Two weeks passed without another word from Jordan or his company of suits. Bec kept me posted on which paperwork she and the other lawyers were exchanging, but because she might as well have been speaking another language, I was unable to say more than, “That sounds great!”

In the meantime, I was house hunting and job searching, the latter of which I’d finally had some success in.

I was heading to a second interview for a tech company that morning. It specialized in research and development of robotics, and they needed someone to oversee their merchandising design.

I was excited. I’d met with the HR representative and the COO the week before to show them my portfolio and we’d clicked. The job seemed to have a lot of moving parts—management of a few junior designers, long-term project planning, and even an opportunity to stick with my roots and undertake some assignments myself.

It was everything I’d been searching for, and I really hoped they liked me as much as I did them.

Why did I suddenly have the image of a little girl standing on the sidelines waving her hands and shouting, “Pick me! Pick me!”

So not a helpful thought going into a very important interview.

“Abigail.” The HR representative, Jessica, walked past the reception desk and greeted me with an outstretched hand. “Lovely to see you again. Heather and Rich are ready for you in the conference room.”

I stood, shook her hand, and followed her. “How was your week?”

Jessica rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Craziness! But that seems to be the M.O. these days. We were bought out about three months ago, and while most things have settled, there are still weeks where everything seems to fall apart.”

“This was one of them?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah.” She stopped at the entrance to the conference room and smiled. “Good luck. I hope to see you around the office in the future.”

I smiled back. “Me too.”

Jessica pulled open the door and made the introductions. I’d met Rich the previous week, as he was the COO. Heather, the CEO, was new to me, but I immediately understood that she was the most important person in the room.

My father had that air, the one that made people around him sit up straighter and jump through all the hoops to impress him.

I considered myself immune to that sort of presence, but even Heather made my heart skip a beat and my stomach—which had been relatively agreeable over the last two weeks—twist.

I hadn’t puked since that afternoon, but my queasiness had been intense.

Still, I’d managed with small meals and a package of saltines in my purse.

Today that might not be enough.

No, dammit. I gave my brain a mental slap. Cut the crap.

Lifting my chin and swallowing down the nerves and nausea, I shook Heather’s and Rich’s hands then sat at the table.

I’d brought a few different things with me including some mock-ups I designed of their robotics line for kids. I’d taken some creative license, enjoying the project probably a little too much.

“What’s this?” Heather asked, eyeing the small box critically.

“Oh,” I said, a bit embarrassed. It wasn’t manufacturer’s perfect, since I’d printed it at home, but I’d been proud of the packaging I’d created. Now I wondered if it were too juvenile. “Rich showed me a few of the sample products your company has created for kids and I . . . ran with it a bit. I’m sure it doesn’t align exactly with what you’d imagined since we haven’t spoken, but this is what I came up with. I can totally change anything. This was just geared toward the six- to eight-year-old audience . . .”

I forced myself to shut up.

“Hmm.” Heather picked up the box, turned it over, and raised a brow at Rich before setting it back down.

Well, I guessed I’d screwed up this opportunity.

Damn.

I’d really wanted to work here.

After an inner sigh, I forced the negativity down and straightened my shoulders. I would finish the interview with confidence and pride in my work. Who cared what some judgy CEO thought?

“This is the mock website I put together,” I said, opening my laptop. “And some graphics for social media ads.” I clicked around, showing them the various goodies I’d made. “Some short videos using stock footage and design programs. If we pursued this type of advertising, I’m sure the marketing department could film some original content and we’d make it look a lot prettier.”

“I think it looks damn good already,” Rich said, and pointed to my favorite graphic. “I like this one the best.”

I smiled at him. “Me too.”

“Hmm,” said Heather.

Holy mother of Batman.

I kept the smile on my lips by pure grit. “So that’s what I have. Did you have any further questions for me? Want to see anything else in particular?”

“No,” Heather said.

“Okay then.” I closed my computer and began stashing my materials in my bag. “Thank you for your time.”

I zipped my bag, stood, and slung it over my shoulder.

“I know your father,” Heather said.

“Mmm. That’s nice.” I shook Rich’s hand.

“I thought you might be hype.”

I extended my palm toward Heather. “Not hype. I like to make my own way, and I love to design. That’s the beginning and end of it.”

“Hmm,” she said, and put her hand in mine.

“Yeah.” Super original reply. But I shook her hand and turned to the door. “Thank you again.”

Heather waited to speak until I was crossing the threshold. “Jessica will email you the official job description and salary-benefit package. If all meets with your approval, I’ll see you in my office eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

My heart skipped a beat before speeding up, pounding heavily in my chest. I turned back to the table where Heather was staring down at her phone. “I’ll look it over and let Jessica know.”

“Hmm,” she said.

I peeked at Rich, who was smiling widely. He gave me a thumbs-up.

I nodded at him, said goodbye, then got the hell out of that conference room before Heather changed her mind.

“Yes!” Seraphina fist pumped as she let me into her house. She would be accompanying me that afternoon on my thus far unsuccessful house hunt.

Though the realtor had supposedly found a few more options for me in the competitive market.

Near wine country and in a city with more millionaires than anywhere else on the planet meant that my trust fund only went so far . . .

Okay, that wasn’t totally true.

