Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
“Okay, fine. It’s not all foot rubs and fun cravings. Greyson’s been sweet-talking our chef at The Haven. Since he and Freya put me on a prenatal nutrition plan, I haven’t had anything good to eat.” Wren reached for another piece of bread with zero hesitation. “Everything’s organic, balanced, measured to the gram, and tastes like the forest floor after a rainstorm.”
“What a weird way to say I love you.”
“He does love me. He’d flip out if he knew I was eating this.”
“Mmm, how delightfully un-controlling and not at all Hawthorne of him.”
“Stop. You know how they all are. None of it’s done maliciously. He read a book that said certain foods were better for baby development. I appreciate him being so involved.”
“You’re right. Most men don’t even read, let alone think about their wives’ fiber intake.”
“Pooping is the oldest sign of good health, I’ll have you know.”
“Dear God.” She took a long gulp of wine, familiar warmth settling behind her ribs. “How has this become our lunch conversation?”
Wren’s gaze followed her glass, then drifted to the bags shoved in the corner of the booth. “So what are you really doing with all those bags?”
“I told you. Vision board.”
“With jute twine?”
“It’s a rustic vision board. Very Pinterest. I’m aiming for a coastal grandma-core aesthetic.”
Wren narrowed her eyes in that particular way that meant she’d file the information for future excavations rather than press the issue now. “It would have been more convincing if you said the rope was for some sort of BDSM kink. You’re up to something.”
How the hell had she spotted the rope?
“I’m always up to something. That’s what makes me interesting and you so beautifully paranoid.” Jocelyn lifted her slice and took a big bite, making it impossible to answer any more questions.
Thankfully, Wren did the same and moaned as they fell into a welcomed silence filled with orgasmic cheese and dough.
Afternoon light threw sunny squares across the checkered tablecloth as they ate like women who hadn’t been properly fed in months. Every time the kitchen door swung open, it released a gust of basil and roasted garlic.
There was barely a crumb left on the table when they finished. Wren’s appetite had grown from that of a small bird’s to that of a grown man’s.
“You’re definitely having a boy.”
“That’s what I think.”
“And Greyson?”
“He thinks it’s a girl.”
“He just wants a little you.”
“I am his favorite.” She laughed.
Jocelyn smiled because it was true. Wren really was Greyson’s absolute favorite person in the whole world. Eight billion people in the world, and he took one look at Wren and decided, “This is my person.” He loved her more than his career and maybe even his brothers, which was saying a lot, because the Hawthorne brothers were always a package deal.
“You two really are perfectly matched. It’s so pure and natural, even the envy doesn’t feel toxic. It’s just…there, basking in your disgustingly radiant rays of happiness.”
“Says the woman who sells happy endings for a living.”
“You make it sound like I run a shady massage parlor on the outskirts of town.”
“Don’t you?” They both laughed.
“Touché.”
Wren patted her belly and sighed in contentment. “Speaking of happy endings…have you had—”
“No.” Jocelyn cut her off a little too quickly. “Nothing worth mentioning at least.”
Wren eyed her skeptically. “Maybe it’s the weather.”
Jocelyn frowned. “You and Greyson?” No way they were already in a dry spell.
Wren shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s still incredible, but it’s not as frequent.”
“Well, ergonomically speaking, you’re a little top-heavy at the moment. Are you even in the mood?”
She arched a brow. “You’d be surprised. It’s actually one of my cravings.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“Well, tell Grey to handle his chores. What the hell’s he doing?”
“He’s been worried.”
“About what, poking the baby?” Jocelyn snorted. “Please, his dick can’t be that big.”
“No, he’s been concerned about Soren.”
Jocelyn looked up from the mound of grated cheese she’d been dusting into a pile. “What about Soren?”
Wren shrugged, her eyes strangely locked on Jocelyn. “I thought you might know.”
“Know what?”
“That he’s been under a lot of stress since taking over as CEO.”
“Why would I know that? Soren and I don’t talk about our feelings. We can barely stand being in the same room with each other.”
Something flashed in her friend’s eyes before she looked away. “Well, Grey’s been worried about his stress levels. You know how serious he gets.”
Soren definitely had a tense side. The fishery was left to all three brothers, but Greyson and Logan didn’t seem to want anything to do with the corporate end of things. Logan showed some interest in the beginning, but his interest fizzled shortly after Magnus died.
“I’m sure Soren will find his way—”
“That’s just it. The future of the company isn’t solely Soren’s decision. There’s a board of trusties, and several of the members are older and want things to continue the way they’ve always been. There’s a big vote coming up, and Soren is using it to restructure the whole company. He’s been pressuring Grey and Logan to get more involved, but they are as involved as they plan to be right now. Which, as you can imagine, Soren isn’t taking well. Greyson’s worried he’s going to give himself a heart attack if he doesn’t stop trying to control things outside of his control.”