Rebecca grinned and put a hand on her cutely rounded belly. “And tell me that you made two trays because I need one just for myself. These other bitches can share.”

Kincaid laughed, the arrival of her friends softening the sharp edges of her panic. “Sweetie pie, I made three trays and grabbed a big jar of fresh strawberry jam from the farmers market. I’ve got two pregnant ladies to feed. I’m not gonna mess around.”

Kincaid’s other friend, Taryn, smiled from behind Rebecca’s shoulder. Her own baby bump was barely showing beneath her flowy maroon top, but her brown skin was glowing with those magic baby hormones—or maybe that was just happiness. Either way, Kincaid wished it could be bottled so she could slather some of that glow onto her own skin.

“Bec talks like she hasn’t eaten in forever,” Taryn said with an eye roll. “When I picked her up, Wes was cleaning up from making her chocolate muffins this morning.”

“Hey, this kid in here loves its carbs. Plus”—Rebecca tipped up her chin like an aristocrat—“I can’t help that my husband is a chef and has to test recipes. It’d be rude not to be his taste tester. I’m really doing it for him.”

Taryn snorted. “Yep, totally self-sacrificing. But hey, if you need an extra taste tester, I’m always willing to come over.” Taryn turned her brown eyes on Kincaid, her expression going comically serious. “Shaw keeps trying to make me smoothies. Green ones.”

“Green smoothies?” Kincaid asked in horror, taking the pan off the heat and shaking her head. “Oh, bless his handsome little heart.”

Taryn smirked as she stepped over to the island and poured herself a glass of orange juice. “That’s what I get for falling for an athlete. Killer abs and a health streak. He’s been researching all the best foods for pregnancy and trying to whip them up in the blender. It’s really sweet, but word to the wise, garlic is no good in a smoothie.”

“Ick.” Rebecca blanched. “I’ll send over some baked goods. Wes can throw in some whole grains and call them healthy.”

“Bless you,” Taryn said, handing Rebecca a glass of juice and then toasting her.

Despite Kincaid’s I’ve-completely-blown-up-my-life internal freak-out, a wash of warmth went through her at the sight of her two friends, pregnant and happy. She’d never doubted that her friends would find their way, but it had only been two years since the four of them had rekindled their former friendship. They’d reconnected while filming a documentary about the Long Acre shooting. They’d all been pretty lost in their lives at the time, and now her three friends had found their happy place—and love.

Three couples…and Kincaid.

She probably should be jealous since she was in the middle of a crisis of her own making and didn’t have a husband, boyfriend, or even a cute guy in town to call up for baked goods or a fun night. Okay, well, she did have a few guys she could call if she really wanted to. Just lately, she hadn’t found herself wanting any of them. But truly, she was thrilled for her friends. One of her favorite hobbies was playing matchmaker, and she’d had a little part in each of her friends’ romances. So she was totally taking credit for their big ol’ smiles and growing bellies.