No Perfect Princess (35 page)

“I was thinking of having Alfred train Sorrelle a little bit.” We both had a good laugh, although Claire winced, seeming more in pain than actually laughing.

I pulled her feet into my lap and starting rubbing, a tradition from our girls’ nights together. “Okay, out with it. What the hell’s going on with you? Did you catch Ebola on the honeymoon?” I bolted upright with mock panic. “Shit. Do I need a hazmat suit?”

Claire gave another weak laugh. “Knock it off, you crazy bitch.” After I made a point of visibly sobering—and giving her the spill-it-or-face-my-wrath glare—she took a deep breath and murmured, “I’m pregnant.”

I shrieked and hugged her. “Bun in the hot Stone oven! I
knew
it!”

She looked a little alarmed. Clearly, she and Kil were waiting on springing the news on the rest of the world. “You did?”

“Well, I wasn’t
sure
, sure. Okay, pretty sure. But I know you better than a lot of people, so—” I shook my head, dazed and excited. This was
so
the twist my life needed. “I’m going to be an auntie! Fuck me sideways.”

“Well, it wasn’t sideways,” Claire returned. “Hmm. Maybe it was. He’s pretty creative…”

“Stop!” I held up both hands. There were things about Killian Jamison Stone that no longer interested me. After Claire indulged a real giggle, I hugged her again. “Congratulations, Claire! I’m so thrilled for you both!” I glanced down at her slender frame. “It must be pretty early though, yeah?”

She nodded. “Just six weeks or so. But hell’s damn bells. I can’t keep anything down. It’s been awful.”

“So where’s that asshole brother of mine?” I peered around, even listening for the telltale signs of Kil-is-in-the-house. “Why isn’t he here watching over you?”

“Because I ordered him out.” She snorted and pinched the bridge of her nose, a move borrowed directly from her husband. “He just makes it worse sometimes. He…hovers.” She smacked me with a pillow when I answered that with a snicker. “
Not
funny. He
hovers
, Margaux. It’s
bad
.” She waved her hand when I didn’t relent. “Go see him. He’ll be glad you know at last. I refuse to make an official announcement until I’m further along. It’s been eating him alive, not having anyone to share the excitement with.”

I rose. “You’ll be all right?”

“Sure. Alfred’s right around the corner.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs in the second guest room, if I have to bet. He’s been spending every free moment in there. Dog with a damn bone.”

I gently tucked the throw around her so she was nice and snug. It probably drove her crazy but she was too sick to do anything about it, so I
really
fussed.

After laughing my way out of the room, I climbed the slightly curved staircase, affording a sweeping view of their new home. Killian had really outdone himself this time. I gazed down into the formal dining room, dominated by a table set with places for twelve but likely expandable to sixteen, next to an antique sideboard and a pair of designer rolling serving carts. At the top of the stairs, a landing was set with high-back chairs of shiny leather, arranged in a semi-circle around a dark oak coffee table. It was all sumptuous but comfortable. I was impressed.

Thumping music pulled me forward. The room it came from was where I’d find Killian. He always had music blaring if he wasn’t too deep in thought.

After passing several closed doors, I arrived at the one throbbing with an old Hall and Oates classic,
Private Eyes
—accompanied by an off-key warble that made me damn glad Kil hadn’t pursued a singing career.

I opened the door and popped my head in.

And blinked. Then again.

Best blackmail moment
ever
. Either that, or a hallucination nobody would ever believe.

Mr. CEO.

Mr. Billionaire.

My big brother.

Spread out on the floor like a toddler himself, surrounded by every piece of conceivable baby gear on the market—and probably a few that weren’t.

“Picture worth a million words.” I shouted over the music.

His head jerked up, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and befuddlement ruling his eyes. Both sleeves of his Ledbury Royal Twill Worker were rolled to the elbow as he spread an instruction sheet out, its five languages a mish-mash of words. When he saw me, a dazzling grin split his lips. He grabbed the remote and lowered the volume with a fast jab.

“She told you.”

“She sure did. Congrats, Papa Bear.”

He lunged, catching me in his arms and twirling me around at least three times. I was squealing too hard to keep accurate count. By the time he set me back down, I was laughing pretty hard at his excitement. “Well, what a sight you are to behold, Mr. Stone.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Stone.”

