“The place is closed on Mondays—and it’s closed again on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I’ll rest then. That’s going to have to be good enough.” Lara continues with the rant she’s been on since we left the fertility clinic.

“Do you really think three days is going to be enough time?” I move the shopping bags that contain the toiletries and clothing I picked up at Wal-Mart on the way back to her apartment to one hand, using the other to open the door to her apartment. I hold on to the edge of it, waiting for her to enter.

Lara glares at me as she does. “She said I needed to rest for a few days. Three is a few. Plus she sent me home with all of these.” She rattles the paper pharmacy bag in her hand. “They’ll help me feel better, more energized. Plus, I’ll ask some of my staff to clean up after we close. That’ll also make things easier and a few will be glad to earn the extra money.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s what she had in mind,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?” Lara snaps.

“Nothing.”

Atticus leaps off the windowsill, where he apparently spent the day sunbathing, and charges across the room, barking at me the entire time. Either he doesn’t remember that we were introduced a few weeks ago, or he’s not happy that I’ve returned.

I prepared for this. I dig into one of the shopping bags, pushing aside the jeans and tube of toothpaste until my fingers close on the bag of expensive dog treats I picked up while I was grabbing emergency supplies for myself.

At the bag’s first crinkle, Atticus’s rear end hits the floor and his eyes, fever bright with eagerness, follow my hand’s every move. His ridiculous tail sweeps back and forth.

Tearing the bag open, I remove one of the chicken-flavored treats and toss it across the room. The tiny, hairless dog takes off after it like he’s been shot from a cannon.

Lara and I watch him go. “That’s one way to win him over,” she comments with a small smile.

“I don’t care if I win him over. I just want him to like me well enough that he doesn’t chew up my shoes, at least not until I can get a back-up pair.”

She floats a brow. “You think you’re going be here long enough for that to become an issue?”

That’s one of the many things we still need to discuss. It’s also not a conversation I really want to have now.

Cupping my hand around her elbow, I guide Lara to the couch and help her sit before dropping to my knees and removing her shoes. Unable to resist, I place my hand over her lower stomach, covering the place where our baby is growing. She hesitates a second before placing her hand over mine.

“That ultrasound, that was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” I whisper. I still can’t believe that Lara and I created a life together.

“Yeah.” Lara’s brow creases. “Until then, I didn’t really believe those tests were right. I was sure it was a mistake. Now that I’ve seen him … or her … with my own eyes…” Her mouth bows in a soft, secret smile. It transforms her into the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “Now, I don’t know, it’s like I’m filled up with this incredible sense of love and purpose. I know it’s probably just pregnancy hormones, but still, it feels amazing.”

I know exactly what she’s talking about. The ultrasound had the same effect on me, but I’m not ready to voice my feelings, not yet.

But this does feel like the perfect time to bring up a thought that’s been rattling around in the back of my mind since we left Dr. Henson and the fertility clinic.

“Lara, I really think you should plan on taking more time off than three days, two of which are still more than a week away. You owe it to yourself and the baby.”

“I know, I get it, I really do.” Her head drops to the back of the couch. “This is the busiest it’s been since I opened. I can’t afford to lose any business. I would if I could. Taking a break isn’t possible.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How?”

“I can take your place.”

She sits bolt upright and stares at me, her indigo eyes as big as saucers. “You can what?”

“I can take your place.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I haven’t always been a software designer. I started working when I was fifteen as a busboy, and I put myself through college by waiting tables and tending bar. Granted, it was a college bar, so basically all I did was pour beer, not the fancy mixed drinks you serve, but the point is, I’m not nearly as unqualified to fill your shoes as you think.”

“I don’t know.”

Sensing her wavering, I push my slight advantage. “Look, Dr. Henson said you don’t require bed rest, that you just need to take it easy. I’ll work behind the bar and you can chill in your office all night.”

“Chill?”

I ignore her. “You can spend the time in there doing whatever you like. Paint your nails, catch up on paperwork, start picking out baby names … I have some parenting books installed on my Kindle. You can read one or two of those if you like.”

“I get the picture.”

“While you do that, I can work behind the bar. You use multiple bartenders; they can train me as the night progresses and if we need your help, we’ll just knock on your office door. The setup should give you some time off your feet, which is what you and the baby need.”

“I guess we can try it,” Lara says, though she doesn’t look entirely convinced. “We open in an hour, so we need to head downstairs and find a uniform that fits you and I’ll give you a crash course on mixing our most popular cocktails.”

“Great.” I rise up a little and kiss her cheek. “I promise, you won’t regret this.”