Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
For a long second, she searches my face like she’s trying to figure out if I really meant it, but I do. It doesn’t matter which one of us has biologically fathered this baby. We’d all been there that day. It belonged to us all.
“We’re sure,” I say before she can ask.
Chance lets out a soft sound of agreement behind me. Dillon murmurs, “Every step. All in.”
I lower my forehead to hers. “Are you good with that? With this whole situation? I mean, you’re probably going to have to move in. Permanently.”
Her eyes flick between us again, soft and warm. It doesn’t take much to guess that she’s a little overwhelmed.
Finally, she lets out a soft, teary laugh. “I think I basically already live here.”
“Good,” I murmur, pulling her in again. “Because we want you to. Can we make it official, then?”
Chance’s hand slides to her hip. Dillon’s fingers brush her shoulder, and she sinks into the middle of us like she finally feels like she belongs. Like this is home.
I clear my throat, suddenly remembering the small stash I’d hidden behind the armchair earlier.
“Uh, speaking of moving in,” I say, loosening my hold on her just enough to reach back and grab the first bag, “I, uh, I bought you a few things.”
Her head snaps up. “Again?”
“It’s not—” I start, but she’s already laughing and I grin, handing over the bag. “Fine, it is a gift, but I like spoiling you.”
Chance sighs, shaking his head at me. “I thought we talked about her choosing her own things in the future.”
“That’s why it’s called a gift, asshole. You’re not supposed to choose it for yourself.”
“Well, in that case, I fully support the spoiling lifestyle.” He strides to the counter and grabs a small gift bag, handing it to her with a mock bow. “For the record, I bought these in town the other day. On purpose. Because they reminded me of you. I browsed. I didn’t just stare at a screen.”
She peeks inside, her eyes widening before she glances back up at him. “Candles?”
“Scented,” he says proudly. “The fancy kind. The lady at the shop said they were meditative. I figured maybe you could use some meditative energy while living with us.”
She laughs again, the sound pure and bright, relaxed instead of the tense, forced laughter we’ve been hearing for the last few days. “Thank you.”
Dillon finally steps forward too, his hands tucked in his pockets like he’s trying to pretend he isn’t proud of himself. “Since they’re all exposing themselves, I should probably admit I ordered these last week. They were supposed to get here tomorrow, but the package showed up early.”
He lifts a sleek, wrapped box from a luxury womenswear brand off the floor behind the couch and hands it over, his cheeks faintly pink. I groan. “Well, now you’ve gone and made it a competition.”
“That means I win.” He smirks at me, but both of us glance back at Roxie when she gasps after opening the box.
“Dillon.” She gleams as she pulls out the soft cotton loungewear, the expensive kind most women rarely buy for themselves, and Roxie probably never would.
He shrugs, his ears even pinker now. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable in it this winter.”
“We told Boone not to spoil you, but this one?” Chance jerks a thumb at Dillon. “This one told me not to buy anything and now look at him.”
Dillon glares halfheartedly. “That was before you bought candles that cost more than my internet bill.”
“They’re artisanal,” Chance shoots back.
I lift my own bag. “Are you guys done? Because mine is actually practical.”
Roxie giggles into her hands. “Oh, my God. What is happening right now?”
“We’re taking care of you,” I say simply. “No offense, sweetheart, but you packed sort of light, and now that you’re going to be staying here, you’re going to need a lot more stuff. This is only the beginning. This is what we bought when we didn’t know how long you’d be here, but now that it’s forever…”
Her expression softens, something warm and glowing settling into her features. She leans into the middle of us, letting Chance kiss her temple, Dillon touch her back, and me tip her chin up.
“If this is just a normal Wednesday,” she murmurs, glancing between us one by one. “What the heck is Christmas like in this house?”
I grin. Chance laughs. Dillon shakes his head, but I already know the truth. Christmas is going to be magical this year.
Because she’ll be here, and next year, so will the baby. All of which suddenly makes even ordinary fucking Wednesdays feel pretty damn extraordinary.
24
CHANCE
Over the next few weeks, everything settles into a weirdly beautiful rhythm. Life with three men and one pregnant woman under one roof is chaotic in ways none of us anticipates, but it becomes strangely familiar and warm.