“Not exactly,” Skye says. “We couldn’t decide between dishes. And maybe…” She trails off, her eyes flitting to my brother’s, and the instantmunication that passes between them makes me feel like an imposter.


    A quick nce at Nick tells me he feels the same way. They’re wrapped up in a two-ness and domestic bliss that we’re nothing but spectators to. For my sake, it makes me envious.


    I’m sure Nick thinks it’s ridiculous.


    “Well, we didn’t just ask you both here tonight to torture you,” Cole says. “We do have something to tell you.”


    My throat closes. His words have sent my mind racing ahead, drawing conclusions, guessing. Cole’s smile widens when he sees the hint of emotion in my eyes.


    “You’ve bought another chalet?” Nick asks, and I hear his voice through some sort of fog. No, you stupid man.


    Coleughs. “Not quite. Almost, though.”


    “You’re our closest friends and family,” Skye adds, “and we feel like we have to share it with you. But no telling anyone else, okay? Not even your mother, ir. Cole will tell her this weekend.”


    I’m nodding like a crazy person. “Of course, of course, I won’t say a word.”


    “What is it?” Nick asks, a surprising trace of concern in his voice. “Is something wrong?”


    “I’m pregnant,” Skye says. “It’s early still, but… we should be parents seven months from now.”


    My gaze bes hazy with tears. I’m so happy for them, and I tell them that, going around the table to wrap my arms around them both. I don’t know who to hug first and we end up in a sort of half-embrace, Skyeughing and me crying.


    “I’m so happy for you,” I say, perhaps once, perhaps twice. Perhaps a hundred times.


    Cole finally pries me off his poor wife, now with tears of her own in her eyes, and hugs me tightly. I can’t remember thest time we’ve hugged like this. “You’re going to be a dad,” I whisper in his ear.


    “I know,” he whispers back. “Think I’ll do a good job?”


    “Oh, the best.” The thought of him as a father brings a fresh bout of tears to my eyes. “And I’ll be an aunt.”


    Through my film of tears, I catch sight of Nick. He’s standing to the side and watching the scene with an indecipherable emotion on his face. He gives Skye a quick hug. “Congrattions,” he says.


    I blink away my tears to see him more clearly. Is he moved, too?


    Cole releases me with a grin. “You know what this means, right?”


    “What?”


    “We’re going to ask you two to be godparents, when the dayes. You have seven months to prepare.”


    And then I’m hugging them again and my tears won’t stop and I promise to be the best aunt and godparent ever. Skyeughs when she hugs me and asks me toe with her to buy baby clothes. As if you could keep me away, I say.


    Nick looks… well, the only word I can use is shell-shocked. Cole pulls him in for a half-hug, their shoulders touching, and speaks. I can’t hear it-but Nick gives a sharp nod. He’s my brother’s best friend. Of course he’d be asked. Even my anger at him melts away in the face of that.


    Nick’s shocked expression stays with me for the rest of the evening, even when we’re sent off in the same car. Cole’s driver greets us from the front seat as he pulls out from the driveway.


    Nick is a quiet, dark shadow beside me.


    “Wow,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “Wow.”


    He seems to agree. “Another project we’re stuck on together.”


    There’s no malice in his voice, and Iugh, despite myself. I’m still hurt by his belief that I wanted to sabotage hispany, but that feels small and petty inparison.


    “I have a feeling I’ll enjoy this one more,” I say.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    “Somehow, I was thinking quite the opposite,” he says quietly.


    “I don’t know if I should take that as apliment or be concerned for the child.”


    Nick doesn’t respond. He looks down at the heavy watch on his wrist instead before leaning forward toward Charles. “Drop Miss Porter off first,” he instructs.


    “Yes, sir.”


    I frown at him. Is he going somewhere after? Something within me sinks when I think of how little I know of his personal life. Nothing of his rtionships-orck of them. Nothing of how he spends his time, or indeed, with whom.


    “We don’t talk about this tomorrow at work,” he tells me.


    “I wasn’t nning to.”


    “Good. And remember our agreement.”


    Civility and profit. I turn my gaze away from him and out to the Seattle lights. I have a job to do, my own business to start, and now a niece or nephew on the way. Being disliked by Nick should be at the very bottom of my concerns.


    “I won’t forget,” I vow.


    History repeats itself the very next weekend.


    I’m standing with a few friends, a ss of wine in hand. This event-a yearly autumnal fundraising event-draws a giant crowd. My brother used to be a regr guest, but he and Skye bailedst minute. When I’d asked him why, he’dughingly said they needed to decide on a color for the nursery. At nine o’clock in the evening? He’d known it was an excuse, and I’d known it, but he’d sounded so content on the phone that I’d just wished him good luck.


    My brother, a father.


    I’ve spent the better part of this week thinking through what kind of aunt I want to be. I think I’ve settled on fun-that’s key-but still with authority. Fun but kind. Someone the kid can call, during those inevitable teenage years, when they’re in trouble but too afraid to go to Cole or Skye.


    “ir?” Maddie’s voice reaches me and I force my eyes to refocus. “We lost you for a while there.”


    “Oh, I’m sorry. Just a lot on my mind.”


    “You’ve started working on something, I’ve heard.” John leans against the bar table with a sly light in his eyes. “Will you please put us out of our misery and tell us what fantastic new project you’re debuting?”


    “An art exhibition, curated by the one, the only, ir Porter?” Maddie intones. “Or perhaps a new Porter hotel, decorated by the fashionable ir.”


    The groupughs and I make myselfugh along. “Good guesses, but no. I think I’ll have to keep it to myself for a little while longer,” I say, taking a coy sip from my drink.


    “Oh, put us out of our misery!”


    “I think you should suffer a bit more,” I tease. In truth, I don’t see the point in making it public knowledge that I’m working for Nichs-ever. It’ll raise questions, and I fear the convoluted logic won’t make sense to anyone but myself, and possibly him.