“She’s the executive director of Leslie Science & Nature Center at Ann Arbor.”

Silence fell.

“What?” Felicity asked.

“That’s a seriously well-respected organization. They do amazing work. But, Felicity, how the hell did you turn out to be a hard-assed lawyer and come from a mother up to her armpits in frogs and owls and trees?”

“Well, I leaned toward Dad, the lawyer. Heather, my sister, leaned toward Mom. She’s got such a fixation on plants and herbs. Her husband is totally into essential oils. So they’re all about feeding people’s souls.”

Cooper’s eyes brightened. “Your family sounds incredible. You must be so proud.”

A glib retort lurked on the edge of her tongue, but Felicity stopped it. She really thought about her family dispassionately without the lens of her father’s snobbery.

Heather was kind and warm and welcoming to everyone. She never said a bad word about anyone, not even their father after he’d left. And her mother had such a calm, clever countenance that Felicity had for so long overlooked for jokes about round Midwestern women who kept chickens and cats and dogs. Why? Because Felicity was a complete jerk, obviously. Eternally focused on the wrong things. Her family was wonderful.

“Yes,” she told Cooper earnestly. “I am proud. I should warn you, though: my family does come with Heather’s loud and enthusiastic rug rats.” Felicity winced at the reminder.

“You don’t like her kids?”

“Try any kids. Small, evil knee-cap assassins? No, I do not. Don’t get me wrong: I’d jump in front of a train for Heather’s pint-sized shriekers. Hell, I’d give them my kidney, if they needed it. But I don’t have to like the happy little monsters.”

“Aw, they sound like a wonderful handful. That’s okay, I’m awesome with kids; they love me. Wait’ll they get a load of Auntie Cooper. How many kids does she have?”

“Oh, who can keep count? Two or three?” Felicity threw up her hands. “Maybe four?”

Cooper stared at her in astonishment.

“What?”

“Good thing you’re cute. That’s all I’m saying. Look, I’m calling bullshit on you this time. I know you think pretending you don’t care about people or their lives is a way to show how career focused you are or whatever. But this is me. And it’s your family. Stop pretending you don’t give a shit and just tell me.”

“Three,” Felicity admitted, followed by a sheepish look. “And yes, fair point. I’ve been reassessing lately a lot of things I do without thinking. I should probably add this to my list.” She exhaled. “You know, Elena told me that in the office I pretty much only say brutal or awkward things.”

Cooper laughed. “Wow. You must be fun to work with.”

Felicity gave a tiny head shake. “She’s not entirely wrong, but I swear there’s a reason. It’s not just me disliking people. When I first started out in law, my firm was a bit less evolved than companies are now regarding women. They wanted to give me all the family cases. The soft stuff. I declined. They asked often about when I’d get married and were children in my future. They definitely saw women as weaker and assumed most weren’t serious or in it for the long haul. Me being from the Midwest made the assumptions even worse.”

“That’s unfair.”

“Right? So I decided I’d make them rethink all that. Any situation where a soft, warm comment would be expected from the woman in the room, I started coming up with the edgiest, hardest thing I could think of. It became a habit to stop people thinking of me as weak. I do it automatically now—reflexively saying cold things without thinking. It’s almost a skill to be this awful, you know.” Felicity prayed her honesty was at least…charming?

Cooper’s lips twitched. “And the awkwardness?”

“That’s just me being a total write-off at social skills. I got so focused on career so young that I haven’t had much practice connecting with people for the sake of it. And it never seemed important because there was always someone else ready to jump in and schmooze in my place. I never really got the knack of it.”

“I sort of got a clue about that when you struggled to say nice things about our clients’ pets.” Cooper leaned in and added conspiratorially, “I worried you were a sociopath.” She laughed.

Felicity winced. The remark reminded her of Elena’s face when she revealed that she didn’t know whether Felicity had a heart. There had been definite fear in her eyes. It stung.

All this time she’d thought she’d been impressing her boss with her laserlike focus on business. Instead, she’d made Elena fret that she might be a cruel bully like Lecoq. Clearly Felicity had messed up without even realizing it. How hadn’t she realized this?

The longer she was with Cooper, the more she started to see how far she’d taken things. Maybe it wasn’t too late to stop being quite so brutal. She’d probably always be somewhat abrasive; that’s just who she was. But Cooper was also right: Felicity pretending she didn’t know how many nieces and nephews she had hardly announced to the world she was serious about her career. It announced she was unfeeling. No wonder Elena had been worried.

I’ve been an idiot.

Well, thank God Cooper saw through her BS and liked her anyway.

“All right, so it’s settled,” Cooper suddenly announced.

“What is?”

“We’re going to meet your family, including Heather and all three of her rug rats, at the earliest possible opportunity. Oh, and you’re going to meet my nana. She’ll love you. Of course, she’ll take one look at you and decide you need fattening up, which is seriously her favorite thing in life.” Cooper patted her rounded belly. “I can attest to that.”

“You want to meet my family?” Felicity hesitated. “You know, it’s bold to voluntarily go on a trip to Pinckney. There’s not much there.”

“Didn’t you say Pinckney was near Hell?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’re definitely going. I’ve never been to Hell and back.” Cooper’s laugh was full and booming, and her belly bobbed up and down so hard that Brittany gave a long-suffering sigh and lifted her head off it.

“Sorry, Brit, hon,” Cooper said, giving the dog an affectionate pat. “Just making some life plans with my girl here. You understand.”

Felicity smiled and couldn’t stop. That’s what they were doing, weren’t they? Family meetups? Life plans. She’d never so much as done a meet-the-parents with Phillip. These plans augured well, Felicity thought with satisfaction.

Maybe they’d last as a couple; maybe not. Maybe Cooper would take one look at Felicity’s touchy-feely, liberal-leftie family and run screaming into the night. Somehow, though, as she pictured Cooper slurping Heather’s homemade ginger beer and her mother discussing the finer points of reptiles and rockets, she didn’t think so.

“What has you grinning like that?” Cooper poked her playfully on the shoulder.

“Us.” Felicity slipped her hand over Cooper’s waist and held her tight. She actually had a life now, full and filled with promise, and it was one she was proud of. “But just a head’s up, Dr. Cooper: I’ve formulated a new plan, thought it over in great detail, and implemented it.”

“Oh?”

“I’m never letting you go.”

“I see,” Cooper replied seriously. “Good to know.” She offered a wide and dazzling smile. “Well, I’m sure as hell not foolish enough to get between Felicity Simmons and her grand plans. So that’s a big ole ‘roger that’ from me.”

Felicity could not stop the smile that flooded her face. “Well, then,” she said, laughing, “that’s that.”

EPILOGUE

The Australasian Legends of Publishing Ball was one of those essential work events that Felicity was expected to attend, even though it involved traveling half a world away to Sydney. It didn’t help her mood that it separated her from Cooper for far too long. Although in this case, too long only meant a few hours because Cooper was back at their hotel enjoying the minibar and cable movies and waiting for her return.

Cooper had taken news of Felicity’s trip to Sydney with delight, deciding it should be used as a joint vacation. She’d never been to Australia and had already informed Felicity of the list of animals she intended to visit, starting with and not confined to koalas, kangaroos, emus, platypuses… or was that platypi? She’d have to ask Cooper later.

“Are you even listening to me?” Perry Marks, Style International’s global art director, looked extra dashing tonight in his black tux and white shirt that contrasted with his dark skin and gleaming bald pate.