Page 66 of The Decoy

I raise two fingers, signaling for him to come outside.

His grin widens, he nods at me, hands Aston his bottle of beer, then cuts straight through the crowd toward the doors leading to me.

Brody steps out onto the stone terrace, the breeze catching his short dark hair. He closes the distance between us in three strides, stepping into my personal space, making me tilt my head back to meet his gaze.

Without saying a word, his palm slides over the curve of my stomach, then around to my lower back.

“Hey, Princess,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You doing okay? You need to sit for a while?”

“No, I’m okay,” I reply, my eyes locking onto his with calm confidence. “I’m perfect, actually. How are your mom and Lauren holding up with this crowd?”

“Oh, they’re loving it,” he says, his thumb brushing along my spine. He pauses, his gaze darkening with emotion. “Ellis…yesterday…seeing my mom and sister in our home…you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” I say plainly, reaching up with my free hand to rest my fingers against the sharp, rough line of his scruffy jaw. “You take care of everything. You never ask for credit or praise either. Bringing your family here wasn’t a favor, it’s what you deserve. It’s okay to let me take care of you every once in a while.”

His eyes burn into mine as he leans down, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath fanning across my cheek.

“I love you, Ellis,” he growls softly.

“I know you do, Vaughn,” I murmur back, a knowing smile on my lips. “And I love you.”

“Alright, mommy and daddy to be! Save the kissing for after the presents.”

Alie’s voice carries outside to us as she stands in the doorway.

Presley, Eva, and my mom stand beside her, surrounded by a massive mountain of beautifully wrapped packages, custom wood boxes, and floral gift bags stacked neatly on one of the tables.

“Everyone, please find a seat!” Alie calls out, her type A personality shining through her bright smile. “We’re moving on to toasts, tears, and terribly cute baby gifts.”

We follow Alie in, and Brody leads me to an armchair near the front of the room, making sure I’m completely comfortable before positioning himself directly next to me. He places a hand on my leg, a steady reminder that he’s right here with me to celebrate our baby boy.

June and Lauren sit on the other side of Brody, June giving me a warm smile.

Alie claps a few times, her gaze sweeping over the guests, a mix of family, friends, and Titans’ players and their families.

“When Ellis first told us she was pregnant,” Alie begins, her voice carrying, “I was so excited to have a friend going through pregnancy at the same time as me.” She places a hand on her bump. “But we,” she points to Presley and Eva, and then nods at my mom, “also knew we were going to throw her a shower fit for a Renwick. And just look at our mama-to-be, looking radiant. It’s clear that today isn’t just about presents, cake, and flowers. It’s a celebration of the extraordinary life she and Brody are building together for their baby.”

A soft round of applause sweeps through the room. I glance at Brody and see his eyes on Alie, but I can feel the warmth of his hand on my leg, like an anchor.

“Ellis and Brody, we’re so excited to celebrate your baby boy today. To baby Vaughn!”

“To baby Vaughn!” the guests echo in unison, raising their glasses.

I take a minute to absorb the moment, a smile on my face as Eva steps up next, carrying a box tied with a thick velvet ribbon.

“Okay, no more emotional speeches, I’m not ruining my makeup!” Eva says, laughing. “We have gifts to open, and Presley spent like three weeks tracking down the perfect gift, so let’s get started.”

For the next hour, the room is a blur of laughter, chatter, and tearing wrapping paper. Eva and Aston gave us a beautiful set of hand-carved developmental toys. Alie and Liam had an heirloom-quality rocking chair crafted by an artisan in Vermont. Presley and Saint gave us a set of classic children’s books, each with handwritten notes inside.

Brody’s mom made the baby a hand-stitched quilt made from soft cotton in sage and cream, her eyes shining with emotion as I smooth my fingers over the delicate pattern.

“My mother made one for Brody and then for Lauren when they were born,” June says softly. “I wanted my grandson to have one too. Carry on the tradition.”

“It’s stunning, June,” I say, meeting her eyes. “It’s going to stay with him forever.”

Brody’s hand tightens on my shoulder, his pride palpable.

As my mom clears away the final gift, I turn in my seat and catch Brody’s eye.