Page 52 of The Decoy

A while later, we all crowd around Saint and Presley’s long mahogany dining table, which is covered in platters of slow-roasted prime rib, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, roasted winter vegetables, and warm, crusty bread. The kids eat at a smaller table near the kitchen island, their laughter and occasional clinking of juice boxes providing a backdrop to our adult conversation.

Sitting next to Brody, with his knee pressed firmly against mine beneath the table and his hand constantly finding its way to my lap or the small of my back whenever he wasn't eating, I feel a kind of deep, comfortable peace I haven't felt in years.

"So, Ellis," Saint says from the head of the table, cutting into his steak. "Brody tells us you’re commuting back and forth into Midtown every day. How’s that working for you being pregnant?"

"It’s busy," I smile, taking a bite of potato. "We’re in the middle of Q1 brand strategy launches. But Brody has turned into a total drill sergeant about my schedule. If I’m at the office past six, my phone starts buzzing."

"Yeah, but in my defense," Brody says without hesitation, taking a sip of his water. "She works fourteen-hour days if I don't drag her out of that building. The doctor said she needs rest."

"Oh, welcome to the football-player-dad era, Ellis," Alie laughs from across the table, nudging Liam with her elbow. "Your schedule will start to look like training camp."

"Hey, it works! Keeps everything running on time." Liam defends himself, pointing a fork at his wife, making the whole table burst into laughter.

"It’s true, though," Aston adds, leaning his elbows on the table and looking at Brody with a knowing smirk. "Vaughn loves his schedule."

"Already have a calendar for the baby’s feeding schedule too,” Brody admits with a small, self-deprecating grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

Presley’s eyes light up at that. "Wait … Ellis, are you moving into Brody’s then?"

I pause, setting my fork down, feeling the subtle shift in the room's attention. I look at Brody, who watches me with quiet, patient expectation.

“Not officially yet,” I say softly, honesty lacing my voice. “I still have my place. But … I spend most of my nights in Jersey now. It’s hard to stay in the city when all my favorite people and fur babies are here.”

“I’m working on it,” Brody adds quietly, his voice low and steady, his hand sliding under the table to find mine, squeezing my fingers tightly. “I think she just likes having two closets for now.”

The girls laugh, but the look that passes between Presley, Alie, and Eva is one of approval. They see what I clearly do: Brody isn’t rushing me, but he isn’t letting me go either. He’s building a home for us with unwavering patience.

After dinner, as the guys move to Saint’s office, the girls and I retreat to the couches. Little Rhyan and Sera are curled up on the rug watching an animated movie, while Remy is asleep on the floor.

“Okay,” Eva says, settling into the corner of the sectional with a fresh glass of wine. “Spill everything. How did you two actually start? Because a few months ago you were at the Overtime Gala with Dylan, and Brody had some other chick of the night.”

I smile into my teacup, remembering that night. “Honestly … it just happened. It was just time for Dylan and I to break up. And let’s just say I saw him for who he really is.” I keep it brief. “Brody was just … around. He stepped into my life unexpectedly, and he doesn’t ask anything from me. He’s just here for me, and he’s actually very protective.”

“I think it’s pretty clear he’s crazy about you, Ellis,” Presley says, looking at me sincerely. “I’ve known Brody for five years now. He’s always been polite, professional, and a great teammate. But I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you. Like he would take on the entire world just to keep you safe.”

My throat tightens, a sudden prickle of tears threatening to fall. Pregnancy hormones are no joke. But the truth of Presley’s words hit me square in the chest.

“Honestly, he really would,” I whisper, looking down at my hands. “He’s been incredible. With me, the baby, my family … everything.”

“Which brings us back to the most important topic of the night,” Alie says with a mischievous grin, pulling out her phone. “The baby shower. Ellis, we are hosting. End of discussion. We’ll coordinate with your mom so Molly feels included and gets to pick out the floral arrangements, but we’ll do it at my house or here at Presley’s.”

“Alie, you don’t have to⁠—”

“Shh,” Presley cuts me off gently, reaching over to squeeze my knee. “We want to. You’re part of our family, Ellis. You and this baby boy. We’re going to spoil you with so much love you won’t know what to do with it.”

Eva is already typing rapidly on her phone. “I’m creating a shared mood board right now. Neutral tones, soft sage greens, cream cashmere, and tiny leather football booties.”

“No more football booties!” I laugh, covering my face. “Brody already bought three pairs of tiny Nike sneakers. If we add more football gear, the nursery will look like a locker room.”

“Too bad,” Eva smirks. “He’s a baby baller. It’s required by law.”

I just shake my head and laugh.

“I’m so excited about this baby, Ellis. He’s going to be spoiled rotten by his Auntie Eva!” She claps her hands excitedly.

I have a feeling he’s going to be spoiled by a whole lot of people, especially Brody.

Around eleven o’clock, the snow stops, so we say our goodbyes, with one last round of hugs from the girls and bro hugs from Saint, Liam, and Aston. By the time we pull out of the driveway and onto the quiet night roads, the silence in the truck is comfortable.