“You gotta be shittin’ me,” I grumbled, looking at my phone to double-check that I saw what I thought I saw. Or rather, that what I saw in front of my eyes made what I saw on my phone a blatant lie.

“Sorry boss lady – I’ve been down with a cold. I’m in bed at my hotel now, resting and working – I’ll have my first draft to you before Christmas, I promise.” – Jemma W.

Okay.

So.

That would’ve been perfectly fine, if I wasn’t currently watching Jemma Wright live her absolute best life, sipping from a margarita in the hotel bar in between the bites of pineapple some – admittedly fine as hell – dude was literally feeding her.

She looked great – her pretty brown skin was glowing, cat eye drawn to a perfect angle, lipstick popping, twist-out glossy and fluffed to perfection. Definitely not like she’d been down with a cold any time recently – which made sense, considering this was the sunny fucking Bahamas.

This girl was playing me.

I liked games though.

I took a seat damn near right beside her – she was too distracted by neat locs and mahogany skin and luscious facial hair to notice – and ordered a drink of my own. Once I had it in hand, I pulled out my phone, typing out a reply to her earlier message.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry to hear you haven’t been well – you’re still at your favorite spot in Sydney, right? I’m going to call the front desk and have them bring you some soup, and some meds.”

It only took a second, but behind me, Jemma asked her suitor to give her a second.

“Awww,” she gushed, presumably reacting to my message.

I rolled my eyes.

A few moments later, I rolled them again, when I got her reply.

“That’s sooo sweet of you Toni, but I have everything I need. A soothing drink for my throat, and something to warm my bed. I’ll be fine!” – Jemma W.

I bet you will.

“Oh wonderful,” I texted back. “But just in case, I’m hopping on a flight. Can’t have you alone, sick in a foreign country. And I can grab Bri an authentic boomerang while I’m there.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Jemma hissed, a few seconds later. I’d probably be freaking out too, if I had to figure out how to get my lying ass from the Bahamas to Australia. Especially when my ass didn’t have to lie.

Hell, if I were her, I’d rather be hugged up with a fine-ass fruit-slangin’ Bahamian than working on my book too. But the thing was, she’d already missed one deadline, and wasn’t looking good for the extension.

This was the first and last time I was writing a contract for a family member.

This girl was playing.

“I’m fine Toni, really. And I can ship lil’ bit a boomerang, straight from the store! It’s no trouble at all, I’m sure I’ll be well enough to get out and about tomorrow.” – Jemma W.

I imagined her feeling very pleased with herself for that reply, confident it would convince me. She went right back to her sweet talk with Mr. December, picking up her drink again.

That’s when I tapped her on the shoulder.

“Are you sure you’ll be recovered enough to go shopping? It’s crazy busy in Sydney this time of year,” I said, then sat back with a smirk as she choked, accidentally sending frozen margarita up her nose.

It was so, so satisfying.

“T-TONI!” she sputtered. “What… what are you doing… here? How did you know I was here?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t. I’m here checking in with Soriyah about her book, and this is my favorite hotel… I’m guessing you came to check out the margaritas since I raved about them?”

Her eyes were big as she turned to her beefcake. “You have my number, right?” she asked. When he nodded, she motioned for him to go away. “Okay then, scram.” She looked back to me once he was gone. “Wow… this is quite a coincidence, huh?”

“Only if by coincidence you mean nightmare,” I corrected her, shaking my head. “I know I ruined all your little fun, and I don’t feel bad about it, because you lied.”

“In my defense… okay, I don’t have one. But you saw him, right?”

I laughed. “I did, Jemma, but what I want to see is the book you promised me. Is that so much to ask?”

Jemma groaned. “Yes, actually. Writing a book is haaard,” she whined, picking up her margarita again.

“Yeah, it is,” I agreed. “But nobody is forcing you to do it. You haven’t cashed your advance yet. You can give it back, I can void your contract, and you can get back to being Jemma Bourdain for the ‘Gram. You’re great at it, and it makes you happy.”

“Yeah, but… this book is my dream.”

“Is it?” I countered, wide-eyed, before I turned to take a sip from my drink.

“Wow, shade,” Jemma laughed. “You know how I feel about this.”

I nodded. “You’ve told me many times, but what you haven’t done is showed me a manuscript. The proof is in the pudding, sweetheart.”

Again, she groaned. “Do you think it’s easy to squeeze six years of food, flights, and foreign flings into 300 pages?!”

“I think food, flights, and foreign flings is an excellent tagline,” I told her, taking out my phone to make a note of it. “But no, I don’t think it’s easy. I do think you can do it though. You’re more than capable, Jemma. And I’ve offered to bring in a co-writer—”

“No,” she interrupted me to fuss. “I don’t need a co-writer, I need… inspiration.”

I smirked. “Is that what ol’ boy was?”

“Maybe. It’s been a while.”

“Well if dick is all you need to get that manuscript in my hands before Christmas, get him back over here now.”

Jemma cringed. “Yeah, about that…”

“Oh girl I already know I won’t see anything from you before Spring,” I told her, shaking my head. “But seriously… don’t cash that advance check unless you plan to give me something. I don’t want to sue a family member but…”

“Scouts’ honor,” Jemma swore. “Spring. First draft.”

“Uh huh.” I finished my drink, then stood up. “Will you be in the city for Christmas with the family this year?”

“Mama threatened to kill me if I’m not. I actually fly out from here Friday, then I’m home til after New Year’s.”

I nodded. “Okay. I fly out tomorrow, but I’ll see you at home next week. I won’t intervene on your trip anymore since I know you’re trying to get ‘inspired’,” I teased, then kissed her cheek. “See you later cousin.”

“Bye Toni,” she called after me, as I headed out of the bar.

I was stepping onto the elevator when my cell rang. As soon as I saw the name on the screen, I answered.

“You didn’t go into labor, did you?” I asked, as soon as the call was connected, not even bothering with “hello”.

Devyn laughed. “No, your anxious ass. I’m not due until next month, remember?”

“Killjoy,” I accused. “What the hell do you want then?”

“Wow!”

“I’m playing,” I chuckled, using my keycard to get into my room. “But seriously – everything okay?”

She hesitated long enough for me to know it wasn’t, even before I heard the words. “That… depends on how you define “okay”. Reese is taking a pregnancy test right now.”

My breath caught in my chest. “Oh. Oh,” I said, taking a seat at the edge of my bed. “Is she okay? Well… God, I know she’s not okay, but… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Yeah,” Devyn agreed. “She literally just walked in the bathroom, but I knew she’d appreciate having you on the line… no matter what the result is. I’m not interrupting anything important am I?”

“No! No, not at all, I’m glad you called.”

“Oh, I’m putting it on speaker. She’s coming out now,” Devyn said, prompting me to tighten my grip on the phone. “I’ve got Toni on the line.”

“Hey Toni!” Reese called, her voice too high to accurately convey the cheeriness she was trying to fake.

“Hey Reesie,” I replied. “You doing okay?”

“No.”

I heard the break in her tone, but knew it didn’t tell me anything. Positive or negative… either answer was probably going to break her heart.

“Reesie,” Devyn said, her voice soothing. “What is it?”

Over the line, I distinctly heard Reese sniffle, knew she was crying. It took a second for her to calm herself, but then she cleared her throat to give us the answer we were waiting on.

“I’m pregnant.”