Page 138 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

KATIE

G inny collapsed on the sofa beside me with a sigh after our hard day of work.

Roman puttered around in my kitchen pouring mimosas and assembling a charcuterie board.

He loved to host but didn’t have the space to do so in the studio apartment he rented in a vacation property down the road, so he used my kitchen every chance he got.

Ginny and I never complained. We were the ones who reaped the benefits of his perfectionism and talent with food prep and pairings, and tonight was a night for such indulgences.

I’d had a rough past few days.

The baby shower had gone pretty much exactly as I expected it to.

I was surrounded by happy young couples all eagerly celebrating my brother, the soon-to-be-father, and Hailey, the soon-to-be-cutest-mother-in-the-world.

Her bump had been showing, and when she offered to let me touch it, I nearly burst into tears right there on the spot.

None of them knew the kind of torture the party wreaked on me.

Jackson had a slight idea. He’d mentioned before I flew into town that he understood if I wanted to do a drive-by visit and sort of duck in and then out so I wasn’t bombarded by all the baby stuff.

I explained to him that my infertility was not going to hold me back from celebrating my new niece or nephew that would be coming into the world in a few short months.

Jackson’s gratitude and joy that I was coming had been obvious. I hoped he never heard my heart breaking when I walked into the party or when I saw Hailey’s bump for the first time. I hoped she didn’t take it personally when I declined her offer to put my hand on her tummy to feel the baby kicking.

And lastly, I hoped none of them had the impression I didn’t want to be there.

Because holy hell, would I have rather been anywhere else.

Like in Peter’s arms.

My mouth watered at the promise of impending food and I didn’t even know what he was putting together.

“So,” Ginny started, “how was your brother’s baby shower?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Roman cut me off.

“Baby shower?” He scoffed. “Who cares? I want to start with the good stuff.” Roman unwrapped a wheel of brie cheese and pulled a sharp knife through it, slicing it neatly down the middle and exposing its soft, gooey insides. “I want to hear about your night with Peter after Skip’s.”

My cheeks burned. Ah right, my drunken episode at the bar.

Ginny pointed an accusing but delighted finger at me. “You dirty girl! You didn’t, did you?”

Roman popped the cork on a bottle of champagne. “Did you fuck him? While you were that shitfaced?”

“No!” My cheeks burned hotter than they had seconds ago and I willed my face not to turn too red and give me away completely.

I doubted I was having any luck. Roman was still wearing that smirk of his that made me want to slap his mouth clean off his face.

“No, I did not. But he took me back to his place to spare me having to walk through the hotel. Or should I say stumble ? I didn’t think that would go over well if any guests saw me. ”

My friends nodded their agreement but didn’t say a word as they waited for more details.

I obliged them. “He was very chivalrous. He made me sleep in his bed and he took the sofa, and he let me sleep in his clothes.”

“Hot,” Roman said as he carried on assembling our food. “T-shirt? Button-up? Tank top? I need details, babe. You know how I get.”

“T-shirt.”

Roman nodded knowingly. “He’s into you.”

I blinked and looked from Roman in the kitchen to Ginny beside me, who nodded her agreement.

“Yep,” Ginny said. “He is most certainly into you.”

“Guys,” I said lamely. “I know that. I was drunk. Not blind.”

Roman pumped his eyebrows and scooped hot and spicy jelly onto the brie wheel. “That begs the question then. Is our spicy little Katie into him ?”

I licked my lips, considered playing it cool and claiming I wasn’t sure how I felt, and then decided there was no sense in that.

Roman always knew when I was lying, and Ginny wouldn’t believe me anyway, not after seeing firsthand how hot Peter was and how effortlessly he’d carried me out of the bar.

It had been enough to make any woman swoon, and there was no doubt in my mind a little bit of Ginny’s swooning had been out of envy.

“I like him,” I admitted. “I like him a lot more than I thought I would. That morning after…” I trailed off as my lips pressed into a smile.

I tried to keep my act together as I recalled how I’d spent the morning with Peter.

“He let me use his shower. When I came out all wrapped up in his towels… well, I’ve never had a man look at me like that. Let me tell you.”

Ginny inched closer to me on the sofa while Roman slid the brie wheel surrounded by pieces of baguette into my oven.

He closed the door with his hip, wiped his bread-crumb fingers on my dishcloth hanging off the handle, gathered our three champagne flutes, and brought them over to us.

He handed one to me and another to Ginny, sat down across from me in my armchair, and hoisted his glass in the air.

“Cheers to Katie finally meeting a good guy with a face worthy of sitting on.”

My eyes widened.

Ginny tapped her glass against Roman’s. “Here, here!”

“Guys, I don’t—”

“Don’t be a prude, Katie,” Ginny said. “It’s just a toast. But if I were you, I’d definitely use Peter as a bicycle seat.”

