“Oh, I like those,” Mia says. “I always thought Annalise would be a great name for a little girl, if I ever had one.”
I stab my salad, wishing she’d stop making me feel so damn guilty. I’m already willing to share my man with her—must she yearn for his babies, too? Maybe she’ll relax about the baby thing once I give birth. Then she’ll have a baby to hold and play with whenever the mood strikes her.
Yeah, I like this plan.
I won’t bring her in yet, but if this arrangement works out, we can include her in the family aspect, too. We have plenty of little people between us to meet her maternal needs. I just don’t want Mateo impregnating her. That’s not unreasonable.
“We’ll probably go with something bookish,” Elise tells us. “Candace Jane, maybe.”
“Jane Austen?” Mia guesses.
“Jane Eyre. But sure, Austen, too. Adrian’s a big reader and he used to tutor me back in the day, so it seems appropriate to use one of those names.”
“That’s sexy,” I state, nodding at her. “The teacher-student thing? I like that a lot.”
Elise smiles, a little bashful, as she gets another forkful of salad. “It wasn’t like that. He was a perfect gentleman. Obnoxiously so. I didn’t even know he liked me that way.”
Mia grins, taking a sip of wine since she’s the only one of us not knocked up. “I can’t picture Adrian as a tutor. He’s so gruff. Did he grumble every time you got something wrong?”
Elise beams, shaking her head. “He’s never like that with me.”
“We should throw you a bookish baby shower,” I tell Elise.
“I don’t know if we’ll have a baby shower,” she says, shaking her head. “We don’t really have friends, and we can just buy what we need.”
“But it’s part of the whole pregnancy package,” Mia objects, her eyes going wide. “You’re supposed to have a party. Who cares if it’s just us? We can still give you presents and a cassata cake for Adrian.”
I nod decisively. “It’s settled. You’re having a baby shower.”
“You’re not,” Elise points out.
“I already had a baby. And my fiancé is richer than God. It would be insulting for me to accept gifts.”
Elise rolls her eyes. “Well, if your fiancé would’ve paid mine what he was worth for five years instead of giving him me, mine would be richer than God, too.”
“Adrian is pretty awesome,” I agree.
“I also think Adrian is awesome,” Mia adds. “But I am fiancé-less, not pregnant, and my guy’s still lower level, so I have nothing to contribute to this wealthy fiancé competition.”
“I’m your sugar mama,” I remind her. “You get Mateo money by default.”
I’m also ready to tell him he should buy her a ring, too, so she doesn’t feel left out. I’m getting way too into this sister wives plan that I didn’t even want to happen. I should probably relax until I find out if everyone else likes it.
“Do you think Vince will ever propose?” Elise asks Mia, though she looks a little conflicted even as she asks.
Mia doesn’t hesitate, grabbing her wine glass and taking a sip before saying, “Nope.”
Chapter Nine
Mia
I really do like Francesca’s room.
I like Kate Chopin a lot less, it turns out, but I have to read her stupid book for my literature class. It’s so frustrating and boring. I think I’d rather die than flip another page. Francesca’s bed is so comfortable; I’m nestled up in the middle of it, desperately trying to stay awake. But this chick is the worst. I know I’m supposed to feel for her, but man, what a selfish jerk.
I reread the same paragraph for the second time. I’m so bored and my mind keeps drifting.
Then I hear the bedroom door open.
I glance up to see who comes through the arch, expecting Meg since Maria wouldn’t come in so late unannounced.
It’s Mateo.
My heart drops right out of my chest cavity. Actually, I think it falls all the way out of my body and gets lost somewhere in the ocean of blankets.
What the hell is he doing in my bedroom?
“Um… are you lost?” I ask, since he hasn’t looked at me yet.
Instead of answering me, he frowns with displeasure at the empty wall to the right of the entry hall. In his room there’s a chair, and as he inexplicably peels his suit jacket off, he murmurs, “This isn’t right.”
My eyes are glued to the jacket he is now abandoning on the floor.
“This room needs some remodeling,” he states.
Kate Chopin completely forgotten, I push myself up in the bed, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest.
Oh, my god, why is he coming over to my bed like he’s in his own room?
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to scoot back even more, but there’s nowhere to go.
Finally, his gaze meets mine as he unfastens the cuff of his shirt. “Undressing.”