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“Well, Marco has quite the following.”

She’s referring to the artist who appeared earlier with a flash of personality twice the size of his small, five-and-a-half-foot frame. His assistant has been on his heels all night, cowing to every whim he’s requested. Her short red hair and slim jaw make her seem familiar, but I haven’t paid much attention to her. Twice though, I’ve caught her glancing my way with what can only be interest in her eyes.

Too bad for her I’m uninterested in whatever she’s considering offering.

“Marco’s a pretentious ass,” I mutter, and take a sip of my own water. I’m driving tonight so I’ve opted not to drink, plus I hate champagne and it’s all they’re serving.

“Yes,” Cara giggles softly, “he is that too.”

I tip my glass in the direction of the canvas we’re standing in front of. “Be honest with me. What do you think of this?”

“Well.” Her eyes do that sparkle thing again, and she turns to face it. I do the same, keeping my hand resting on the small of her back. “I think Marco is quite talented. His use of—”

“It’s shit, isn’t it?” I murmur the question in her ear so no one close to us can hear.

She huffs a quiet sound, shaking her head, but she also doesn’t deny it.

“Honest, Cara. Tell me what you think.”

She turns to me, tilting her head back so she can look me directly in the eye, and her eyes glimmer with humor. “It belongs in a seventh-grade science experiment on optical illusions, I think. Or one of those adult coloring books.”

“It gives me a migraine.”

Her smile widens and she covers her mouth with a laugh. “It makes me want to throw up, and not because I always feel like throwing up.”

The reminder of how sick she can get erases my humor. “How are you, really?”

Her hand settles on her stomach and she grimaces. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten. I have some almonds in my purse, but that’s in the back.”

“I’ll get them for you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Cara looks so thankful, color blooms on her cheeks and I’m unable to resist her sweet expression. I lean down and brush my lips to her temple, whispering, “Stay here.”

I move quickly, ditching my glass on the table near the bar as I head to the small lunchroom at the back. There, I quickly find her small designer clutch and I take out a small bag of almonds along with a ginger candy. She might not want to have it while she still has to talk to customers, but I drop it in my pocket and head back out.

When I reach her, she’s speaking with Marco and his assistant, both of whom turn their attention to me as soon as I reach the trio.

I nod, acknowledging them, and ignore the way the assistant’s eyes narrow in annoyance on me.

“Here,” I tell Cara, her taking my complete focus. I rip open the small bag of almonds and take her hand, dumping a few into her palm.

“My apologies,” she says to Marco and his assistant. “I haven’t eaten, and…” Her voice trails, like she doesn’t want to tell them she’s pregnant.

I do it for her. “Sorry, my girlfriend is pregnant.”

“Oh,” Marco says, his face twisting into something akin to disgust.

Next to me, Cara gasps. So she’s not exactly my girlfriend. Yet.

But it’s the redhead whose lips press together, brows lifting slowly as she says, “Excuse me, Braxton? Pregnant? Girlfriend?”

And I remember exactly where I’ve seen those eyes before. And that red hair.