“I will ask Ria for a loan and get my own apartment. I can do that. And this has taught me that I am ready to date,” she said firmly. “I am not a poor, wounded girl. I am no longer stuck and scared. I am here to live my life. I need to start doing that. And if Ace is not interested, I will find someone who is.”

Atta girl.

If I had any hot dresses, I’d offer her one so she could go be young and have fun. Unfortunately for both of us, my dressers were stocked with maternity clothes, comfort clothes, and mismatched thrift buys in varied sizes.

Not exactly a look anyone wanted to rock in the club.

Unless it was a book club.

Held entirely online.

“Thank you, Mac,” Kat said, though I hadn’t really done anything. “Hollywood was right. You are amazing.”

I may not have done anything, but I was happy to accept that kind of compliment any day.

Ward must’ve heard his nickname or the lull in conversation because he stuck his head in to see if the coast was clear. Since no dramatic meltdown or violent riot was taking place in his living room, he took the corner seat on the couch before pulling my back to his side. I stretched my legs out and practically moaned at how good it felt.

His arm wrapped around my chest, and he pressed a kiss behind my ear before whispering, “Knew you could do it, baby.”

I leaned into him, warmth and pride and happiness saturating my soul.

We’d barely discussed the specifics of my job, but he’d known I was good at it. He’d known he could trust me to help. He’d believed in me.

The swell of happiness at that moment was already so good, my hormones wanted me to cry. But that wasn’t enough for Ward. Nope. He needed to take the moment to near perfection by lowering his hand to rest on my stomach while he flipped through the channels.

Casual. Nonchalant. Comfortable.

The only thing keeping it from a ten out of ten was that we had company.

And one of those guests was biting my toe.

I just barely stopped myself from jerking my leg, which would’ve been horrendous to kick a kitten. But there was no stopping the embarrassing shriek that squeaked out.

“Dumpster, don’t bite,” Ward said, swatting at the tiny fluffball.

It was unfazed and threw hands—or paws—back at him.

“You okay?” he asked me.

“Just startled me. Is it yours?”

For all I knew, Kat had ridden the bicycle with the cat in a basket, ET-style.

“Yeah. Dumpster.”

“That’s… interesting. Family name?”

Ward chuckled as he patted my belly. With his hand flat, I belatedly noticed a cut and some swelling on his knuckles.

Something else to ask him about.

Maybe.