She managed to surprise me. Not only did she take my family in her stride, she’d walked right up to me and kissed my cheek, wishing me a happy birthday. Grammy must be losing her touch. Or Cathryn had blabbed.
No one knew what we did, though. That was ours—for a little while longer. She was guileless and charmed young and old alike. It was hard to believe she was a city girl.
“She’s perfect for you,” Mom said, handing me a plate.
“She is,” I agreed, taking my slice of cake from her. “I can’t believe you still throw me a birthday party.”
“You’ll understand when you have your own. And like you requested, it’s only family this year.”
The cookout had been a success. No one questioned Juliette’s refusal to drink—not when she sweetly blamed it on having to drive. Even Grammy reined herself in.
The sun had dipped low, casting golden light over the yard as the party began to wind down. Laughter softened, chairs scraped across the deck, and someone started packing away the food. I didn’t wait for an excuse. I caught Juliette’s hand and tugged her toward the front of the house.
She followed easily, her fingers tightening around mine as we approached her yellow rust bucket.
“Your birthday present is in my apartment,” she said softly, just as we reached the car.
I turned to her, brushing my fingers through a loose strand of hair that had slipped free.
“Is that an invitation?” I asked, letting the pad of my thumb skim her jaw.
She hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder.
The entire Mercer clan stood watching us. Even little Grace had joined in, perched on her granddad’s arm, eyes wide and curious.
I sighed and stepped back, opening the car door like a gentleman.
“Let’s get out of here before Grammy starts planning the wedding,” I muttered, trying—and failing—to wedge my long legs into her toy-sized car. “Damn. This thing’s not road legal, is it?”
She laughed, soft and breathy, and for a moment the glow on her face was worth every awkward bend in my spine.
?? ?? ??
It was strange, walking up the stairs and entering through her front door like a normal man—like someone she’d invited in.
I wondered if she had any idea I’d already been through everything in her apartment.
Probably not.
One of her kinky little books was still in the bottom drawer of my desk at the station.
I was just thinking about some of the filth she read when she suddenly thrust something into my hands.
Before I could thank her, she turned on her heel.
“I’ll put some coffee on,” she said, wringing her hands as she moved toward the kitchen.
“Sure thing,” I murmured, glancing down. “Thank you for my gift.”
“It’s nothing. Just a homemade project,” she mumbled as she poured water into the coffee machine.
I pulled the silver ribbon loose and peeled back the navy-blue wrapping. Inside was a small box frame.
She’d stuck the pregnancy test inside.
And beneath it, spelled out in colourful baby blocks, were the words:
Hello, Daddy.
