Page 140 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

Jace nods. “You two earned first visitor privileges.”

I sit in the chair beside the bed because I don’t trust my knees, and Jace settles her into my arms. Oh. She weighs almost nothing. And yet somehow, everything.

“Hi, Grace,” I whisper.

Her body fits along my forearm, warm and sleepy beneath the blanket. She yawns, then settles. She’s got a tiny fist tucked beneath her chin, her fingernails so miniature that I can’t stop marveling at them.

I just stare at this brand-new baby breathing against me as the ache comes, and for one sharp moment, I let myself want. I want to know what it would feel like to look down and recognize Miles in such a small face. I want to know whether she’d get my chaos or Miles’s ability to make order of it. I want to know if Miles would be the kind of dad who checks the locks three times at night or falls asleep with a baby on his chest. Probably both.

My eyes burn. But the grief doesn’t sweep it all away, because I love this baby. I love her because she’s Grace. She’s here, and she belongs to people I love.

“I have the cutest stuffed bees to give to you,” I whisper to her.

I look up to see Miles watching me. The expression on his face makes my breath catch. There’s softness in it, and love, and something else I can’t name. I tell him, “Your turn,” and he steps closer.

He takes her with the same care he uses with anything precious, one hand supporting her head as he settles her against his chest. I pictured this once before, and now I’m seeing it in person as Miles stands three feet away from me with a newborn in his arms.

His entire face changes as he looks down at her. It’s completely, helplessly soft. One of her hands comes up, and Miles offers her a finger. Her tiny little fist closes around it, and something in his face goes completely tender. I’ve always loved Miles’s hands—capable, steady, and sure—but watching one of them cradle Grace’s tiny head makes me see them differently.

I can’t promise Miles what the future will look like for us. Neither can he. But for the first time, I let myself watch him holding a baby without immediately turning the image into something I owe him. I just let myself love the man holding her.

And I let myself wonder what the future might look like for us.

Later, after the baby is cleaned up and everyone has been moved into the endless rotation of who gets to visit, starting with Mackenzie’s parents and Evelyn, and then down through every sibling and Mackenzie’s best friend, Livi, I stand near the window while Evelyn holds her granddaughter.

Her face is so soft. Almost young-looking. The baby makes a little squeaking noise, and Evelyn smiles. “I remember when each of my kids was born, there was this feeling of our family becoming more. Not simply larger—more. Like the family itself had changed shape to make room for someone who had always belonged in it.”

My throat tightens.

“Once we knew we were done having children, I missed that feeling.” She glances toward the doorway, where Blake picks up Heidi in the middle of a full-on sprint to the door and holds her on his hip. “Then Heidi came along, and I felt it again.” She looks down at Grace. “And now again.”

My eyes burn, and I blink fast to ward away the tears.

Miles had left to take a phone call, and he appears in the doorway just after Blake and Heidi come in. Something about the sudden seriousness in his expression changes him from the man who was holding a newborn twenty minutes ago into Agent Lancaster, and my pulse ratchets up in response. He tilts his head toward the hall, and I follow him.

He stops in a space between rooms and checks that we’re alone.

“Maxwell won the bid. They’re arranging final transfer.”

My stomach flips half because I know this is a good thing for him, and half because I know I will worry the entire time he’s gone. “When?”

“We don’t know yet, but I need to go.”

I nod. Disappointment rises for a moment, but then I think about all the years when he had to leave for a client emergency, and I’m just glad to know now. I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. “Go.”

His eyes search mine. “You’re okay? I might be gone⁠—”

“I’m okay. You go be a spy.”

He gives me a quick peck, then a second, softer kiss. “I’ll call when I can.”

The second one lingers just long enough to make me wish we weren’t standing in a hospital hallway and he wasn’t about to disappear on a mission.

“And if you can’t?”

“I’ll let you know.”

I give his hand another squeeze, then he leaves.