The Baby the Billionaire Demands

“We all were,” said Lola.

“I thought I’d never have what I wanted most.” Tears rose to Hallie’s eyes. “A family. A home.”

“And I wanted love,” Tess said, a dreamy smile tracing her lips. “Love that would last forever.”

“I was the only one who was practical,” Lola grumbled. “Unlike you two numbskulls, I knew money made the world go ’round.”

The other two stared at her, then burst into a laugh.

“What?” Lola said, looking between them indignantly.

“You can’t fool us,” chided Tess, still snickering.

“Yeah, Lola. The jig is up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You never wanted money, you old softie.” Hallie grinned. “You wanted family and home and love, like the rest of us.”

“Don’t worry,” Tess said, patting her hand. “Your secret’s safe with us.”

For a moment, Lola looked disgruntled. Then she sighed, leaning back in the comfortable patio chair, as she reached for her own glass of sparkling water with lemon. “All right,” she said softly. She smiled at them. “You got me. That was what I really wanted, all along.”

Tess squeezed her hand, and then all three women leaned back in their chairs, relishing the warmth of the June afternoon, sipping identical drinks, as they watched their husbands argue over the best way to barbecue and their babies play in the sunshine.

Flashing the husbands a guilty glance, Hallie whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”

“We have no secrets now,” said Lola, waving her glass airily.

“Tell us,” Tess begged.

Hallie blushed, then she looked up with a smile so bright, her brown eyes glowed. “There’s a reason I’m drinking sparkling water tonight, instead of sangria.”

“Me, too,” breathed Tess.

Lola sat up straight in her chair. “Me, too.”

The three women stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“All of us together—”

“Pregnant again—”

“Friends forever—”

And in a loud burst of noise, they all hugged each other in a raucous cacophony of laughter and tears.

On the other side of the garden, the three men frowned, looking across the yard at their wives.

“I wonder what that’s all about,” said Cristiano.

“Could they be talking about us?” wondered Prince Stefano.

“Doubtful,” said Rodrigo. While the other two men were distracted, he took the opportunity to commandeer the grill. Let the Italians stick to pasta, he thought. Only Spaniards knew parrillada. And he knew Lola liked her steaks spicy, like her man. Like her life.

“What could make them cheer like that?” Cristiano pondered.

“Yes, what?” Stefano frowned.