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Before I can say anything, there’s a noise on the other side of the apartment door.
“I need to go,” I say, ending the call.
“Carrie,” I whisper as the door flies open.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I toss my head back as Declan and Abby come strolling into their apartment with the doorman in tow. He’s dragging the handles of their suitcases with him.
“Oh my God!” Posey shrieks. “You’re not supposed to be here for another three days.”
Declan’s gaze volleys between my face and Posey’s. It his wife who gets the first words out, “Rook? Posey? What are you both doing here? Where’s Carrie?”
Posey looks to me to answer, so I shift that responsibility to my best friend. “Declan? Do you want to take it from here?”
I need a second to breathe.
He glances at me. “Sure. Posey sent me a text yesterday saying that everything is great here, and we were both ready to come home, so here we are. Everything is good, right, Rook?”
If that’s his roundabout way of asking if the mural is done, it’s confusing as hell.
“It’s done,” I say bluntly. “It’s ready.”
“What’s ready?” Abby grabs hold of Declan’s hand. “I’m really lost, Decky.”
The doorman clears his throat, so I take the opportunity to step away to deal with him. I motion for him to leave the luggage where it is and go back into the corridor. He does just that, so I quietly shut the door behind us.
I pull a few bills from my wallet and press them into his palm. “When’s the last time you saw Carrie today?”
“Miss Gilbert?” His gaze searches my face.
I nod.
“I haven’t yet today, sir.” He pockets the cash in his jacket. “My shift started at four this afternoon. She didn’t pass by me once.”
“Okay.” I pat his shoulder. “Thank you.”
The apartment door springs open again. Declan’s motioning for me with his hand. “Get inside, Rook. I’m about to unveil the surprise.”
I don’t need to play a part in this. All I did was pay Posey to use her immense talent to create a painting that will hopefully charm the baby.
“Sure, right,” I say because this is a moment for Declan, and he wants me next to him.
I lead the way down the hallway with Posey at my side as Declan guides his wife behind us. Her eyes are closed in anticipation of what’s to come.
“I don’t understand where Carrie is,” she whispers to Declan as she cradles her cat in her arms. “Should we call her first and ask her to be here for this?”
“I can’t wait another second to show you,” he says in a low tone. “I know she won’t mind if I unveil the surprise now.”
Her answer is a soft hum as we round the corner to the guestroom.
The next stage of the transformation is hauling the bed out of here, setting up a crib, and everything else that a newborn requires. I’ve already offered to lend a helping hand with that, but Declan assured me he could handle it.
I step to the side and tug Posey’s elbow to encourage her to do the same.
She does, and as soon as Declan has Abby directly in front of the mural, he tells her to open her eyes.
A scream follows, and then a rush of tears from Abby. Declan’s hand jumps up to wipe a few away from his cheek, too.
