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Jude had become a man who did whatever necessary to sculpt his own life, his own existence.
That philosophy created its own dilemma, the crux of which meant Jude had just posed a question he honestly couldn’t answer…
“I’m doing this.”
Kate dropped her armful of portfolios onto the table in front of Nikki, then sank into the chair opposite her at the restaurant they’d agreed upon.
“I paid a small fortune to expedite all the readings, interpretations, notarizations, et cetera. You owe me a glass of wine,” she told her friend. “A ridiculously expensive glass of wine.”
With a smile, Nikki said, “Screw the wine. I have a ridiculously expensive bottle of champagne on ice.” She caught the eye of the sommelier and gave him a nod. “Enjoy it. We might be drinking swamp-swill overseas.”
“Purified water will make me happy.”
“It’s on the list.” Nikki reached for the first folio, flipped it open, noted Kate’s signature accompanied by a notary’s seal…and smiled. Then she said to Kate, “You are rock-solid, my friend.”
“Not exactly.”
Nikki’s crimson mouth turned downward.
Kate waited until the free-standing ice chiller and champagne had been delivered, the cork popped and the glasses filled before she explained, “This rock shifted. Dislodged itself and is tumbling down a craggy surface.”
Nikki sipped, then snickered. “You and your metaphors. Colorful, but…what are you talking about?”
“I messed up,” Kate blurted. “Full-on, Nik. Like… Okay…” She shook her head. “No metaphors. I just straight-up messed everything to high heaven. See, there’s this guy—”
“From The Plaza,” Nikki said, perking up.
“Yes, that’s the one. And he’s so hot a
nd refined and gorgeous and smart and hot. Wait, I said hot already. But yes, so very, very hot.”
Nikki sat back, a wicked flash in her emerald eyes. “This is about to get really good, isn’t it?”
“No.” Kate groaned. “This is about to get really bad. Because I ended things with him.”
“What?” Nikki inched forward again, resting her arms on the table. “What did you do, Kate?”
“Nik,” she said before taking another deep sip. “He has his own life to live, his own ideals. He has this enormous house and he likes kids—”
“You like kids, Kate,” she interjected.
“Yes, I do like kids. Other peoples’ kids. I’m not intending to have any of my own, Nik.”
“Well…not today…”
“Nik.”
They stared at each other.
Kate’s friend said, “Conner and I weren’t considering it, either. Then he died. Now…?” She let out a long breath. “Kate, I’d give anything to have his kid nipping at my heels. Asking me about his dad. Reminding me every second of the day how inquisitive and vibrant Conner was. I would literally give anything, Kate.”
Kate drained her glass, despite the lofty price tag warranting a classier approach. The subject matter demanded a healthy drink. She waited briefly for a refill, then took another sip as emotion cascaded over her.
Then she said, “It would be a travesty if Jude didn’t procreate.”
“Procreate, Kate?” Nikki rolled her misty eyes. “Remember who you’re talking to. Tell me in all Kate Stockman honesty and uncensored terminology what you’re thinking here.”
“He’s the most beautiful man on the planet and he should have more than three perfect replicas of himself populating the earth,” she declared. Then took a breath before asking, “Honest and uncensored enough for you, Nik?”
