Meg lifted her glass of what looked like sparkling cider and leaned into her husband.
Gabi’s mother was already a couple of glasses into the wine. She didn’t have far to go until “nap” time.
A few more people pushed into the circle and raised their glasses.
“I know we’re all here for Gabi . . . to support her. But I also know my sister,” Val said. “She’s genuinely shy enough to avoid that attention. So this toast isn’t only for her . . . it’s for everyone. For friends. The kind that stick by you . . . support you whenever and wherever you need them.”
Val lifted his glass and the room filled with the clicking of glasses.
Gabi took in the faces and the glasses.
Gwen was drinking milk . . .
Karen held cider like Meg. “Hey!”
“What?” Hunter asked.
Ignoring him, she narrowed her gaze toward Gwen. “Milk? You’re drinking milk?”
Gwen glanced at her glass and closed her lips.
Eliza stopped sipping her champagne before she said, “Gwen’s knocked up.”
Meg squealed.
Sam giggled and sipped her wine. “Don’t look at me. We’re good, right, Blake?”
“Diapers and middle of the night food runs . . . I’m good,” Blake said.
Gwen lifted her milk in the air. “Three months along.”
Rick turned to Judy. “Time to step up to the plate, don’t ya think, babe?”
Judy hit her husband and Meg spit out her drink.
Judy turned red. “Plus sign this morning. I wanted to wait to tell you.”
Rick, who was all smiles, stumbled back. “Wait . . . what?”
Blake smacked Rick on the back. “It’s about to become an unholy hormonal mess. I say we leave now, men. Come back in nine months.”
There was another round of toasts . . .
The only ones feeling the buzz at the end of the night were a few good women, and a gaggle of men.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ever since she’d returned from her brief captivity, Hunter had been by her side, offering his support. He tucked her into bed, spent time with her until she fell asleep. But when she woke, the space beside her was cold and empty.
The kitchen held the usual suspects. Solomon sat beside Andrew sipping coffee, a stack of pancakes were piled next to the stove.
“Mornin’, Mrs. B.”
Andrew jumped up and fixed her a plate. He’d gotten in the habit of not asking and simply serving since her return. She wasn’t about to tell the man no, and he knew it.
She took a bite to appease the man. “You added cinnamon.”
“I’ve been online researching recipes.”
Gabi took a second bite and smiled. “Where’s Hunter?”
The men did that looking thing she was getting used to . . . they looked at each other, said a thousand words without uttering one.
“Andrew?”
“He’s a . . . at the uhm . . .” His stuttering had the pancake in her stomach turning to stone.
“Spit it out.”
“The condo. He slept at the penthouse last night.”
From the way the men were staring at her, waiting for her reaction, Gabi knew it wasn’t a trip to his flat to retrieve his personal belongings.
“Oh.” She pushed her plate away and stood.
Gabi took her coffee, grabbed a throw from the back of the couch as she made her way outside. She opened the French doors that spilled onto a deep, covered patio. A double chaise sat on one end and looked out over the backyard. The gray skies and moist drizzle matched her mood and offered the perfect quiet to reflect on her life.
At least now she knew where Hunter was spending his nights. She thought perhaps he’d taken to a guest room, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He didn’t need her any longer. Noah had paid off the mother of his child and had taken Hayden to a suburb of Boston. According to Hunter, his brother was looking for work in the city. What kind of work, he didn’t know. But he hadn’t asked for any money. Then a registered letter arrived with Hayden’s official birth certificate. Noah’s name was posted in the box under “father.”
When Hunter had told her the story of how he convinced his brother to leave, she’d never been more proud of the man she’d married. She didn’t doubt he was ready to take Hayden as his own son, but he was doing it for all the wrong reasons.
Still, when she passed through the unused nursery, a deep part of Gabi ached.
It was starting to look like she was going to be the childless aunt. The woman who couldn’t marry the right man. Too bad she didn’t care for cats. A house full of them would complete the cliché.
The coffee had gone cold, and despite the prickle of her skin, Gabi huddled under the blanket and watched the drops of rain fall from the sky.