Page 65 of Emil

The teasing in his voice was meant to reassure me. I knew that. It just…didn’t.

“So, yeah,” I said. “They’re all boys, well, littles, and they’ve all got Daddies. And yeah. That’s where we’re at with this party.”

“If I’d known Jakob was a little, I would’ve picked a different present.” Emil patted his pocket, then pulled out a birthday card.

“A present? You didn’t need to get him anything.”

“I’m not going to lie,” Emil said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a birthday party, but I’m pretty sure it’s appropriate to bring a gift.”

Please let me survive this.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EMIL

Poor Anders.

After the little confession, Anders looked ready to melt straight into the doorstep. He was one wrong breath away from turning green, and even though every instinct in me wanted to scoop him up and carry him back out the door, I didn’t push. I just leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

“I hope this isn’t a mistake,” Anders muttered when I pulled back.

That was my cue to return and linger. His lips parted, just a little, and I kissed him properly this time. He needed soothing, not claiming.

When I pulled away, Anders took a breath and muttered, “Here goes nothing.”

Anders led me down the hallway toward the back of the house, where the party was happening, and holy hell, it sounded like chaos.

The shouts of boys laughing and playing bounced off the walls, layered over the deeper, steadier sounds of their Daddies talking. When we stepped through the entryway, everything stopped. Every conversation. Every laugh. And every head turned.

Anders tensed beside me like a deer caught in headlights. One glance told me he was right on the edge. I dropped a hand on his shoulder and said calmly, “Hello, everyone. I’m Emil.”

A chorus of “hello” and “nice to meet you” answered back. Eight sets of eyes stayed locked on us, and it felt like walking a gauntlet. No wonder Anders was nervous. This was a lot of attention, the wrong kind, all at once.

“Hi, I’m Gabe. It’s nice to meet you,” a dark-haired man said as he stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “Although I think we met at a Chamber of Commerce event a while back.”

Rory followed close behind him, someone I recognized from his lunch with Anders.

“Yes, we did. Good to see you again. Architect, right?” I asked.

Gabe nodded, and one by one, the rest of them came forward to introduce themselves. Some of them were deeper into little space than others, some chatty, some quiet, but it was obvious they were all protective of Anders. Curious about me too. I could see the wheels turning about how I’d ended up here, standing so close to him.

“Anders, Anders, you gots to eat your salad. No sharing,” Jakob said, shoving a plastic bowl toward him.

Anders barely caught it before it hit the floor.

“Thanks, Jakob. That’s really sweet,” Anders said quickly. “I bet it’s delicious.”

“You gotta try it right now,” Rory insisted.

“We all made it together,” said a barrel-chested Hispanic man wearing a bright pink princess dress. “Owen stirred ’cause he’s a good stirrer.”

He stood next to a guy who vaguely reminded me of a local hockey player I’d seen on billboards around town. Off to the side, another little hovered with a bottle in his hand, slightly behind a fourth one. That fourth one kept shooting me looks every time his gaze bounced between Anders and me, like he was trying to decide whether I was a problem.

I glanced down into the bowl Anders was holding. Under the plastic wrap, I had absolutely no idea what I was looking at.

“How is this a salad?” I asked.

“Salad is doing a lot of work in that description,” Anders muttered. I didn’t miss the defensive edge in his voice. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him.