Page 39 of Wrong Number, Right Gray Wolf

“When we get the fancy paper, will there be cake?”

“Lots and lots of cake, we promise.”

19

STEPHEN

I could live in here.

Standing at the entrance to the nursery, I ran my gaze over the curtains at the window that billowed in the breeze. There was a woolen blanket over the love seat and a new cushion on the seat of the rocking chair.

We’d painted the walls a soft gray which complemented but didn’t overwhelm the furnishings. I walked in and twirled the mobile hanging from the ceiling and admired the fairy lights we’d strung above the window not near the crib. We’d gotten the lights at Posy’s insistence.

This room was bathed in gentleness, but there was one thing missing. I stared at the patch of floor that should have held the crib. It reminded me of a question mark, asking when the last piece would arrive and complete the scene.

My nesting brain was irritated by that space, and my fox complained that the den had a hole in it.

But it was coming today. I had a message on my phone from Remy saying he and his mate, Hari, would deliver it themselves. Hari ran a company that made bespoke wooden furniture, and he’d overseen the making of the crib. Their son Huxley's nursery also had pieces that were made by Hari and his team.

“Do you like it, little one?” I cradled my belly, but the baby didn’t respond. They’d been awake most of the night and now were asleep.

The doorbell rang. My mate would open the door because I went down the stairs one at a time thanks to my altered sense of gravity.

Three voices and Posy’s greeted me as I reached the first floor, followed by hugs. I peered around them wondering where the crib was, but they’d come in a pickup, and there was a huge shape covered by a tarp in the back.

Posy tugged my arm. “That’s it, Papa. It’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

“I can see it.”

Hari’s company made wooden furniture to last. This crib would be handed down to the baby—Posy’s crib was in storage—and would last for generations.

Hari and Clyde strode outside while Remy and Posy issued instructions. I was in awe at the shape, but when Hari tossed off the tarp, the crib was wrapped in cloth, so I couldn’t get a good look at it.

They maneuvered the crib through the front door, and I placed a hand on the cloth. “You’re home.”

“Right, let's get this upstairs.” Clyde kissed my cheek.

There was a screech that didn’t come from any living person as the wood scraped on the banister.

“No!” Hari was very proud of his work, and he lifted the cloth to check on it. “It’s fine. There’s no damage.”

But before he could lower the cloth, Posy snuck underneath and lifted it so I could take a peek.

“It’s beautiful, Papa, and it smells good too.”

Hari rattled off instructions that included, “This way a little,” and “Angle it like this, Clyde.”

“Can I help? I’m good at puzzles.” Posy put up her hand. “What if we cut it and put it back together?”

Remy put his hands on her shoulders. “You have great ideas, but this is a very special crib, so let’s see if we can get it up there in one piece.”

I assured her she could help me add the bedding to the crib once we got it upstairs. At least I hoped it would make it up or the baby might be sleeping in something from the local department store.

“Left,” Hari told Clyde.

“I am going left,” my mate puffed.

They wedged it into the bend of the stairs where it was hemmed between the wall and the bannister.