren snatched Jocelyn’s free hand and pressed it to her protruding stomach. A tiny thump beat against her palm.

She gasped. “Holy shit.”

“Told you.”

“That’s…crazy.” Something tender and unwelcome turned over in her chest. She pulled her hand away.

Wren’s gaze drifted back to Jocelyn’s bags. “What did you get from Paper Moon?”

“Craft supplies. I’m making a vision board.”