I dignified that with a hard whack to his shoulder and nothing else. Back to the
important
subject in the room. “I had no idea you wanted a baby so soon.”

“Neither did I. But when Claire told me, I couldn’t believe we weren’t on it sooner.”

“On it
sooner
? As in, less than a month after your damn honeymoon?”

He let me laugh, and even joined in. “This shit is so much fun already. You have
no
idea.”

“No, I don’t. Let’s keep it that way. Especially because you’re so goddamn adorable right now, I may go join Claire for her next puke-out.”

“Bitch,” he teased.

“Butthead,” I countered.

I swiveled before placing a careful step to my left, praying not to hear the crunch of plastic beneath my toe. “Okay, seriously, Kil. You need to pace yourself here. It’s really early.” I raised my brows, circling around again. Bouncers. Play swings. Bottle warmers. Safety gates. Stuffed animals.
And
a train set? That wasn’t all of it. The crib and a half-dozen other items were still in boxes.

Kil kept grinning. “Cool, huh? I one-clicked all of it. Do you know how much shit you have to get for a baby?”

I spied the little remote to his stereo and clicked the music completely off. “
Killian
. You need to leave this shit alone for a few months.”

He frowned, the kid who’d just had the puppy taken away. “But why?”

“Because you won’t have anything left to do when Claire gets closer to delivering. Then you’ll
really
hover.”

Full glower. “I don’t hover.”

“Hmmm, yeah…I bet you hover. But if you hover in the third trimester, Claire will likely shiv you. And I will cry. Then I will throw all this crap into your cold, dark grave with you.”

His eyes narrowed. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“In a heartbeat.” I inhaled deep, showing him I was going for the real version of serious now. “Have you been downstairs lately?”

Kil winced. “Nausea’s back?”

“Is that what it means when her skin’s the color of clam chowder?”

He didn’t hesitate to turn for the door. “Let’s go.”

He offered me his arm, ready to escort me downstairs. I smiled and took it. Why was it that my
non-
biological brother was the sane, classy one? I shuddered to think I shared half the same gene pool with Trey.

“Maybe we can distract her with a movie or something,” I suggested. “You know, all three of us, like we used to.”

Killian grinned. “Great idea. We’ve both missed you, honey.”

“Awwww.” I swallowed, hoping to alleviate the heaviness in my chest, and failing. Was this the shit people referenced when they spoke of “lumps in the throat”? It didn’t suck. But no way in hell was it the greatest. “I’ve missed…hanging with you guys, too.” Maybe I could open up to him—a little—and not spill everything. “To be honest, I could use the company.” Perhaps there was one more ulterior motive. Easing my guilt about the Trey mess was a perfect build-in for all this.

“So maybe I’ve been a
little
carried away,” he admitted as we walked.

“First step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, brother.”

“Shut up.”

“
You
shut up.”

We laughed again. “I’m so goddamn excited,” he said then. “Can you imagine our little mini Claire running around here?”

“Not a little mini Kil?”

He pretended like I hadn’t spoken. “She’s going to have her mama’s red hair and fiery attitude. And that adorable little nose, that I can kiss goodnight after I read her a story…”

I swore to God, my brother had stars in his eyes. Just looking at him…

Oof.

There was my damn, nagging stomach ache again. No use trying to mask the cause. Jealousy.
Fucking jealousy
. It swirled in my stomach, dark and debilitating, making me want to hurl the latte I’d declared as nectar from heaven just thirty minutes ago.

I wanted a man to look like that when he talked about me.

Seriously, girlfriend? You had your chance—right before you kicked him to the curb.

When we reentered the family room, the sofa was empty and the fur throw tossed hastily on the floor, giving me a pretty good idea where Claire was. My clueless brother scowled in confusion. “Alfred, where’s Mrs. Stone?”

“She’s in the washroom, sir.”

“Shit.” I interjected it with a huff. The bigger picture was clearer now. “Okay, reality check. Alfred? The sweet little fibs you and Mrs. Stone are perpetuating on
Mr.
Stone? That shit stops. Now.”

“Y-Yes, Miss Asher.”

“You can cut
that
shit, too. I’m just Margaux, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Margaux.”

