Page 55 of The Decoy

She cuts herself off mid-sentence when she notices they’re mid-conversation and steps to the side. I pause right behind her, my breath catching in my throat as I take in the scene before us.

The study is dimly lit, bathed in the glow of the fire cracking in the massive stone hearth. Deep leather-bound books line the walls from floor to ceiling, filling the room with the familiar scent of old paper, polished wood, and aged leather.

My father sits relaxed in his high-backed wingchair next to the fireplace, a crystal tumbler of scotch balanced on his knee. Brody sits opposite him in an identical chair. His long legs are stretched out, his heavy boots crossed at the ankles, and he holds his own glass filled with scotch.

What stops me in my tracks, though, isn’t just the visual image of the two most important men in my life sitting together; it’s the unspoken camaraderie hanging in the air between them.

There’s no tension. No stiff formalities. My father is known as a fierce businessman, but he’s leaning forward in his chair, listening with genuine, focused interest, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a while. Brody is speaking in a low, measured tone that’s calm and unshakable, handling himself with dignity and confidence that have defined him since the day I met him.

“... so, yeah, we adjusted the footwork back in December to protect the pocket.”

Brody says, his deep voice carrying through the room, cutting off mid-sentence the moment he notices my mom and me.

My father looks over, his eyes softening instantly as his gaze sweeps from my mother to me. A crease forms at the corners of his eyes, like he’s happy to see us. “Ah. The decorating committee has adjourned.”

“Yes, we’re done for the day,” my mom says, pleased with herself, walking over to my dad and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you two manage to solve the world’s troubles without us?”

“Barely, my darling,” my dad muses, swirling the dark amber liquid in his glass before tipping it toward Brody. “Brody was just explaining line protection strategies and pocket management to me. This man knows how to handle himself under extreme pressure.”

“Of course he does, Charles. He’s a professional athlete for a reason,” my mom says smoothly, a satisfied spark flashing in her eyes as she looks at Brody.

Brody sets his tumbler down onto the side table. His intense eyes lock directly onto mine over my mother’s shoulder. The raw heat in his gaze is immediate and possessive, sending an electric flutter down to my core.

“You good with everything, Ellis?” Brody asks, his voice loud in the space.

“We survived,” I joke, stepping in closer, keeping my eyes on his. “Mom only threatened to start over once.”

“Fantastic! A victory by all accounts then.” Dad adds with a snicker. He looks across at Brody, his expression settling into something respectful. “Brody, thank you for spending the day with me. I couldn’t ask for a better man to be the father of my grandson. Truly.”

“Thank you, Charles,” Brody replies, rising fluidly from the chair. His movement shifts my focus completely to him. “That means a lot to me.”

Standing in the warmth of my father’s study, seeing the mutual respect pass between them, sends a sweet wave of relief washing over me.

I’m not sure I’ve ever had a partner who wasn’t intimidated by my father, who performed to gain approval. But not Brody. He simply walked into my parents’ home and earned their respect by being the solid, unshakable man he is.

“Dinner should be ready by now, let’s go eat. I’m starving after all this planning today.” My mother pulls my father up from his chair, takes his hand in hers, and pulls him toward the door.

“Lead the way, darling.” My father winks at me as they walk by me.

Brody makes his way to me and takes both of my hands in his, pulling me towards him for a kiss. “Did you have a little bit of fun?”

I kiss him again. “I did. Makes it all feel more real, you know?”

“It’s very real, Princess. In just a few months, we’ll be holding him.”

A few months. It’s hard to imagine, and I feel like there’s still so much to plan and figure out. But tonight, I’m going to try to relax and appreciate the time I have with my parents and this man who’s quickly becoming everything to me and my son.

Dinner is a fairly casual affair, though my mom insists on lighting some taper candles. The conversation slows effortlessly, filling the room with talk about Brody’s routine for the next few months, Overtime dealings, and family stories.

Brody handles every question from my parents with ease, his hand frequently finding mine beneath the table, his thumb tracing slow circles over my knuckles.

Every touch, every glance, feels like something intimate, and it makes me even more attracted to him than ever.

“You okay?” He leans in and asks in my ear.

“Yeah, but I’m getting pretty tired,” I say, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“I think we should probably call it a night.” Brody kisses my head.