The Last Boyfriend

would serve as the dessert and champagne bar.

Clare may have opted against a white wedding, but her wedding shower was going full-out.

“Gifts there, food there, desserts and champagne here.” Hands on hips, Hope turned a circle in The Dining Room. “You did a great job on her chair.”

“I amazed myself.”

They’d positioned one of the high-backed chairs to face the room. An enormous bow of white tulle crowned the top, its tails flowing to the floor. Garlands of white and pale, pale pink twined around the rungs, the arms, the legs.

“I forget how much I like girly stuff until I have a chance to do some.”

Gorgeous red heels clicking on hardwood, Hope walked over to shift candles minutely. “I’m going to put some wine, some nibbles in The Lounge so people can wander around, settle down wherever they like.”

“You know a lot of people coming haven’t seen the place yet. You’re going to get hit up for tours.”

“Already figured on it. It’s just too bad it’s really not warm enough so we can spread out into The Courtyard. Anyway, the place looks great, and we look . . .” She turned, hooked an arm through Avery’s so they reflected together in the gold-framed mirror. “Fabulous.”

“Agreed.”

“So . . . Pre-party champagne?”

“Twist my arm.”

They went into the kitchen where Hope poured two flutes. She clinked hers against Avery’s. “To maids of honor and godmothers.”

“That would be us.”

“And in about eight months, we’ll be hosting a baby shower.”

“Four kids. Whew.” Avery took a drink, then hoisted her glass again. “More power to them.”

“They’ve got it. Loves runs the engine.”

“You think?”

“I do.” Hope slid onto a stool. “How long do you think they can keep this a secret? The two of them are absolutely radiant.”

“Most people will think that’s about the wedding, and part of it is. If they can keep it quiet until after the honeymoon—that’s Clare’s goal anyway—it gives them a little breathing room.”

“I can’t believe you kept it from me for an entire day.”

“I was dying to tell you.” In her spring green dress, Avery hopped onto her own stool, tugged down the narrow skirt. “And I would’ve come over and filled you in after work, but the whole Owen thing was so weird.”

“What are the chances?” Because it still amused her, Hope leaned back and laughed. “Seriously, he turns the corner in the drugstore just as you’re buying the test kit.”

“Fate’s twisted little joke on him.”

“Poor guy. Imagine what was going through his mind.”

“That’s just it. I can’t, or not clearly—and I usually get Owen’s mind. But he was so serious. I can’t figure out if he was mad, scared, what.”

“A combo of both, I imagine.”

“Even after I explained?” It continued to nag at her, just a little. “We both brushed it aside, but really, I can’t be sure. Mad and scared because maybe I was, or maybe I was and hadn’t said anything.”

“I’d guess he had to process the okay, it’s Clare, but what if it had been? Didn’t you?”

“Maybe. A little. But only because I had to think what if we’d gone down that road after his reaction. You know Owen by now. He’s a planner. Everything in its time, in its place. He’s the guy who actually checks the expiration date on the milk carton before he buys it.”

“So do I.”

“Which is why you get him. An unplanned pregnancy?” Avery rolled her eyes. “That would shake the very foundation of his life plan.”

“What’s his life plan?”

“I don’t know, but you can bet he’s got one.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Hope topped off their flutes. “I say that because I share a lot of sensibilities and traits with him. Yes, he probably has a basic plan, which includes goals, achievements, events, steps. But he’s also capable of adjusting the plan.” She lifted a hand, gesturing around her. “I did.”

“Sure, he can adjust.” Organized and efficient wasn’t rigid, she told herself. It was just . . . a little stiff by her personal gauge.

“Okay, since we’re playing what-if? If I’d been buying that kit for myself, and if the results had been positive, he’d adjust, and plan out from there. The first step of the plan would be marriage.”

“That annoys you?”

“No. No. He’d see that as doing the right thing, the necessary thing. I wouldn’t want to get married because it’s the right thing.”

“Better that than the wrong thing,” Hope pointed out.

“You know what I mean. I’d want to get married because I want to get married, I’m ready, in love, excited about the idea of spending my life with someone.”

Because they were there, Hope took one of the little pastel mints from a bowl on the island. “You’d say no.”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. You’d say no because you’d feel obligated to prove a point, and to let him off the hook—both of those in equal measure.” Recrossing her legs, Hope studied Avery over her next sip of champagne. “I can take care of myself, and you’re not obligated to marry me. Share responsibility for the child, yes, be a vital and integral part of the child’s life, yes. But under no obligation to you, individually.”

“That sounds hard-line.”

“I don’t think so. It sounds like you—pride, caution, heart, tangled up with parental issues.”

“Would they have gotten married if she hadn’t been pregnant with me?” A bit grimly, Avery took a gulp of champagne. “I don’t think so.”

“If they hadn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here wondering about it. They made a choice; you’re the result.”

Avery lifted a shoulder. “The Hope Beaumont Practical School of Logic.”

“It generally works. Listen, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if Jonathan hadn’t made his choice—which led to mine. I’ve thought about that, a lot, in the past months. I’m happy here, happier than I was when I was with Jonathan, when I thought my life was proceeding according to my very solid, very Practical School of Logic plans.”

Avery considered a moment. “I get your point, but, Hope, Jonathan was an asshole.”

On a laugh, Hope lifted her glass. “Yes, but I thought he was my asshole.” She checked her watch. “We should start putting the rest of the food out.”

They’d barely begun when Clare tapped on The Lobby door.

“I know I’m a little early,” she began when Avery answered. “I dropped the kids off at the new house—which is really almost entirely a house. Beckett and his brothers are going to put the kids to work. God help them all. Oh wow. Just wow, look at those flowers!”

“Wait till you see The Dining Room. Give me your coat first. We’ve got a rack for coats in the laundry. How are you feeling—it’s just me and Hope. Nobody else is here yet.”

“Good.” Laughing a little, she tossed her sunny blond hair off her shoulders. “When I threw up this morning, all I could think was, I’m having a baby. Beckett and I are having a baby. So I’m good.”

“It shows. I don’t mean the baby,” Avery said with a snicker when Clare laid hands on her belly. “Come see.”

When she dragged Clare into The Dining Room, Hope stepped back from the buffet.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful. Oh, it’s so beautiful. All the flowers, and candles. You made me a chair!” Clare blinked at the tears swirling in her eyes. “I’m watering up again. I don’t know if it’s happiness or hormones, probably a mix of both. I got teary when Beckett did the breakfast dishes this morning.”