Shopping for a CEO's Baby (Shopping for a Billionaire Series Book 16), стр. 48
“For you to accept a new job.”
Silence. As the seconds tick on, I grow more nervous. Why isn't Carol saying anything?
“A new job?”
“Right.”
“Like, I'm fired?”
“WHAT? No! Of course not!”
“Whew.” A shaky series of sounds, like she's almost crying, come through. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I want to promote you, Carol. I need you more than ever.”
“PROMOTE? Like, a raise? More power?”
“Not sure about power, but yes. A raise. A promotion. Interim director of market research.”
“Director! But you're director!”
“I won't be for a while.”
“Are you doing this because of the babies?”
“Of course. That, and now you have to manage Agnes and Corrine.” I smile.
A low, feral sound pours through the speakers. “Ah, God, I forgot you hired them. Hmmm. I don't know...”
She knows, and I know, that she needs the money.
I quote her new salary.
“You're serious? What about Josh?”
“First of all, he has different skills, and his IT work doesn't cover what we do. Second of all, it's cruel to foist Agnes and Corinne on him.”
“And it isn't cruel to shove them on me?”
I ignore that.
“Plus, I need someone who can manage people and details, and you're good at that.”
“Plus, you're desperate.”
“That, too.”
“How are you feeling, though? Really? Early labor is scary.”
“Did you go through it?”
“No. But I can only imagine.”
“Well,” I say, going into logic mode, because processing how I feel right now is too hard, “the babies are thirty weeks, so they're viable. If I had delivered yesterday, they would have gone to the NICU but chances of a problem are small. The big issue is lung development.”
“Right. Which means they need to wait a little longer.”
“Yes.”
“What can I do for you, Amanda?”
“Take the job.”
She sighs. “Not as an employee. I know what you want me to do at Anterdec. What can I do for you as your friend?”
Now the tears rise up.
“I don't... I don't...” Words dissolve into salt water as emotions render me mute. I'm the fixer. I fix other people's problems. I'm not used to having other people offer to fix mine.
“Look. I'm at work, but there are papers for you to sign. How about I hit your favorite micro-creamery and get the Cheeto Special, the one they make just for you? I'll charge it to our department, come to your house, and we'll drown our sorrows in ice cream while figuring out a transition plan.”
“Transition means something really different to me now. And you're just trying to get free ice cream and halfway closer to your house so you can blow off the afternoon at work and miss the traffic.”
“Yes.”
“You're not even denying it!”
“Nope.”
“Because you know the words Cheeto Special made this a done deal.”
“Yep.”
“Then get over here! Now!”
She hangs up before I can say another word.
If there's one thing about Carol you have to know, it's this:
She's a doer.
I'm a fixer.
And right now, she's my savior.
Ding dong!
The doorbell jolts me out of the doze I'm in on the sofa, enough to make me startle.
“ICE CREAM DELIVERY!” Carol shouts from the other side of the door.
“I know their code, Carol. You don't have to yell,” Shannon snaps at her.
“You know the code? What is it?”
“I'm not telling you! That's private.”
Bickering sounds follow, then the click of the front door opening.
Shannon appears ahead of Carol, the two clearly related, though different. Shannon is a blend of her mom and dad, with Marie's hair color and bright brown eyes like Jason's.
Carol, on the other hand, is smaller and looks exactly like a younger version of Marie.
“Shannon?” I gasp as they walk in carrying plastic bags filled with bakery boxes, another bag weighted down by what looks like two–no, three–pints of ice cream.
Ahhhhhhhhh.
They brought one serving each.
“Maple fritters?” Shannon pulls giant bear-claw pastries out of the box, the telltale beige maple coating making me drool.
Except–is that orange on them?
“I got Paula at the bakery to roll their maple fritters in crushed Cheetos. I think she gagged a little doing it, but I threw a $10 bill in the tip jar after and she told me to call ahead for custom orders any time.”
Carol shudders. “How can you eat that?”
“Like this.” I take a bite, baring my teeth. “Mmmmm.”
“Your babies will be born orange.”
“That's better than being born too early.”
Shannon sighs, giving me a shaky smile, eyes worried. “How are they?”
“Lefty is learning the tap dance routine to Long Way Round, while Righty has decided to nap for long stretches and scare the hell out of me. He only moves when I eat a lot of sugar.” I lift my maple fritter in the air like a wine glass. “Cheers! This'll get him moving.”
Carol stares at my belly. “Two. Wow. One is hard enough.”
“It's not like I know any different.”
“Right. It'll make future kids easier.”
I stop chewing.
“Mmmmpfh?”
“You know. When you guys have your third kid, a singleton will be a breeze.”
The mouthful of fritter turns to glue. It's impossible to swallow. As if she knows, Shannon hands me my water bottle. I clear out my mouth and say, “Third?”
Carol and Shannon burst into laughter.
“We all think we want four kids, don't we? Then we go through pregnancy and childbirth. The sleepless newborn phase.”
“Teething,” Shannon chimes in, patting her breasts. “Ellie gave me a free nipple piercing.”
Here we go. The battle-weary parenting stories. I'm stuck, aren't I? Can't escape.
Carol nudges her sister and then peels the top off her hand-packed pint of ice cream. I smell peppermint. “You're the ones trying for another.”
Shannon pokes my belly with her unused spoon. “Dec wants to know how to conceive triplets so we can beat Andrew and get our four out of the way in two pregnancies.”
“Declan is insane.”
“I know, right? Why would I want to give up all that sex?”
“All that sex?”
“If we get three kids with one pregnancy, we miss the conception sex. The second trimester sex. The–”
I grab a chocolate-coated horn from the bakery box and shove it in her mouth. “We are not talking about sex. I am