“You’ll have to repeat that,” I drawl, tilting my glass back and forth so thevodka sloshes from side to side, not unlike the way Wren’s bathwater wentthis way and that as I…
She drops her hands and looks at me with narrowed eyes. “I don’t want tobe pregnant. Even fake pregnant!”
Sighing, I push it in her direction. “You don’t have a choice.”
She snatches it from me angrily and holds it up against her stomach. “God,this feels wrong.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Suppressing a smile, I take her glass and offer it back to her. “Drink. You’llfeel better once you’re done. Then you’ll have to chew through a pack ofgum and some mints before we get to your father’s estate. He can’t smellalcohol on your breath.”
She discards the fake belly unceremoniously. “Can you get it
