“No.” She forced a smile. It had been a few weeks since all that, but it still got to her from time to time. “Maybe a little. Just everything.”

“You need some extra time off?” Phil shook his head.

“No, Phil. Really, I need to come in. Besides, it’s been five months since...” She trailed off. She still couldn’t say it. What kind of wimp wallowed for five months? She hadn’t been pregnant that long, just under three months, though she had been with Steven for close to a year. Her pregnancy had been thoroughly unexpected, and to say that it had caused uproar in her family was an understatement.

Despite her family’s lack of enthusiasm, Annika had allowed herself to become excited at the prospect of being a mother. She had been in love, she was getting married and she was having a baby. Her path may not have been straight, but she was happy. Her family had been in the midst of quickly throwing together a wedding until blinding cramps had her in the ER in the middle of the night, changing her life again.

“I need to work.”

Phil grinned at her. “Well, then, let’s get out of your head and back to work, eh? That new guy’s waiting to stare into his soup.”

Annika let out a small chuckle. Even though she had tried not to, she’d been watching Chopper Guy while she worked. He hadn’t so much as sipped his bourbon as he had stared at it. And from time to time, he scanned the room and rested his gaze on her. Though she pretended not to notice, every time those green eyes found her, a little thrill went through her body.

“Got it, boss.”

Phil placed a hand on her shoulder. “Clara has your favorite waiting in the back.”

Mrs. P. was forever feeding her, but Annika was still grateful every time she remembered to save a generous bowl of the crab soup for her.

“Nothing gets between Clara and feeding the ones she loves.” Phil grinned and squeezed Annika’s shoulder. “She’s got plenty.”

Content with love, Annika smiled and headed for the window that opened to the kitchen. Clara, or Mrs. P., as everyone else called her, was quiet and introverted, the yin to Phil’s yang. Her cooking was amazing, and more than once she hit Annika up for Indian recipes, always looking for new dishes to learn. On cue, Mrs. P. hit the bell again for Annika to pick up the soup.

Annika grabbed the soup, inhaling the comforting aroma of cream and spices. This soup rivaled her mother’s khichdi for best comfort food ever.

She brought it to chiseled-jawed, double-dimpled, green-eyed, superhot Chopper Guy. Oh, God! Was she a teenager again? She showed him the spoon before pointedly placing it next to the bowl. “So you don’t have to stare at it.”