Roman snorted. “Good one, Gin.”

I rolled my eyes at the pair of them but clinked my glass against theirs anyway. We sipped our citrus and champagne.

Roman crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward to rest his elbow on his knee while he swirled his drink. “Tell us what happened after your shower.”

I smiled into my drink. “Well, he made me breakfast. Eggs and toast and coffee. And we sat outside on his front porch and listened to the birds while we ate. And then…”

“Yes?” Ginny and Roman prompted.

“And then I got into his lap and kissed him like I was giving him CPR.”

“Oh yes, you did!” Roman cried delightedly.

Ginny whimpered and pouted. “I’m so happy for you but so sad for me.”

“Don’t be a downer, Gin,” Roman scolded. “You’ll get your chance one day. Besides, we have a marriage pact, remember?”

Ginny frowned. “We made that like six years ago and I hardly think it stood the test of time.”

“What do you mean?”

“For starters, you came out of the closet,” Ginny said flatly.

“True,” Roman said, “but if we’re spitting truths here, be honest. You’ve known I was gay from the second you laid eyes on me.”

Ginny tapped her nails on the side of her glass. “I suppose you’re right.”

Roman nodded in a you-can’t-get-anything-past-me sort of way. “It’s not a marriage of lust or romance, Gin. Ours was a pact so we wouldn’t have to be alone when we turned fifty. If neither of us are in committed relationships, we both get the wedding of our dreams. To each other.”

I massaged my temples. “The two of you would have the most hideous wedding imaginable.”

Roman’s eyes widened with mock horror. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

I laughed. “Oh, come on, Roman! You’d be making sure your ensemble—dress or suit or whatever you decide—outshone Ginny’s. All the while, Ginny would be trying to find the biggest, sexiest, most memorable dress she possibly could. And which one of you would walk down the aisle?”

Ginny and Roman shared a look. Roman winced. “I supposed we didn’t iron out all the details.”

“It’s a wedding of circumstance, not realizing our dreams,” Ginny said. “I feel like we would both make compromises.”

“I’m not going,” I said. They glared at me. “I mean it. That sounds like a toxic trash fire and I have no interest in breathing my last breath as I try to catch one of your bouquets. And what, would I be both of your maid of honors?”

“Yes,” they said.

I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I’d rather jump in the ocean covered in maple syrup and blood and let the fish and the sharks have me.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Roman said, dejected.

“I second that,” Ginny said.

I shrugged, set my drink down on the coaster on my coffee table, and made my way into the kitchen to check on the brie. It was melted and soft looking, with crisp browning on the skin around the edges. “I think it’s done,” I announced as I donned my black oven mitts.

I returned to the living room with the cheese appetizer while Roman and Ginny went about bringing in the charcuterie board. We wasted little time digging into the melted brie and all three of us burned the roof of our mouths at the same time.

As we sat around fanning our mouths and trying to chase away the pain with sips of champagne, Roman nodded at me. “So what about the baby shower? Was it as difficult as you expected it to be?”

Roman, Ginny, and Jackson were the only three people in the world who knew I couldn’t carry babies.

After experiencing some lower abdomen pain for months on end and going to the doctor to check things out, I learned that I had an oddly shaped uterus, which in turn made it impossible for a fertilized egg to latch.

That had been the worst day of my life.

Every dream I’d ever had about my future vanished in a puff of smoke.

Poof.

Gone.

Six years later, I was still struggling with this truth on a daily basis. Sure, I could bury my head in the sand and stay so busy at work that I’d forget motherhood wasn’t in the cards for me, but all of that would come rushing back as soon as the workday ended and I was home alone.

It was better now than it had been, but it still hurt. A lot.

“It wasn’t easy,” I told my friends. “But I’m glad I went.

Jackson and Hailey deserve this and I want to be part of it.

I’m just going to have to take it day by day.

And having you guys in my corner helps. Thank you for all the pep talks and the love.

I don’t think I could have done it without you. ”

“We’ll always be here for you, Katie,” Ginny promised.

“And there are other ways to have what you want,” Roman reminded me for the hundred thousandth time since he’d learned about my rebellious uterus.

I nodded. “I know. Sorry, can we talk about something else? I don’t want to put a damper on the night.”

“Absolutely,” Ginny said.

Roman popped an olive in his mouth. “Tell us what it was like kissing Peter. Is he a good kisser? Did he get into it?”

I bit my bottom lip and blushed at the memory before launching into the details and making my two best friends in the whole wide world fan their faces and turn red just like me.

Oh yes, Peter had certainly gotten into it.

I could still feel the warmth of his hands on my skin—and the press of his cock between my thighs as I straddled him.