“I have never gotten that color on my face except with a brush. Not a friend.”

I smile and wave at the lights above us. “These lights fluster anyone.”

I run away to get a good shade of lipstick to match the mess I made on her face, and I roll my eyes at myself and get back to finish her up, wondering what to say about the game.

* * *

That night from my landline, while on a conference call rehashing the party, Wynn and Rachel make fun of me because they saw me kiss Tahoe at midnight.

“What does that say, Gina?” Wynn insists as I check on the vegan pizza I’m cooking for Trent and me.

“That I was drunk?”

“No, really,” Wynn says. “What does it say?”

The fact that Wynn is so insistent makes me pause in the middle of my kitchen.

I pull out my cell and read his text, so determined for things not to mean anything at all, I finally answer:

Can’t. But drinks are on me if you win!

There.

Just what any buddy would answer.

“Emmett told me Tahoe spent quite a substantial amount of time last night questioning him about Trent. What he does. Last name. Family origins.”

“What?” I ask, surprised.

Rachel is quiet on the other end of the line.

And I fall just as quiet with this bit of information. But then I remind myself it doesn’t mean anything at all.

“He’s ape man like that, we’re friends, you guys know,” I finally say.

“Guys…” Rachel begins. “I’m four weeks pregnant.”

* * *

The news completely wipes away any other thoughts from my mind, which is probably a good thing. I tell Trent all about it when he arrives at my place, and I tell him we’re invited over to the Saints’ tomorrow night for a mini celebration.

“I wish I could, babe, but I have a dinner with a possible new client tomorrow. How about I meet you there?”

We talk a little while after dining on my pizza, but when I kiss him good night as he leaves and I finally go to bed, I keep staring at the ceiling, thinking of Rachel with a little baby in her arms.

Wynn and Emmett pick me up on their way to the party the next evening, and we all talk about it in the car.

“Huge step,” Emmett says. “Huge.”

“Emmett, I know, but isn’t it exciting?’” Wynn presses.

I’m basically sitting quietly in the back of the car—nervous and excited for Rachel. Rachel has always been so career-oriented that Wynn and I simply cannot believe our closest friend is having a baby in September.

As soon as we arrive, hugs and congratulations are exchanged, and then the men and the women separate. The girls sit in the sumptuous, modern living area while Saint, Emmett, and Callan hang out by the bar. The guys rib Saint about payback for all the mischief he caused when he was young.

I know that Tahoe had a game tonight, but I keep glancing at the time on my mobile, wondering when and if he’ll show up. I’ve grown so used to seeing him whenever there’s any Saint event, I hadn’t expected to miss the sight of him. I need to see him to confirm that nothing changed after New Year’s.

Absolutely nothing at all.

Wynn is on a roll with the baby talk, even more than Rachel, unbelievably. Though Rachel told us they’d already been trying, and that when she found out she was pregnant, she didn’t tell Saint for three days. “I first rush-ordered a little baby tee from a customization store online that said ‘Daddy’s little Saint,’ and one night when he came from work, I set it right on his side of the bed over his pillow. Oh guys! You should’ve seen his face when we finally retired for the night and he saw that tiny little tee. His face went from disbelief, to total shock, to this gorgeous laugh and a hug so tight I thought he’d break my bones.”

“Awwwwww!” Wynn says.

I laugh happily, feel warm even though I’m still at the shocked stage myself.

Even when Rachel goes to check up on the snacks, Wynn continues to talk to me about babies.

“You know, after that pregnancy scare at Rachel and Saint’s wedding, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of babies. I see them everywhere. I have never seen so many babies in my life. They’re in the soup, I tell you. I keep wondering if Emmet is the kind of father I want for my kids. Am I the kind of mother I want for my kids…”

“Wynn,” I say drolly, “you have no other choice on that one.”

“I have a choice in self-improvement, though,” she counters. “Obviously for change to work you need to be aware of the problem, accept that it needs fixing, and then, actively try to fix it. Like I’m disorganized, but now that I’ve moved in with Emmet, I’m trying not to be so messy—though it’s nice for my flaws not to matter that much to him, I guess.”

“Oh noooo.” I laughingly shake my head. “I’ll be dead before I’m seen without makeup. I sleep with it on if a guy stays over. I set the alarm and put on makeup before Trent wakes, that’s how much it needs to be on my face.”

“Speaking of, I like that Cleopatra look.”

“Thank you. I worked hours on it.” I grin and wink as I edge closer to her. “Do you think the eyeliner was too much?”

“Why is it so important?”

Tahoe Roth steps off the elevator, and it’s hard not to notice the wow look on Wynn’s face when she sees him in his casual jeans and comfy sweater.

“I do this for a living. It’s my presentation card,” I tell her. “Nobody wants a fat dietician or a clown-faced makeup artist.”