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“Well, then, I’d love your help.”
“Good.” She grinned. “We can use your little guy as a model. We won’t show his face, of course—you don’t want his likeness out there where anyone can see him—but we can show him from the chin down.”
“Sounds good.” I threaded a needle. “How about some music?”
Twilight pulled up some chill electronica on Talon’s system, then perched on the leather chair, arms wrapped around her legs, watching as I sewed the shark applique to the shirt.
“I never figured I’d have a baby,” she said.
My gaze snapped to her. “Are you—?”
“No.” A self-conscious smile tilted the corners of her mouth. “But we might start trying.”
“They could play together,” I said before stopping to think, then bit my lower lip. I pulled out a pin, sticking it into the apple-shaped pin cushion I’d picked up in New York. “I mean, if that’s okay with you and Brien.”
“Of course, it is. Even if I didn’t like you—which I do—Brien and Talon are best friends. Your baby is going to be so spoiled.”
“You think?”
“Yes.” Leaning forward, she gave my wrist a quick squeeze. “Give them time. Brien’s already coming around, and Cain will, too. Those three are like brothers, you know? Your little guy is going to have two powerful uncles, not to mention a great father.”
I smiled. “He will, won’t he?”
I’d been feeling better ever since Talon promised that our son could choose his own path, but it was good to hear Twilight’s perspective. And I already knew Talon would make a good father, even if he didn’t think so. He was calm, controlled, protective, the type of father who’d set clear boundaries, but also explain the “why” behind his rules. Our baby was going to adore him.
I slid Twilight a look. “So why did you think you’d never have a baby? Don’t slayers have kids?”
“Some do. Most of us don’t live that long.”
“Oh.” I tried not to show my shock; she said it so easily, like dying young was no big deal. “Your halmoni did, though.”
“True, but she’s a badass.”
I chuckled. “That’s what Rio says.”
Twilight grinned. “She likes him, too.” She fell silent, watching me sew. After a while she said, “My mom was a slayer, too.”
“Was?”
“She died when I was still a teenager. An op went sideways and…” She gave a sad shrug.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my heart hurting for her. “That must’ve been hard.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“So? If it was my mom, I’d still miss her.”
“I do miss her, but it was my halmoni who raised me. Mom wasn’t around much even before she died. She was a legend in SI. They still talk about her in training camp. Same with my halmoni.” She played with the end of her long brown braid. “Kinda hard to live up to, you know?”
“I bet you lived up to them both okay.”
“You think?” A pleased smile flashed over her face. “I tried, anyway. My last real job—not the thing with Brien, but before—was basically a suicide mission. When that went south, I got out—or tried to, anyway. So, yeah, I figured I was the last of my line. I guess I still am. It’s not like my spawn will grow up to become a slayer.”
“Does that bother you?” I tied the thread and snipped off the ends, then removed the rest of the pins, sticking them in the pincushion.
“Kind of, but SI has changed. I’m not sorry to be out of it. Plus, I could never have mated with Brien if I hadn’t left.”
“You’re lucky,” I said. “I’ve seen how Brien looks at you, like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”
