“I think three guys just showed up with sledgehammers.”
Stella laughs, a sleepy, knowing sound. “Oh, boy. Tell me everything.”
The tightness in my chest loosens, just a little. Even though I have no idea what I’m going to do, I don’t have to figure it out alone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Amber
When I hangup with Stella, the clock on the dashboard glows 8:02 p.m. I grab my purse and push the car door open, stepping into the crisp night.
There’s light coming from behind the house. Strings of overhead lights crisscross the backyard, illuminating the falling snow with a soft amber glow.
I stand there for a moment, blinking against the brightness. Then I see them.
Dorian and Ryker are on the back patio, which has been completely shoveled clear. They’re moving a heavy wooden table toward the center, their breath puffing in the cold air.
Near the railing, Norah is bundled in a thick coat, her hand resting on the swell of her belly while she watches Maisie. Rufus is chasing his tail in circles near Maisie’s boots, barking joyfully every time he nearly catches it.
“What’s going on?” I call out, shutting the door with a thud. “Is the power out?”
Maisie spins around, her red glasses slipping down her nose. “Mommy! You’re home! We’re having a picnic!”
“A picnic?” I walk toward the steps, stamping the snow off my boots. “It’s twenty degrees out here.”
“Thirty-two,” Dorian corrects, flashing me a grin. He looks lighter than he has in weeks, the permanent crease between his brows finally smoothed out. “The storm broke. Sky is clear. We figured why waste a good snow.”
“Plus, we wanted to surprise you,” Ryker adds. He’s wearing a thick flannel shirt and a beanie, looking every bit the rugged mountain man. “You’ve been working so much. We wanted a proper family dinner.”
The back door swings open. Jude steps out, a massive platter of raw meat in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other.
“Burgers,” he announces. “And steak for the adults. I found some prime ribeye in the freezer I forgot I bought.”
“Burgers!” Maisie cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “With cheese?”
“Stacks of it,” Jude promises. He sets the platter down on the table and walks over to me, enveloping me in a quick, one-armed hug. He smells like sawdust and cologne. “Glad you’re back. Grab a beer. There’s a cooler on the deck.”
“You guys really didn’t have to do this,” I say, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I’m exhausted. I would have been fine with cereal.”
“Cereal is for mornings,” Ryker grunts, firing up the propane heater near the table. It roars to life, pushing a wave of warm air toward us. “Sit. We’ve got this.”
I move toward the steps, stripping off my heavy coat and hanging it on the rack near the door. Dorian joins me, wiping his hands on a rag.
“How was the appointment?” I ask him. “Your mom?”
He smiles, a genuine expression that reaches his eyes. “Good. Actually, really good. The new medication seems to be stabilizing the flare-ups. She had more mobility today than she’s had in six months. The doctor is optimistic.”
“Dorian, that’s wonderful.” I squeeze his arm. “I know you’ve been worrying yourself sick over this.”
“I have been,” he admits. “But tonight... tonight feels like a celebration. She’s doing well. You’re here. The baby is cooking. It’s a good night.”
I grab a beer from the cooler, popping the tab. The cold liquid is refreshing as I take a sip, washing away the lingering taste of the restaurant kitchen and Eli’s fearful scent.
We eat outside, huddled around the table with the heater blasting. The burgers are juicy and perfectly charred, the steak seasoned to perfection.
Maisie tells us a story about a kid in her class who ate a crayon, acting out the scene with dramatic flair that has everyone laughing.
I look around the table. Jude is rubbing Norah’s back, whispering something in her ear that makes her blush.
