“Cyndi’s the one who suggested it!” he said.
“Consider it the pregnancy talking. Hey, enjoy baby Jack. And definitely keep sending me pics. I want a mailbox full of images of the world’s cutest boy to pour over.”
“I heard that!” Max said happily. The joy in his voice was unmatched. I wished I could have been there and could hug him and tell him how happy I was for him. Being a couple thousand miles away right then sucked rotten eggs.
“Give Cyndi my love and tell her great job! That boy is a moose! Over ten pounds. Jeez, Louise!”
“Hey, runs in the family. Dad said I was close to ten pounds, too. You and your fella better watch out.” He laughed into the phone.
I wanted to reach through the line and pinch him! “You’re evil. I take back everything I ever said,” I huffed.
“Spoil sport! Glad you like the surprise. I love you, Sis.”
And the waterworks were back. Jesus, I felt like my life had become a series of Hallmark greeting cards. Every new card I picked up was a water fight. “I love you too, Maximus. Take care.”
“Will do. Go back to bed. What are you doing on the phone so early anyway?”
Before I could come up with a wicked retort he hung up. Damn, first Gin won the phone battle and now Max. I was off my game.
I sighed just as two arms spun me around, and I nuzzled into Wes’s chest. “Hey.” I snuggled into his warmth like a baby kitten and found the comfy spot. He stroked my hair and hummed.
“Your family okay?”
I nodded into his chest. “Yep. Cyndi is good, baby has an epically cool name, and I’m an auntie twice over.”
“How’s that feel?” Wes murmured, but it sounded really far away. The exhaustion had taken its toll. Even though the news was good and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, I was nodding off.
“It feels…it feels perfect.”
Chapter Nine
An assistant led me through the door of the office of the show’s executive producer at Century Productions. Leona Markham looked young for her age, but I kept that thought to myself. In order to have the position she held, she was probably well into her forties but didn’t look a day over thirty. Her hair was a thick mane of brown curls down to her shoulders that complimented her butterscotch eyes. She rocked a pristine white suit with devastatingly sharp black patent leather stilettos. Her skirt was so tight it molded to her toned frame like a second skin. From her solid calves to her sleek jawline, this woman had spent some time putting herself together, and it worked for her. Boy, did it work for her. She was smokin’ hot. I could only hope to look that good at her age.
As I sat down, she cast a gaze over my simple A-line skirt, silk tank, and wedge sandals. I wasn’t due to tape today, so I’d left the fancy duds at home. Actually, Wes and I had just finished the third editing session for the newest segment for Living Beautiful. It was about a firehouse in East LA that took in rescue puppies and trained them to serve as working animals for the physically and mentally handicapped and wounded warriors. The firemen took turns training the dogs to pick up things, open doors, get help, watch out for safety obstacles, and most importantly, provide love. They’d shown me in a scant couple days how much the dogs they’d trained affected the lives of the people they gifted the dogs to. It was a win-win for everyone.
“Ms. Saunders—” she started, but I stopped her.
“Mia’s fine.” I smiled, took a seat, and clasped my hands together on my lap.
“Thank you, Mia. Leona is fine as well.”
I nodded and waited to find out why I was here. Before she could say anything, the door burst open and Dr. Hoffman and his starry-eyed assistant, Shandi, entered.
“Sorry I’m late. Shandi and I were just looking over the initial notes on the fireman/rescue dog piece Mia just edited with her fiancé, Mr. Channing.”
The bravado with which he said Wes’s name made me roll my eyes. Of course, Leona was watching my reaction, not the good doctor’s. Her lips curved into a smirk, and I chuckled under my breath.
“Mia, darling, the piece”—he lifted his fingers to his mouth and kissed them the way an Italian mother straight from Sicily would—“ is magnificent. Brilliant. I knew, I just knew, you’d be a great addition to the show. Was I wrong, Leona?”
Leona sat down behind her monstrous desk, placed her elbows on the top of her calendar, and held her hands under her chin. “No. You were not. As a matter of fact, that’s what you’re here today to talk about, Mia.” Before she spoke, she pressed a couple buttons on her phone. “Ms. Milan, are you there?”
My aunt’s voice rang through crisp and clear on the speaker phone. “I am. Thank you for having me. Now, to what do I owe this pleasure?”