Gianna cast a warm smile at Kat and ran a hand down her pigtail. “PH take that as a compliment since she and I seem to look a lot alike. But I blame her personality on her papa one hundred percent.” A perfectly timed, “Cut off his head!” sounded from the phone, pulling laughs from us both. When the amusement faded, Gianna made an uncomfortable expression and rubbed her pregnant belly. The baby was either massive like his papa and uncle, or she was close to popping any day now. “When are you due?” I asked. “Three weeks, but I have a feeling he’s never going to come out. When I get home tomorrow, I need to start doing yoga.” She sighed as if the thought put her out. “But that’s probably not going to happen because I’ve been excommunicated from my studio, and I’ve never been good at motivating myself.” “Surely, there’s more than one yoga studio in New York City.” She frowned. “I guess I should have said I’ve been excommunicated from all the studios.” “Oh...” After a short pause, we both laughed again. Gianna radiated warmth, and I already felt lighter, but any chance of a better mood crashed and burned when a familiar sultry voice entered the equation. “I hope I am not interrupting anything.” Slowly, I slid my gaze to the doorway to see Nadia in the flesh. Her black hair was clipped to one side in a sleek wave that reached her waist. Dark red lips. Kohled eyes. She wore a nude wrap dress beneath a long mink coat. I wondered if Ronan had bought it for her. The idea wrenched my stomach, threatening to expel the single grape inside. The opera singer was gorgeous, exuding sex from every pore. She was the kind of woman all women compared themselves to. A look at her made one feel lacking on impact. Why would Ronan spare me a glance when this woman was around? I rejected the thought just as fast as my new family rejected me. Je suis parfaite comme je suis. Tu es parfaite comme tu es. Nous sommes parfaites comme nous sommes. I am perfect as I am. You are perfect as you are. We are perfect as we are.