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“Really?” She sounded surprised.
I scoffed, moving back to hold the door open, letting her in. “You have no idea.”
“You can tell me about it over cake.” She headed for the kitchen, and I followed, taking a seat at the table as Mina brought over plates.
She cut into the cake, and I swear to God, it squeaked.
As she placed my slice down in front of me, I inspected it. It looked okay. I kind of wanted to lean down and smell it, but Mina appeared so proud of herself that I just couldn’t do it. She watched me closely with such optimism in her eyes that I went for it. I stabbed a small piece of cake, brought it up, and peered at it a moment, then placed it into my mouth, and chewed slowly.
When I didn’t spit it out immediately, Mina straightened and smiled.
And then I stopped chewing.
Her shoulders fell, her lips thinned, and she let out a weary-sounding, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
I spoke around the gritty-textured, bitter sand cake. “Disgusting.”
Thankfully, she handed me a napkin to spit it into, and because she was a glutton for punishment, she forked a piece of the cake and brought it to her mouth. A myriad of emotions went through her as she chewed. First, shock, then confusion, and finally, revulsion.
“Ew.” The quiet word left her pulled-down mouth before she spat the cake into her napkin. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I followed the instructions,” she swore.
I asked warily, “Were they in Danish?”
She glared at me, then drew out her response. “No, smartass.” I laughed, and after she got over herself, her lips twitched. But as quickly as it came, it went, and then she was miserable again. “I really am sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No.” She let out a bitter laugh. “It isn’t. I…” She looked like she was having a hard time admitting what she was about to. “I was jealous.” She shrugged resolutely. “I was jealous, and I flipped out.”
Right at that moment, Vik strolled into the kitchen, sleep worn and looking delicious in black low-hanging pajama pants. “Oh, wifey. I get it. You wanted to be the one to bear my baby. Who wouldn’t be jealous?”
Mina rolled her eyes. I snuffled out a laugh, and when he approached from behind, he placed his hand on my shoulders, squeezing. I felt his lips at the crown of my head as he kissed me and whispered, “Morning, kiska.”
And it was so familiar, so domestic, that I prayed every morning would be like this one.
Mina’s expression turned gooey. When she spoke, it was full of emotion. “I am so happy for you guys. It’s about time.”
Vik rounded the table, bent at the waist, and kissed her temple. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek lovingly, and my heart thawed considerably.
This was what I wanted. This life. This family. Nothing more or less. I was happy with what I’d been gifted.
As Vik made his way toward the coffee machine, Mina slid her hand out across the table. I took it, curled my fingers around hers, and squeezed.
Her eyes spoke clearly. “I love you.”
My own returned, “Love you more.”
We smiled at each other with an unspoken understanding.
And then, ruining our beautiful moment, Vik sputtered and spat into the sink, wheezing out a mildly disturbed, “Mina, what the fuck is in this cake?”
The week that followed had me reevaluating my entire life.
This baby changed things. I could no longer live the life I had previously. Vik and I discussed it at length, and we both agreed alterations had to be made. Before I even approached Sasha, I silently mourned my old life.
Who could blame me?
Going from dressing in lingerie at work so men could get their rocks off, to diapers and baby bouncers was a big change.
I knocked on the office door and poked my head in. He glanced up from his paperwork, looked at me a moment, then frowned back down at his work. “Nastasia. What can I do for you?”
Okay. Just like we discussed. Band-Aid maneuver. Hard and fast.
“I quit.”
Slowly, he placed down the papers, turned to face me fully, and his mouth pulled down in a deep frown. “Come again?”
Surprise!
His glare was spectacular. One only Sasha could pull off and still look as handsome as he did.
But he clearly expected an explanation. So, I gave him one. “I can’t do it anymore, Sash. The late nights. The obscure hours.” I placed a hand on my stomach. “It’s not good for the little peanut.” My brow quirked. “And, let’s be honest, even the seediest of men aren’t going to want to see a pregnant lady in her delicates, slinging drinks.”
My brother’s face softened a notch, as did his tone. He stared at me a minute before he asked, “And what do you plan on doing for work?”