I turned up the frost another notch. “
Just
Margaux,” seethed between my teeth.

“Wait,” Killian growled. “What ‘sweet little fibs’? What the hell?”

I grabbed his elbow. “Time to cut Bob the Builder loose, brother. He can come back to play when Mr. Hover Board isn’t needed anymore.”

As he nodded, I pivoted back to Alfred. “Why don’t you hustle to the kitchen and grab Claire something with ginger in it? Gingerale? Tea? If you have peppermint, that’s even better. And bring back a few cool, wet hand towels, too. And some saltines. Oh, and Alfred—another awesome latte? Just like the other one, only with a dash of Stevia.”

Alfred ping-ponged his stare between Killian and me.

“She scares the fuck out of me too, man,” Killian blurted. “Just do it.”

Alfred rushed out, passing Claire on the way. Her complexion wasn’t green anymore.

It was light blue.

“Holy hell.” Killian rushed to her. “Fairy…my God.” He scooped her up into his arms like she was the baby herself. “When did you get this bad?”

Claire swung a glare at me. “Tattle tale.”

I held up both hands. “Guilty as charged. Now handcuff me. Oh, wait. You’re too damn weak for that, aren’t you? Bad guys go free. That’s what you get for being stupid.”

I didn’t examine that one too closely.

“
Psssshh
.”

“Margaux’s completely right,” Kil snarled. “No more sucking this shit up. I’m not leaving your side now.”

“Crap,” she muttered.

“Hush,” he chided.

“It’s just morning sickness.” She batted uselessly at his chest while he completed their trip to the sofa. “I’ve been reading up on it. It just hits some women harder than others. Margaux, stop glaring.”

“She
cares
.” Kil perched himself on the cushion, leaning over her.

“She sure as hell does,” I added. “You need to stay hydrated, woman. And talk to your husband more. And
you
”—I jammed a finger at Killian—“need to cut the Tim Taylor and stay glued to her for a while. You’re the fucker that did this to her, so take care of her.”

Kil smiled and saluted. “I’m all over it.”

“Oh, God,” Claire groaned.

I nodded, satisfied. “Okay, I’m going to get out of your hair so you can rest. But you can expect my text later.”

After they nodded in unison, I grabbed my coat and bag then leaned in to press a soft kiss on the crown of her cute red head. Killian rose to walk me to the front door, helping me with my coat as we walked.

When we got to the door, I turned and flashed him a grin. “You did good, Mr. baby-maker-daddy-man.”

“Thanks, princess.”

I groaned. “Not you, too.”

“Huh?”

“Forget it. Just get in there and make sure she drinks, okay? She’s barfed at least three times while I’ve been here. If that keeps up, you’d better call one of the doctors you own, stat.”

Before he could say anything, I kissed his cheek and slipped out into the balmy night. And sucked in the first real breath I’d had in an hour.

Until his shout yanked me back around. “Margaux!”

When I turned, he smiled again. The man radiated so much happiness, I was certain the moon simply chose to reflect
him
tonight.

“You know she wanted to tell you first.”

I followed my initial instinct to swing my middle finger high.

“Yeah, yeah. We love you, too.”

Shit.

Just…
shit.

Andre already had the door open. I slipped inside the car without my usual smart-ass line. I didn’t have any more smart-ass left in me.

I had nothing left in me.

And yet…I had everything.

And had no damn idea what to do with it.

The confusion hit at full force, making me shamelessly grab at the proper white handkerchief that appeared in my line of sight. “Dammit!” I rasped. These fucking people were thawing me, no matter how hard I fought it. I tried to dab daintily at my eyes but the dark eyes assessing me from the front…they knew better. Had already dissected me like a disgusting science project.

“Just…drive,” I croaked out.

These were the times I was most grateful for Andre. He didn’t ask where. He didn’t ask why. He just did it. He’d been with me almost four years now, surviving longer than any staff member of mine. And yes, “surviving” was the right verb. In more ways than one.

We merged onto the 5 south at a decent pace, the freeway lights lulling me into a trance as they zoomed past the tinted windows. After tucking his handkerchief into the pocket of my jacket, I took a long, heavy breath—before surprising him as much as myself with my next words.