Penny flits a hand toward the bay window, where a crew of TV trucks sits. “Access Hollywood wants to film me from my right side, and you know that’s my bad side. You take the interview, Tessie. You don’t have a bad side. And you know the house better than I do.”
She does.
She poured every ounce of herself into preserving the historic Spanish-Colonial Revival penthouse, instead of demolishing it to make room for boring garbage gray walls and white lights. The home is all kaleidoscope color, whimsy, and straight lines, keeping with her design philosophy that a space should be part reality, part fantasy, part risk.
“I’m on it,” Tessie says, trading air-kisses with Penny.
As she struts through the penthouse, blowing past her small junior design staff, she ignores the judgmental eyes on her. She knows what they’re all thinking.
She’s a bitch.
She can’t do this.
She’s spent her whole life walking a safe, rigid line, but she steps out one night, and the rest is history.
Well, the rest is his.
Tessie gathers her bag and swatches at the front door. Glancing down, she palms the high swell of her belly.
When she found out she was pregnant, she screamed. Then she cried. Then she breathed into a paper bag that smelled faintly of crab angels from her favorite Chinese restaurant and called her cousin Ash.
She and the bearded mountain man had used a condom. They were careful, but apparently, careful didn’t cut it.
Two pink lines firebombed her carefully crafted world. Could have ended it. But no. She’s Tess Truelove, and she doesn’t get knocked off balance.
She can do this.
She has to.
She and Ash discussed her options. It’s not like she was a sixteen-year-old girl staring at a pregnancy test in a CVS bathroom. She was thirty-two. A woman with a career and a decent bank account balance and a semi-steady head on her shoulders.
A family one day? She wants it. And sure, this isn’t what she expected or when she expected it, but being a single parent doesn’t bother her. Her mom did it, and so will she. Any other option is off the table. She won’t do to this baby what her father did to her—leave or abandon it.
She’ll keep it.
Never mind that she’s a control-freak and this is the exact opposite of control.
She wants it. With everything she has.
“Find stars in everything,” her mom always said.
This baby, this is her star.
A family of her own, a love that sticks around.
Besides, a baby is irrelevant to her career. She won’t let this unexpected setback sidetrack her life.
She can juggle a career and a baby. She’s good at juggling.
Or breaking.
Whichever comes first.
“Truelove,” comes a sharp snap of a nasally voice. “Details. I need details, and I need them fast.”
Tessie turns, catching sight of a short, stocky man gliding her way. Thick silver coif of hair. Cocaine in blue suede shoes. Her hyperactive micromanager of a boss, Atlas Rose. As he settles in front of her, she rips the hand away from her stomach. The last thing she needs is Atlas thinking she has a maternal instinct. Not when she plans to continue down her highly demanding career path. Sickness, babies, puppies are like the Ebola virus to Atlas. They make him bleed rectally.
She thinks back to when she was early in her pregnancy. Sick as a dog, barfing her brains out in a bathroom stall, then crawling into a meeting and plastering a smile on her face. She’s come so far, but she still has so far to go.
A slow curl of panic, squeezing her chest until she can hardly breathe, has Tessie closing her eyes for a moment. Pulling in a deep breath.
Already, she loves this beautiful little baby, but she’s so damn scared.
And then she’s back, locking a smile to her face and snapping open her eyes to focus on Atlas.
“The space is finished.” Her voice is clipped. Professional. Icy. “I’m stepping in for Penny’s interview, and then I’ll stick around to make sure the contractors clean up like they promised.” Tess tosses her long golden hair over her shoulder. “That puts everything on schedule and tidied up before my vacation.”
Waiting for it, her entire body goes stiff. If Atlas complains about her taking time off, she’ll scream bloody murder to the high heavens.
Atlas’s Botoxed brow tries to wrinkle. But without complaint, he flits a hand. “Crush this interview, Truelove. Remind Los Angeles why we, and not Nova Interiors, are the premier design firm.”
Tessie keeps a straight face at Atlas’s bloodlust and nods. Nova Interiors is their fiercest competition in the Los Angeles market. “I’ll be sure to mention it no less than five times.”
Atlas spins on his heel without another word and disappears down the hall, barking orders at frazzled interns.
With a sigh, Tessie lugs her bag onto her shoulder, grabs her heavy book of swatches, and exits through the front door, stepping out into the sunlit courtyard.
For a long second, she goes dizzy. Dark spots dance in her vision, and she teeters in her high heels like a newborn fawn, but a hand wraps around her arm, steadying her. “You really gotta stop wearing heels, preggo.”
“Don’t blame the heels, Ash,” she gasps. “Blame low blood sugar.”
“Are you even supposed to lift twenty pounds?” her cousin shoots back skeptically.
“The doctor says it’s fine.”
“It’s fine, but it’s killing you.” Ash gestures at a planter. “Sit.”
Following her cousin’s marching orders, she exhales a tired breath. She scans the courtyard. The television crew sets up on the sidewalk. The roar of LA traffic fills the air. In the distance, the tall buildings of downtown glitter in the warm September sun.
Already digging through her large tote bag, Ash perches beside her. “What do you need? Smelling salts or granola bars?” She holds both out in one hand.
Tessie frowns, looking from the items to her cousin. “Why do you have smelling salts?”
“People faint at funerals and weddings all the time.”
Grateful, Tessie takes the granola bar, her first meal of the day. During the first six weeks of her pregnancy, all she could keep down was Sour Patch Kids and olives. Curiosity piqued, she cocks her head. “Why weddings?”
“Nerves. Locked knees. Bridesmaid slept with the groom.” She shrugs. “Shit like that.”
Tessie laughs, her nerves easing at the appearance of her cousin. Her opposite in every way. Where Tessie looks like she was shot out of the sun, Ash was scraped out of the LaBrea tar pits. With her long tumble of jet-black curls and blunt bangs, Ash resembles a modern-day Cleopatra in combat boots. The chill to Tessie’s uptight. Rough versus polished. Her best bad influence and partner in crime since Tess went to live with Ash and her Aunt Bev after her mother died.
Ash crosses slim ankles, tattooed thighs peeking out of her skirt. “How’s Bear?”
Palming her belly, she smiles. “Slowly crushing my bladder but thriving.” She bites into the granola bar, the sweetness giving her a much-needed energy boost. “Who died today?”
“Some old guy who used to date Marilyn Monroe. I actually threw myself into the grave, per his request.” She waggles her brows. “It was very old Hollywood.”
Having dropped out of college after discovering she could cry on cue, Ash launched her own business as a death doula/wedding interrupter. Tessie’s still surprised how much people will pay for a stranger to cause chaos or to comfort family. But she shouldn’t be surprised; it is LA, after all.
“You about ready to roll?” Ash asks.
“Can’t. I have to walk Access Hollywood through Penny’s house.”
“Make sure to show them the statue that looks like a gigantic penis.” Ash nudges her shoulder. “Speaking of dicks, did you find the Giant Bearded One yet?”
Tessie flushes. “No. I stopped looking months ago.” She turns her attention to the sun-drenched street. “You know that.”
She tried to find him.
She did.
After discovering she was pregnant, she called the Bear’s Ear bar and asked around for the large mountain man who knocked her up. Maybe not in those exact terms, but she did look. She even put up posters.