Page 54 of Push

The look in Liam’s eye was almost sly. “There’s one thing.”

Here we go.I lifted my eyebrow, waiting for him to fill in the blanks. There wasalwaysa catch.

His tone was almost amused when he explained, “I’m told by the woman who runs human resources that staff morale is important. It’s a rule here that everyone works in the office on Tuesdays to bond or some such nonsense. And once each month, there’s a compulsory morning tea.”

“Youattend the morning teas?”

“Of course. One of the girls in accounts is quite the little baker. She makes delightful lamingtons.”

I stared at Liam like he had two heads.

“They don’t surpass the squashed peanut butter sandwiches you made for our dinner.” He winked at me. “But what is life without a little whimsy?”

I was hallucinating. The shapewear squeezing me into my pencil skirt had cut off the circulation to my brain. One of the wealthiest men in the city—my brother—was talking to me about the whimsy of eating lamingtons.

He continued. “If you still enjoy cooking and have time around yourcommitments, you’re most welcome to contribute to the morning teas.”

I smirked at him. “And if I don’t bake lamingtons?”

His lips curved. He knew he’d reeled me in. “Well, in that case, you may recall that Elias is partial to polvorones.”

18

He Realized His Mistake

Toby

“Um, Toby…?”

I tore my attention away from the pot bubbling on the stove and glanced over my shoulder. Gwen stood just inside the kitchen. She’d kicked off her stilettos, but her suit jacket was clutched in her hand, dragging on the hardwood floor.

A dopey smile spread across my face. “Hey!” I gave the pot another stir. “I didn’t realize you were home!”

To be fair, I wouldn’t have heard a marching band of elephants over the racket Noah was making. Sitting in his portacot—my genius idea to contain his champion rolling skills—he squealed a happy tune as he played with the saucepans I’d fished out of the bottom drawer.

Gwen scanned the room with wide eyes. “What the—?” She winced when Noah clanged the enormous green spoon on a metal lid.

My smile was sheepish. “Sorry, doll.” Her glare sliced through my chest when the nickname slipped out.Christ. She’d just walked through the door, and I’d already screwed up. “How did your interviews go?”

Gwen shrugged. She slung her jacket over the portacot and leaned over to ruffle Noah’s fuzzy hair. Every movement looked like a struggle. The excited smile on her face when Noah showed her his big spoon—yeah, that was fake. She looked exhausted.Defeated.

I abandoned the stove, hopped to the other side of the counter, and pulled out a stool. “Sit down.” She didn’t shrug off my hand when I gently coaxed her across the kitchen. “Want me to make you a cup of tea?”

Gwen shook her head. “What is it with you and Marnie and cups of tea?” She dragged herself onto the stool and slumped over the counter, chin resting on her fist, mind ticking over.

My gut twisted. In the old days, I wouldn’t have thought twice about rushing over, wrapping my arms around her, and whispering silly things as I kissed her neck.

Gwen worried and over-analyzed every tiny detail. Her brain never switched off. It was my job to help her with that. I’d tell her everything would be okay, and she’d roll her eyes, but I’d see her smile before she nuzzled into my chest. Sex was a sure-fire method for success too, but that had been off the agenda since she’d lost her job.

I shifted uneasily on my feet. Just standing there was torture. I needed todosomething.

“Oh!” I hightailed it to the fridge. “I’ve got just what you need.” I grinned at her over my shoulder. “Wine.”

Irritation edged Gwen’s voice when she said, “I’m still breastfeeding, I can’t—”

“Don’t worry. It’s non-alcoholic prosecco.” I grabbed the bottle and a glass off the top shelf. “It’s from the supermarket, so itprobably won’t taste the best, but it’s got bubbles. Perfect for celebrating… or, um…” I shot her a tight smile. “Preparing your next plan of attack.”

I slid the frosted glass in front of Gwen and tore the foil off the bottle. Any worries of freaking out Noah if I popped the cork disappeared. The supermarket prosecco was about the furthest thing from champagne.

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