Jess hadn’t forgotten that conversation—it had set her on an unexpected course that changed her life. But she wasn’t going to tell Libby that. Sometimes her best friend’s competitive nature, which extended to her need to be right, needled like a burr.

Libby’s first pregnancy had ironed a wrinkle in Jess’s rusted-on belief that motherhood would never be part of her life. Up until then, being a mother wasn’t something she’d ever wanted or needed. No way was she ever risking doing to a kid what her mother had done to her. But Libby’s second pregnancy turned that wrinkle into an unexpected but permanent crease. Whenever she cuddled her goddaughters, the urge to hold a child of her own brought tears to her eyes.

The strong response shocked her. Sure, she’d shed a tear when the attorney’s fees for Linda’s shoplifting spree had vaporized her nest egg, but prior to that, the last time she’d cried she’d been twelve. She’d cut off the tears with brutal efficiency when she realized crying didn’t stop the hurt or pain, dent her hunger, change her mother’s behavior or lessen her longing. All it did was give her red and puffy eyes, churn her stomach and leave her feeling more alone than ever. She’d replaced crying with action. It was better to do something—anything—than sit sobbing like a weak and pathetic kid.

So, when she’d hugged Libby’s daughters and breathed in their sweet baby scent, she’d been shocked and scared by the threat of tears. Her initial response was to throw logic at the problem. Children were a long-term investment with no fiscal return. They choked spontaneity. They were dependent and needy and she hated neediness in any form. They more than interfered with career paths—they killed them. The list of reasons not to have a child grew but none of them completely squashed the need. If anything, it strengthened it.

When Libby flew up to Sydney for their annual girls’ weekend and announced she was pregnant yet again, something hard and soft and messy formed inside Jess. It took up a permanent position, sitting heavily behind her sternum. It featured elements of delight for her friend and heartache and disappointment for herself and all of it was wrapped in a massive and unexpected emerald bow of envy—the type and intensity she hadn’t experienced since Libby had flashed a pavé-set diamond engagement ring at her, announced she was marrying Nick and asked Jess to be a bridesmaid.

The strength of the combined emotions had unwisely propelled her hand to the neck of a champagne bottle. Three glasses in, she was drunkenly touching Libby’s belly, the bubbles of alcohol lobbing cannon balls into the steel-reinforced walls she’d erected long before she’d met Libby.

“Do you know how freaking lucky you are? You’ve got the trifecta. A career you love, a man who not only adores you but is a great hands-on dad and now, three kids.”