P.S. You're Intolerable (The Harder They Fall, #3)(15)

“Are you kidding me? You look adorable,” Elise cooed. “Please, come sit with us.”

Catherine held up a shopping bag. “I’m just on my way home and have my hands full, so I’d better go. Thank you, though.”

Catherine continued on her way, though she wasn’t moving fast, which made sense given the size of her belly. It had gone from a subtle swell to having its own gravitational pull. Sometimes, I debated asking her if there were twins in there, but I wasn’t stupid enough to let that question leave my mouth. I’d already stuck my foot in it enough times.

Unexpected disappointment gnawed at me as she made her way down the sidewalk. The way she’d called herself a slob while avoiding eye contact with me stuck in my mind.

I stood, throwing my napkin on the table. “Excuse me. I have to speak to her. I’ll be right back.”

By the time I caught up with her, Catherine was at the corner. She watched me approach with wary eyes, her bag clutched in front of her like a shield.

“Come back. Elise will skin me alive if I let you leave.” I stopped in front of her, peering down at her. I always forgot how short she was since she didn’t seem short. Then again, this was the first time I had seen her outside a work environment. She was normally pressed and pristine, with neat hair and simple, classic clothing. Today, her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy, unruly bun, and she was cozy in a hoodie and leggings.

“Please tell her I already ate.” She tugged at her hoodie, which was oversized everywhere except where it stretched over her belly. “I really feel way too schlubby to go to a restaurant, and all of you—”

“You look nice. No one’s going to judge you for wearing a hoodie when you’re thirty-seven weeks—”

“Wait, you know how many weeks I am?” Her brow knitted in confusion.

“Of course. You told me five weeks ago. Five plus thirty-two equals thirty-seven. It isn’t difficult.”

“Oh.”

She blinked, and it was then I really noticed how tired she looked. Maybe she wore makeup to work to disguise the dark circles beneath her eyes and she wasn’t now, or maybe she’d had a bad night. Either way, she looked like she needed rest. And soon.

“Please, come,” I urged, uneasy with keeping her standing here longer than necessary.

She shook her head. “No, I honestly wouldn’t be comfortable.”

I cocked my head. “Is this my fault? Because I made one comment about your clothes?”

I’d known right away I had hurt her feelings, but it hadn’t been intentional. She’d appeared uncomfortable in her dress that had barely fit over her bump. Seeing her yank and tug at her dress had been like nails on a chalkboard to me. I’d wanted her to remedy it so I didn’t become consumed with her comfort when I had ten thousand other things I had to deal with.

“It’s nothing like that.” She blinked again, slower this time. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you Monday. Have a nice brunch with your friends, Elliot.”

“Wait. One more thing, then I’ll let you go.”

She lowered her chin into the fabric of her sweatshirt, waiting for me to proceed.

“Girl or boy?” I nodded toward her middle.

She brought her hand up to the top of her belly, slowly smoothing it along the curve. “She’s a girl.”

“All right. Elise wanted to know—”

“Goodbye, Elliot.”

When she walked away this time, I didn’t stop her. But I waited there on the street corner, watching her until she disappeared into a nearby parking lot.

Our food was on the table when I got back to the restaurant. I was hoping I could dig in without any further discussion, but Miles had to have the last word.

“So, I have to ask the question I know everyone is dying to know,” Miles stated.

I kept my focus on my omelet. “Do you really have to?”

“I do.”

I raised my eyes to meet his. “Then tell me, Miles, what is everyone dying to know?”

His mouth slid into a lazy smirk. “Tell us the truth, Elliot. Is the baby yours or what?”

Groaning, my head fell forward. Miles had better hope we didn’t run into a mountain lion on this hike. I’d offer him up for lunch without even thinking twice.





Chapter Seven





Catherine





P.S. I’d rather give birth a hundred times than be in your presence.

It was mean and most definitely overkill, but my grumpiness had reached nuclear levels. Insomnia was an absolute bitch. I’d know since I’d been dealing with it since childhood. If I got two or three hours of consecutive sleep, it was a good night.

I leaned back in my chair and smoothed my hands over my bump. It had grown to epic proportions, and I still had two more weeks to go. There was no way I’d ever look the same after this, but that wasn’t anything I needed to worry about now. My cup was already overflowing with worries.

My eyelids were growing heavy when Elliot’s lean, imposing figure came into view, cutting down the long corridor like an apex predator. It wasn’t until he was almost at my desk that I noticed he was holding a drink carrier and headed for me, not his office.

“Good morning, Catherine.”