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“I can’t imagine.” Ashley reached over Scott and squeezed my hand
“It’ll be okay, or it won’t. Honestly, I’m relieved to have a little normalcy back.” I dropped my gaze to the table. “I just want to thank you guys for letting me stay.” Tears filled my eyes as I traced the grain of the wood. “It was the wrong choice, but I’ll be forever thankful.” Smiling up at them, I wiped my cheek.
They laughed and shook their heads.
Ashley handed me a box of tissues. “What fun would SA Designs be without your chaos?"
“You’ve got a point.”
"We've actually had an uptick in requests for proposals," Miranda said, twisting the ends of her hair, her attention still on her laptop screen.
Scott grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Everyone wants a piece of the infamous Sasha Mitchell-Moretti. Won’t they be disappointed when they find out you don’t design murder rooms?”
“Keep it up, and I might start.” I threw a balled-up piece of paper at him, but Scott deflected it. “I’m glad you find humor in my misfortunes.”
“No, I wasn’t—” Scott’s normally rosy cheeks went full-blown tomato red.
“Just messing with you. I'm glad this isn't hurting business, but I'll walk if you guys ever change your mind."
“Yeah. Yeah.” Ashley rolled her eyes as she smoothed her hair to the poof at the back of her head.
“If Sasha’s done with her whole martyr thing, can I go?” Axel looked at his watch. “I have a delivery in ten minutes.”
“And just like that, Axel sets me straight.”
Ashley, Miranda, and Scott laughed as Axel stood.
I shooed him out the door. “Go, see to your wood.”
Rosa’s mansion loomed ahead as Tommy drove up the long driveway. We were all meeting Fern for an update and then having a family dinner before Rosa left for her vacation. Tommy stopped at the front door, but I didn’t get out. It had only been a few days since Rosa threatened my life but allowed me to live, so it made sense I was sick to my stomach at the thought of seeing her.
I rested my hand on my baby-less stomach. My period had come and gone, but there I was, pretending to be pregnant to save my life. Absolutely ridiculous. Visions of me shoving pillows under my shirt or going so far as to buy one of those fake bellies clouded my mind.
I would never take the lie that far. I didn’t have that kind of lying stamina.
Someday, Rosa would find out I wasn’t pregnant, and I could only hope that she wouldn’t be murderous by then.
A knock on the window sent me flying out of my seat. My head hit the roof, and my elbow smashed into Tommy. Clutching my chest, I glared out the window at Frankie. "You stupid son of a bitch,” I muttered.
I got out of the car, my heart still racing. “Don’t sneak up on people.”
“Sorry. I said your name first.”
Tommy pulled away, and I swear to God I heard laughter.
“Well . . . Next time, be louder.” I tugged the strap of my purse up my arm and stared at the front door, the car pep talk no longer giving me the oomph I needed to cross the threshold.
Frankie passed me. When he reached the first column, he looked over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. “You coming?”
Eyes pinned to the front window where Rosa stood chatting with Marco, I nodded and slowly joined Frankie.
“You’ve got to relax, or Aunt Rosa will be all over you.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
I stopped dead in my tracks, but Frankie placed a hand on my back and gave a little push.
At the door, a maid greeted and ushered us toward the sitting room.