If I splurged, I could probably buy half the town.

But I didn’t like using the money in the first place—my father had made it, not me—and if it was just going to be the baby and myself, then I didn’t need a gigantic mansion.

Unfortunately, there weren’t too many non-gigantic mansions in my town. Not if I wanted to be in the best school district.

And with the baby on the way, I needed to be.

“This job sounds perfect for you!” Seraphina said once I’d showed her the description.

“The salary is kind of low,” I said. In fact, it was barely more than what I’d made with Frank and Susan, and RoboTech was a big corporation.

“You could negotiate for higher,” Seraphina pointed out.

“Yeah, I could,” I said. “But I kind of feel like Heather is waiting for me to pull the ‘Bernie Roberts’ rich daughter’ card.”

“You think it’s a test?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Is that crazy?”

“Maybe?” Seraphina smiled. “But by the way you described Heather, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“I know.”

“Well, only time will tell. And now speaking of things unrelated to both time and craziness, you’re a little pale,” she said, and led the way into the kitchen. Once there, she handed me a sandwich and pushed me onto a bar stool at the peninsula. “Did you skip a meal again?”

My eyes flicked down at my phone, checking the digital clock on the home screen. “No. But I am hungry and tired. I’m sure the interview is what exhausted me. That was a lot of stress for one morning with the prep and then Heather spending the whole meeting hmm-ing at me.”

“You kicked butt in that meeting, I know it.” Seraphina filled a glass with water then sat down next to me. “Now tell me about the houses we’re seeing.”

“I upped my budget.”

Seraphina smiled. “Please say enough so that we can be neighbors?”

“I’m not sure I’ve upped it that much.” Her wrinkled nose and pursed lips made me laugh. “Pout much?”

“I want you to buy the house next door and then for you to just randomly pop over for coffee all the time. It’d be like Desperate Housewives only less desperate and more fun.”

“Desperate Housewives? How old are we? That show came out like fifteen years ago.”

“Fourteen, thank you very much.” Seraphina set the glass down. “I’ve been bingeing it and it’s fabulous.”

“You’re crazy.” I shoved the last bit of sandwich in my mouth, already feeling more energized. I hadn’t even known I was exhausted until I’d sat down.

The adrenaline from the interview, I guessed.

“We could binge it together, you know . . .”

“We could . . .” I said, not wanting to commit. Christmas movies I loved. Romcoms, cheesy Hallmark movies. Yes, yes, sign me up.

Dramatic TV shows, not so much.

“Or . . .” Seraphina’s expression was way too innocent. “If you moved in here, we could watch the whole thing and all the other bad movies we want. We could share books. It’d be great, like being college roommates again.”

“Sera—”

“And eat ice cream and stay up late and . . .” I waited for her to wind down, knowing that once she went on a tangent, there was no interrupting her.

“It would be awesome!” she finished on another fist pump.

And since my friend wasn’t known for excessive fist pumps, I crossed my arms, raised a brow, and waited. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Mmm hmm,” I said. “Spill, girl. You know we tried living together in college and it was nearly the death of our friendship. We are not hospitably compatible.”

“We’re older now.”

“And you’re not telling me something.”

She slumped, sighing as she rested her head in her palm. “It’s really nothing, not compared to what you’ve got going on.”

I reached across the cream-colored marble and put my hand over hers. “My drama doesn’t trump everything that is happening in our lives. Your stuff is important too.”

“What you’re saying is that it’s not all about you?” Her lips quirked into a half smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far . . .” I smirked. “Tell me.”

“I was dating someone.”

“For how long?” I asked, surprised she hadn’t mentioned it. We shared everything.

“I thought he was—” She made a face and shrugged. “I—it’s stupid now, but I thought he might be my HEA.”

Apparently we didn’t share it all.

I squeezed her fingers. “But how? When?”

“Since that day at the bar. When I got called into work. I was running for my car and literally ran into Him. Or who I thought was a Him.”

Him was our code for that mythical man, the hero from our novels, the person who we’d run off with into our happily ever after.

A Him was a really big deal.

I gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You had a lot going on and—” She grimaced. “That’s not fair. The truth was, I didn’t want to share the fantasy with you. Not because I was worried you’d ruin it or anything,” she rushed to say when I sucked in a breath.

Her words stung, but it wasn’t about me in that moment. “It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not like you’re thinking.” Seraphina stood up and began pacing around the kitchen, the glass-tiled backsplash glittering behind her as she walked. “I didn’t want to share because I was worried it would all go to shit and then I would be sad, and it did g-go to sh-shit, and I am sad and—”

The doorbell rang.

“Damn. That must be the realtor.” I stood up, pulled Seraphina into a quick hug. “I’ll cancel with her and be right back.”

“No.” She blew out a breath, swiped a finger under one eye. “I can wallow later. Right now, since you won’t live with me, I want to convince you to spend some more money and live next door.”

“Are you sure?” I gripped her hands. “We can put on jammies and eat chocolate. I’ll even watch an episode of Desperate Housewives.”

“Tempting.” She put an arm around my waist. “But you need a house more than I need chocolate.”

I made the sign of the cross and hissed. “How dare you say such sacrilege?”

She snorted. “I love you, dork.”

“Love you more.”

The doorbell pealed again. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go house hunting.”