Coy grins.
I shake my head, refocusing. “There was a day, a month, whatever that you were sober and of sound mind, and you made a decision to start a family with Bellamy. Although I can’t fathom why she agreed.” I return his smile. “And now, here you are, about to realize your dreams for a little mini-Coy, and that’s exciting stuff if that’s your thing. It’s apparently your thing since you chose this.”
“Doesn’t mean I’ll be good at it.”
His tone lacks the conviction from earlier. It’s more conversational, more humor me. Even though I very rarely humor anyone, especially my brothers, it’s well after two in the morning, and I’m already here.
So fuck it.
“What’s the most important thing in the world?” I ask him.
“Family.”
“You said that without thinking. No hesitation.”
He shrugs. “What’s there to think about? I’d do anything for you guys. Obviously for Bellamy. For Hollis and Riss.”
“And that’s why you are going to be a great dad.”
He mulls that over, sipping his coffee. If I thought I looked tired earlier, Coy looks exhausted. But there’s a hint of something in his eyes as though he could flip a switch and bust out a marathon.
I do not have that.
“You aren’t going to do this alone,” I say, yawning. “Bellamy is entirely more intelligent than you. You have Mom. And Dad, if you’re being ballsy.”
We exchange a grin.
“You have Holt. Ollie. Boone and he even did something productive and had a child for you so yours has a cousin. And a babysitter in a few years.” I lean back in my chair. “Look at that. Boone being helpful. Wow.”
Coy smirks. “And you.”
“Me? What about me?”
“And I have you.”
I scoff, shoving my chair back. “I’m not the one, Coy. I assure you.”
We stand, straightening our table before heading toward the recycling receptacle. We toss our cups in the bin and then head toward the elevators.
Once we get to the doors, we stop.
Coy looks at me. “Wonder why I called you tonight?”
“Well, the question did cross my mind.”
“Because I knew that out of all of my brothers, you would be the one to tell me the truth.”
I chuckle. “What if I would’ve told you that you were going to suck as a dad?”
“Then I would’ve called Oliver, listened to him tell me you were an idiot, and took his side.”
My chuckle grows louder.
“Thanks for coming, Wade. When I called you, I didn’t expect this, and it means a lot. Truly.”
I take a step back. I don’t want or need his gratitude. He’s family, and short of taking deals that I truly don’t want to touch, I’d do anything for them.
Because that’s what you do.
“It’s fine. No big deal,” I say.
“It is a big deal.”
“You, uh, have a wife upstairs who’s probably looking for you, and I have a bed that’s missing me. So, if your confidence is boosted and you’re good to go, I’m going to go too.”
Coy pushes the button to go up. “My ego has been restored. Thank you.”
“I’d say it was my pleasure, but I’d rather not start my day off by lying.” I tap him on the shoulder as I head toward the exit. “If you need me … call Oliver.”
Coy’s laughter follows me through the automatic doors.
Something else follows me—a memory from long ago. It was spurred by the scent that lingers on my clothes, the same one from that night in college.
The one I try to forget.
The one I’m never fully able to forget.
I climb in my Mercedes and turn on the radio. As Ray LaMontagne begins to sing, my mind struggles to adjust. So, I make a conscious decision—just this one time—to let it fall to the one thing, the one person who I know will distract me: Dara.
In the darkness of the car, alone in the middle of the night, I let myself smile while I think of the little spitfire I’ll see in just a few hours.
TEN
DARA
“Hi, Eliza,” I say as I enter Mason Architecture. The door sweeps closed behind me.
The front office smells like leather. The walls are cream with a deep, almost tobacco-colored trim that matches the overhead beams. It’s very masculine and clean … and drab. The only liveliness comes from a fig tree in the corner and Eliza—and even she looks too scared to breathe too loud.
She looks up at me with big blue eyes. “Hi, Miss Alden.”
“Oh, please. Call me Dara.” I sit in one of the chairs near the tree. “I’m early. I know. I made it a point not to be late.”
Relief washes over Eliza’s face. It piques my curiosity.
“So, Eliza,” I say, getting comfortable. “How are you this morning?”
She types furiously on her computer while trying to watch me from the corner of her eye.
“Don’t let me bother you,” I say, feeling bad for distracting her. “I’m just chatty today.”
“It’s okay. It’s … nice, actually.” She lets her gaze linger on the computer before facing me. “I’m normally chatty too, but …”
Her voice drifts off.
“Wade isn’t a chatty kind of guy, huh?” I ask.
She grins. “I would say that’s accurate.”
“I’m trying to loosen him up. He’s resisting, as I’m sure you can imagine, but I don’t give up too easily.”
“I—”
Her response is cut short by the opening and closing of an office door. I think we both hold our breath until Wade comes into sight.
I blow out a breath mostly to hide the fuck that comes out on a heated whisper.
He stops in the doorway and takes in both me and Eliza. Both of us just stare back at him.
Fitted black pants are capped off with black shoes. A lightweight sweater stretches over his chest and shoulders, giving me another view of the body I saw in the T-shirt at the park.
Whether he’s been running his hands through his hair this morning or if he styled it to look precisely like that—I don’t know. But I love it. The contrast of the playful hair, nerdy glasses, and sophisticated attire lights me on fire.
I think it does Eliza too because a dollop of drool glistens in the corner of her mouth.
“Ladies …” He makes a face as if to say, “What are you looking at?”
I spring to my feet. “Good morning, Wade. Are you ready for our adventure?”
He’s not. The scowl laced with a wariness says that all too well.
I laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He slides his attention from me to Eliza. “I’ll be gone for an hour, maybe a little more. If anything comes up that you’re unsure about, call Shaye at Mason Limited, and she’ll help.”
“Yes, sir.”
He gives her a look I can’t read and ushers me toward the door.
The sun is bright despite the cool temperature. A breeze whips through the parking lot as we step onto the pavement.
“Do you want to take one car or two?” he asks blandly. “There are benefits to both, I suppose.”
“I get to pick. That’s fun. I expected a more here’s-what-we’re-doing thing from you.”
He holds a paper cup in his hand and scans the lot. Then he sighs.
“What?” I ask.
“The delivery truck next door has blocked me in.”