“Impossible, dollface,” he says, grinning. “I was born for this.”
Maverick hands Leo over to me as he kicks, squealing, and I can’t help but laugh under my breath.
I drop onto the floor beside his bouncer and place him in it, rolling his rattle to him. He tries to grab it with both hands, blue eyes shining.
When he can’t, he screeches anyway.
The front door swings open, and Carter’s voice cuts through the madness.
“Jesus Christ. Every time I come here, it’s always so damn loud.”
Catalina trails behind him, her hand gently resting on her small bump.
Her glow illuminates the room; she’s always been beautiful, and the way Carter looks at her now makes my heart crack a little.
Carter’s glued to her side, his arm protective around herwaist. He presses a kiss to her temple before she hobbles over to the kitchen.
Maverick groans dramatically. “God, can you two not be nasty in my kitchen, or I will gag.”
Catalina smirks. “You’re just jealous because Amelia’s the only woman who threatens to stab you daily.”
“We’re kinky in this house,” he fires back.
Amelia lifts her coffee in salute. “Can’t argue there.”
Carter sighs and leans against the counter, watching his wife with a smile that’s damn near worshipful.
Catalina blushes and smacks his chest lightly. He laughs and kisses her again.
The whole room feels like love; messy, loud, genuine love.
Somehow, that’s the part that hurts the most.
I should be happy for my brothers. I am. But when all you want is your own family, it hurts when the one woman you truly want gives you only pieces of herself.
Continuing to watch them all, their laughter, the way their bodies lean toward each other instinctively, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have that.
Someone waiting at home. Someone whose voice fills the quiet.
Not just warmth borrowed through a phone screen.
Layla facetimed me last night.
But after the call, when the screen went black, I sat in my office, surrounded by receipts and silence, wondering whether I’d made her feel something real, or if I’m just some sort of convenience for her.
Maverick claps a hand on my shoulder hard enough to jolt me back. “You good, bro?”
“Fine,” I say, managing a half-smile. “Just tired.”
He squints, unconvinced. “Mmmm, no, you got that thousand-yard stare again. What’s goin’ on?”
“Nothing worth talking about.”
“Bullshit.” He grins, looping an arm around my neck and shaking me roughly. “You’re thinkin’ about that bar of yours again, aren’t you? Or a woman. It’s always one of those.”
“You’re going to break my glasses, you fuck.”
He laughs and releases me. “Still got that QB1 strength, baby.”
