Then I’m terrified of how Kat’s going to react, because the last thing she told us about her infertility treatments was that they were still ongoing, and she wouldn’t offer more. She’s been frighteningly tight-lipped about the whole thing, to the point where I’ve been worried there’s something terribly wrong.
I think I might have been right, because Kat’s eyes are filling with tears.
But why is Nico smiling like that? He’s wearing almost the exact smug expression as—
It hits me like a brick dropped on my head.
I shout, “You’re pregnant, too?”
Nodding, Kat bursts into tears.
Nico puts his arms around her, laughs, and tucks Kat’s head into his neck. “We didn’t want to say anything until we were past twelve weeks, but yeah. We’re pregnant. Turns out there was nothin’ wrong with either of us, I just needed to wear looser briefs.”
Clutching his T-shirt in her fists, Kat bawls into his chest.
Brody says, “Wow. I guess me and Grace better get to work.”
I start to laugh and can’t stop. Then we’re all laughing, until Kenji shouts over at us, “What’s so funny, psychopaths?”
From inside the house, Magda grumbles an agreement.
“Come over here and we’ll tell you!” I call.
Kenji’s about to get up, but London leans over, rests her hand on his arm, and whispers something into his ear. Something that makes Kenji’s face go flaming red again.
He sends us a huge smile, waves a dismissive hand in our direction, and settles back into his chaise. “In a minute!”
Impressed, Brody says, “That’s a first. Kenji takes direction?”
Gazing at London admiringly, Barney says, “I’d love to take some direction from that one.”
“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” I murmur.
Kat wipes her face, sniffles, and whispers, “Gorgeous. That skin!”
A.J. asks, “Who’re we talking about?”
Trying not to be obvious that I’m talking about her in case she looks over, I smile brightly at A.J. and say between stiff lips, “London, Kenji’s date. She’s this really beautiful Asian girl with perfect—”
A.J. chuckles, and then starts to laugh, his big shoulders shaking.
“Why are you laughing?” I ask, confused.
He leans over the table. His voice low, he says, “I hate to break it to you, but London’s not a girl.”
Barney, Kat, Chloe, Nico, Brody, and I look at each other silently. No one dares to glance away from our table. I whisper, “A.J., I know you can’t see her, but she is definitely a girl.”
“Oh yeah?” He leans back, slings his arm around Chloe’s shoulders again, and says, “Okay. Tell me what size shoe she’s wearing.”
Everyone stares at me expectantly.
I hiss, “Why is this my job?”
Kat whispers, “Because you’re facing in the right direction! If we turn around it’ll be too obvious.”
But Brody beats me to it. He quietly says, “Holy cow. I had no idea they made heels in that size.”
A.J. says, “Told ya.”
Chloe leans in and whispers confidentially, “Spidey senses.”
A.J. shakes his head. “Nah. While you guys were all yammering in the car on the way over, me, Kenji, and London were in the backseat having a nice conversation about if waxing or shaving is the best way to get the hair off your balls.”
I drop my head onto my arms on the table and dissolve into such gales of laughter I can hardly breathe.
When I can catch my breath, I look up into the smiling faces of my best friends in the world, these people who know all the worst and best parts of me, and experience a profound sense of gratitude, so huge I feel moved to say a silent little prayer.
I look up to the sky, close my eyes, and think, Thank you.
The best churches don’t have stained glass windows or statues of dead saints or even ceilings and walls. You don’t need a building to find forgiveness. You don’t need communion wafers and holy water to be blessed.
And miracles are everywhere.
All you have to do is look.
First, to my developmental editor, Melody Guy, I owe you a tremendous debt of thanks. You are such a smart, warm, talented, wonderful lady. For all the ways you make my books better, for all the things you catch that I’ve let fall through the cracks, for all your insight, humor, and tactful suggestions, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Anyone reading this who hates a book that ends in a cliff-hanger should also thank Melody. At the end of chapter thirty-five when Grace flew over the cliff off PCH, I wanted to end the book right there and leave you all “hanging” until the next installment. (Get it? Cliff-hanger?) I was clapping my hands and cackling in glee at the thought, until Melody sent me a very lovely email pointing out that not only was that not a nice thing to do to my readers, but a literal cliff-hanger was kinda funny.
And not the ha-ha kind of funny.
So thank you, Melody, for letting me know in the nicest possible way when I’m off my rocker, and saving me from a lot of hate mail from angry readers.
To my team at Montlake Romance who has been so amazing since I was first published four years ago, big hugs. I am eternally grateful for the support you’ve given me. Maria Gomez, my sharp-as-tacks acquiring editor, and Jessica Poore, author support gal supreme, I appreciate you and am so happy to know you personally as well as professionally. You’re both stars.
To all the other people at Amazon Publishing who work so hard—the cover designers who are so patient with my endless revisions, the copy editors who have to slog through my ragged prose, and the marketing and advertising teams I never speak to but whose efforts I reap the fruits of, thank you. I’m sure there are more of you I’m forgetting, but please give me a pass and know I truly appreciate you all.
Eleni Caminis, I love you. Full stop.
Dad, though you’re gone, thank you for that star in the sky, and that dream, and that phone call. You were always the best at making sure everyone else was okay.
Mom, thank you for teaching me to speak my mind, laugh at haters, give zero fucks, and to not mess with a Jersey girl. Invaluable lessons, all.
Whew! Where are we? Oh yes—JAY.
There is a reason why every. Single. One. of my books is dedicated to you, Mr. Geissinger. That reason might be that I’m building a case for my innocence after I murder you in your sleep, burn down the house, and flee to my new life in Cabo San Lucas, but it might also be that you are the sole reason I am who I am, can do what I do, and am happy. Thank you for your constant support and for making me laugh every day.
To my readers and fans who are part of Geissinger’s Gang, thank you for supporting my work, spreading the word about my books, and spending time with me on social media. I write for myself but also for you, too, and your enthusiastic feedback is invaluable. Thanks for making my journey so fun!
J.T. Geissinger is the bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and romantic suspense. She has received the Prism Award for Best First Book and the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, and was a finalist for the prestigious RITA Award from the Romance Writers of America. J.T. has also been a finalist for the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.
As both an admitted bookaholic and lover of wine, J.T.’s idea of heaven is reading undisturbed in the bathtub with a glass of Syrah. Check out her website, www.JTGeissinger.com, or join her Facebook reader’s group, Geissinger’s Gang, for the chance to take part in live chats, contests, and giveaways, and to get more information about her works in progress and advance reader copies.
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Sin With Me (Bad Habit) Page 34