“Palmer does want kids, though, right?” Chiara asked gently.
Her billionaire client, who Malia once hated, stole her heart, but they’d had a tough journey since marriage and parenthood hadn’t been in his plans, and motherhood was always the ultimate goal for her. Eventually, love did end up conquering all, and Palmer was now fully committed to being a husband and father.
“Yes. We know the road to pregnancy may be difficult with my ovarian cysts, but we’re trying not to worry about it. The main thing is I found the man I love and want to build a life with. Whatever that life looks like.”
Tessa enjoyed the giddy look on Malia’s face and her heart squeezed. With her elegantly braided dark hair and red power suit, Malia was the perfect person to head the new Quench Foundation, a not-for-profit that matched wealthy donors with local charities to offer unique funding opportunities. She’d been wildly successful in the past year and already doubled their initial number of matches. Now, she finally had it all—a successful career and a man who adored her. Emotion choked her throat. “I’m so happy for you, Malia.”
Tessa glanced over at Chiara, the current editor in chief of Quench. With her fiery red hair, hot-pink blouse, and sleek black pants, she was a powerhouse who’d once lived for her career but was now a wife and new mom. She’d also gone through a difficult journey, unexpectedly getting pregnant and falling for their late friend’s widower. The loss of Rory in a car accident had shattered their group for a long time. Rory had been the one to spearhead Quench and her dream of working side by side with all her best friends. Now, it was a successful multimillion-dollar business, and Rory was forever gone. The wound of her loss still ached for all of them, but they were proud of what they’d accomplished and had stayed true to her vision. It seemed like in the last two years fate had made some cruel choices but also stepped in to create opportunities that had changed Chiara and Malia forever.
But not her. Tessa knew she was a different breed. She was a serial dater with no desire to compromise to build a life with a man. Though lately, she’d felt complacent and unsatisfied. She needed a challenge to shake things up, or a new hot guy to give her butterflies in her tummy. Something new and exciting and . . . different.
Maybe fate would decide it was her turn. After all, wasn’t the cliché “Save the best for last”?
“What are you smiling about?” Chiara asked.
Tessa shook her head. “Nothing. Just thinking of how you two came to meet your soul mates. Speaking of which, how’s Veronica?” They’d named their baby after Sebastian Ryder’s wife, a way to honor Rory’s legacy and importance in both their lives.
Chiara beamed. “Wonderful! I can’t thank you enough for letting us use your house for her first birthday party. Everyone’s still talking about how much fun it was.”
“I loved planning it.”
“My sister wants the name of the hostess you used,” Malia said. “She was so good with the kids, I think it was the first time no one cried at a birthday party.”
Tessa laughed. “I’ll send over the website link. She’s very popular with the toddler crowd. Knows exactly how to keep their attention while moving from activity to activity. I saw Palmer fascinated with the magic tricks she did. Maybe you should hire her for your wedding.”
Malia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help grinning.
“We got so many toys we decided to donate most to the children’s hospital. I think Veronica’s party rivaled a Kardashian’s,” Chiara said.
“Nothing is too good for my goddaughter.”
“She’s mine, too,” Malia reminded her. “We’re co-godmothers, remember?”
Tessa snorted. “Sure. But I’m cooler.”
Malia threw a balled-up napkin, which bounced off her friend’s shoulder.
“Now, girls, I don’t want any food fights in my place,” a booming voice echoed out. They looked up and Tessa grinned as Mike laid their plates down with his usual economical motions. The owner of Mike’s Place and Rory’s father, he was an important part of all their lives as their mentor, friend, and second dad. They made sure to dine regularly at the restaurant they’d all grown up in and to carve out time for the occasional Sunday night Scrabble game.
The restaurant was a cornerstone of Main Street, a cross between a fancy café and a diner, with roomy red booths, an old-fashioned countertop that served ice cream sodas and sundaes, and the familiar black-and-white checkered floor. An antique jukebox belted out classics, and the scents of grease, meat, and coffee drifted in the air, swarming with comfort. Besides daily specials, craft beer and wine were offered, and Mike always seemed to know when they needed to indulge.
“We’ll be good,” Tessa said, hungrily digging into her chicken Caesar salad and side of sweet potato fries. “How have you been?”
“Busy. Holidays bring in a lot more business.”
She shared a concerned look with her friends. “I mean your personal life. Have you done anything interesting lately?” Mike had been a longtime widower after losing his wife to cancer, and after Rory died, he’d retreated to his house and the diner, rarely venturing anywhere else.
Mike shrugged, but his cheeks grew red. “Not really.”
“Have you seen Emma?” Emma was a retired high school English teacher who they’d all taken under their wing and become close friends with after seeing her regularly dine alone at Mike’s Place. She’d had a crush on Mike for a long time, but her being socially awkward and shy had ended up in a miscommunication, and Mike had been cold and distant to her. It had been heartbreaking to watch.
Tessa had helped tweak her appearance—no more baggy, dull clothes, elaborate hats and clunky glasses that hid her face, or garish orange lipstick—and with some pep talks, the woman’s confidence had shot up. Now, Emma had flourished and seemed to be enjoying her life. She’d finally given up on Mike, announcing she was moving on and would no longer chase after him.
Which is when Mike realized he really liked her and admitted he’d acted like a total asshole. He’d been trying to make it up to her with apologies, but after being alone for so long, he was just as socially awkward at dating as Emma. They were in a holding pattern, where Emma now remained cool and polite while Mike tried to scramble up the courage to ask her on a proper date.
Mike’s face turned redder. “Sure. She comes in for pancakes. Sometimes with that guy. Her friend. Art.” He spit out the name like a curse.
Chiara cleared her throat. “Have you tried to ask her out yet, Mike?”
He shifted his weight and fussed with his apron tie. “No. I will, though. I’m waiting for the right time.”
Tessa let out a sigh. “There won’t be a perfect time. Just ask her out to coffee.”
“And then what? Make her some here?”
Malia seemed to swallow a laugh before speaking. “No! There’s an adorable tea shop in Piermont. They do little cakes and tea and it’s sweet. Kind of romantic. She’d love that.”
He scratched his head and began to back up. “Yeah, I will. Sounds good. Better get to work!”
Mike disappeared into the kitchen, where he was most comfortable, leaving them all frustrated. “It’s been four months,” Tessa muttered, stabbing her grilled chicken. “He gave her those apology flowers and now she’s coming back to the diner, but he can’t seem to close the deal. I need to help.”