Kat frowned at the misshaped hunk of wood in front of her. This was not her best work. Far from it. Honestly, it was crap. All she’d managed to produce was crap since the day she’d taken that pregnancy test and got a positive result. The creative zone had eluded her ever since then. She understood now why her parents had each been so protective of their work time and space. It was a fragile ecosystem, susceptible to imbalance when a sticky-fingered child was introduced to the situation.

      That didn’t bode well for her future work, but she refused to worry about it now. She would figure it out. And not the way her parents had. Locked office doors and nannies were effective, but not particularly warm and loving for a child who wanted nothing more than her family’s love.

      “So…” A familiar voice sounded from the entryway of her studio. “How’d last night go?”

      Setting down her chisel, Kat turned to find one of her fellow artists and friends standing there in old overalls, fireproof gloves and a welding helmet. Hilda Levy rented the studio across from Kat, and despite the constant sounds of metal banging and sparks flying, she couldn’t ask for a better friend to work nearby. That said, she also kept a fire extinguisher on hand in case her wood shavings and Hilda’s blazing hot sparks collided.

      “It went terribly,” Kat confessed.

      Hilda pushed her helmet up, exposing the laugh lines and quirky black cat-eye glasses she was known for. “Well, shit. What happened?”

      Kat plopped down onto an old futon she kept in the corner of her studio, and Hilda followed suit. “Well, for one thing, I had the wrong guy.”

      Few things seemed to faze Hilda, but this caused her brow to knit in confusion. “What’s that, now?”

      “I didn’t have sex with Sawyer Steele.”

      The older woman looked over the top of her glasses at Kat. “Then who the hell was it?”

      “His twin brother, Finn. He just let me think he was Sawyer, for kicks or something.”

      “The plot thickens,” Hilda said, as she leaned in with interest. “So did you talk to Finn?”

      “Uh, no. After crashing the wedding and slapping Sawyer, I hightailed it out of there, after I found out the truth. I was so embarrassed by the whole thing, I wouldn’t stay a moment longer. But I did find out that Finn is half a world away at the moment. So that complicates matters.”

      “Does it? I know I’m old, but I have heard tell of this fancy internet thing that lets people communicate around the world.”

      Kat rolled her eyes at her friend’s deadpan commentary. “You’re not old. And I’ll talk to him. Eventually. Right now I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. I mean, I slept with the wrong guy. The whole reason I went to that stupid award ceremony was to talk to Sawyer. To try and convince him that his plans for the District would be detrimental to the whole art community.”

      “Not sleep with him,” Hilda added.

      “No, not sleep with him,” Kat agreed. “That was…accidental. I went down in person to put him on the spot, because he wasn’t returning any of my calls and I couldn’t get past his stupid secretary. And it got us nowhere in the end, because not only did we never discuss his plans for the District that night, the man I met wasn’t even the one who bought it.”

      “You didn’t bring it up that night?”

      Kat thought back to the dark aquarium, the blue tank lights and the dimpled smile that had lulled her into doing something stupid. “I tried. But whenever I did, he’d change the subject. Probably so I wouldn’t figure out he wasn’t Sawyer and had no idea what I was talking about.” She groaned and dropped her face into her hand. “I’m such an idiot.”

      “You’re not an idiot. You were swept away by a charming billionaire after drinking too much champagne. That’s no crime. Personally, I’d love to make a mistake like that. It’s been a long time.”

      Kat couldn’t help smiling at her friend. Hilda always had an outlook on life that could pull her out of the dumps when she was wallowing there. She honestly wasn’t sure how she would’ve gotten on after her parents died without Hilda. Without everyone here at the District, actually. Hilda was like her surrogate mother now. Except she gave advice like a girlfriend, not a mom. Since Hilda had never married or had kids of her own, maternal advice wasn’t her strong suit. Or so she said.

      “We need to get you some,” Kat said. She was a little relieved to shift the topic off herself, even for a short time.

      “Oh, Lordy,” Hilda exclaimed. “That shop has been closed down for so long it would take more than a good dusting to get it up and operational again.”

      “I’m pretty sure it all still works. There’s someone out there for you. And when you meet him, you won’t be able to dust off that equipment fast enough.”

      “I’m not so sure,” Hilda replied. This time when she spoke the smile in her eyes dimmed slightly. She was lonely. Kat knew it. Her smile and attitude tried to hide the fact, but Kat knew better.

      “I’ve seen Zeke watching you work with more than a little appreciation in his gaze.”

      Hilda rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Zeke? You’ve got to be kidding me. He just likes my work.”

      “Are you sure?” Kat wagged her eyebrows suggestively. The older man was a sculptor with a studio on the other side of their floor. With Kat and Hilda at the back of the building, opposite the stairs and the restrooms, there was no reason for Zeke to be over on their side. But for some reason, he always seemed to be hanging around Hilda’s studio. It couldn’t be just because of her metalwork.

      “No,” she argued. “But even if there was more to it, I’m not interested.”

      “Why?” Kat challenged. Hilda had spent more than a few working hours over by Zeke’s studio herself.

      “Because he’s a widower. His wife has been gone for a year now. Men his age don’t date for love. They date because they can’t function without a woman to cook and clean for them. I’ve avoided being someone’s maid for fifty-eight years and I have no interest in starting now.”

      “You don’t know what he wants until you ask.”

      Hilda sputtered for a moment before turning to Kat with a disgruntled expression on her face. “Why are we talking about my love life? You’re the one in the midst of a crisis.”

      “Thanks for the reminder.” Kat pushed herself up from the couch and walked over to the table, where she’d left a bottle of water earlier. She took a sip and shook her head. “His brother said he’d get in touch with Finn, and hopefully, I’ll hear something soon.”

      “And when you do hear from him, what exactly are you going to say? Have you decided what you want to do about the whole situation yet?”

      Kat frowned. “Yes and no. My baby is my baby, end of story there. But as far as Finn and his role in our lives… I don’t know. I just… My whole life I’ve had this vision of my future and my family. It includes marriage. It always has.”

      “From what you’ve said so far, this Finn guy doesn’t really sound like marriage material.”

      “He’s not. Absolutely not. But the more I think about it, the more I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t change how I want things to be. I refuse to have my child born a bastard like I was. Regardless of the circumstances.”

      “Your parents were together for twenty-five years,” Hilda argued.

      “And never married,” Kat added. For whatever reason, they’d never felt it was important to do so. She got the feeling they’d actually avoided it deliberately because of the stickiness of comingling their artistic property and intellectual rights. It was such a silly