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I take a seat next to her and turn so that I’m facing her. I need to see her expression when I ask her this question. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Where do you sleep?”
She closes her eyes and sighs. “I told you that you were out of my league, Marshall.”
“Stop. Tell me. Where do you sleep?” I hold her gaze, waiting for her to tell me. I know the answer. The only possible answer is the couch we’re sitting on.
“I sleep here.”
“The couch?” I ask for clarification.
“Yes.”
I swallow hard. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to come home with me. I have enough space for both of them. Instead, all I can manage to do is nod. I keep my mouth clamped shut. I don’t want to offend her, and I’m not sure if I were to speak at this moment that I wouldn’t.
“I had to give up our apartment. I couldn’t afford it. I used the small life insurance to live on until Madeline was born and to buy what I would need for her.” Her voice is soft.
Defeated.
“Wren.” Reaching out, I take her hand that’s not holding onto her daughter into mine. “If you ever need anything, anything at all, I want you to come to me.” I feel sick knowing that the amazing, beautiful woman is struggling when I have the means to help her. I know she won’t take my help, though. She’s too proud and already has this misplaced concept that she’s beneath me. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
“We’re doing okay.” She smiles down at her daughter.
I nod instead of speaking. I know that if I were to speak right now, anything that I could or would say wouldn’t sit right with her. Like, come home with me, hell, move in with me. The thought of her living in my space doesn’t scare me at all. I’m more worried about the two of them living here. Even though Wren is taking excellent care of Madeline, she needs someone to take care of her. I can do that. If only she would let me.
“I’m going to put her to bed,” she says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I stand and follow her down the hall. She carefully places Madeline into her crib and kisses her fingertips, placing them on her forehead. I sneak up behind her, place one hand on her hip, and kiss the fingertips of the other, placing them in the same place as her mother. “Night, baby girl,” I whisper.
Together, we walk back out to the living area, and Wren has to stifle her yawn.
“I should let you get to bed,” I say, swallowing hard. The couch is her fucking bed.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“I had fun spending time with you.”
“We had fun too.”
“I’ll bring dinner by tomorrow night.”
“You don’t have to,” she starts, but I stop her by pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll be at your work at five, and we can pick something up and bring it back.”
“Marshall—” she starts, but I kiss her again.
“See you tomorrow, Wren.” I step away from her and walk to the door. “Lock up behind me.”
“Always. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
I step outside and wait until I hear the click of the lock before descending the stairs and heading to my SUV. The entire drive home, my mind is racing with how I can help her. That same worry goes well into the night. By the time my alarm clock blares, I’ve had a few hours’ sleep at best. However, I’m not irritated. I get to see her again tonight, and maybe, just maybe, an idea will come to me today.
“What’s this special meeting for?” I ask, walking into the conference room.
“I have something I want to talk to you all about,” Royce says cryptically.
My other three brothers file into the room, asking similar questions and getting similar answers. I pour myself a cup of coffee. I don’t usually drink it, but I need something to keep my ass awake today. I also grab an apple strudel from the tray. It’s not as good as anything that comes from Warm Delights, but it will do.
“I want to run something by you,” Royce says, standing at the end of the table. He looks very much the CEO that he is.
“What’s up?” Grant asks.
“Sawyer and I were talking last night. We love that Mom and Dad are watching Roan.”
“And Carter,” Owen chimes in.
“And Carter,” Royce nods. “However, with two new babies coming soon, we’re afraid it might be too much for them. On top of that, I know they have things they want to do. Travel, and whatnot. I feel guilty that they’re tied down watching my son.”
“You know they love it,” I tell him.
He nods. “They do. And I appreciate knowing my son is safe, and I know that Owen does too. However, I think we need to look at an alternative solution. There are five of us. If we all have two kids each, hopefully, more…” He grins. “…that’s going to be a hell of a lot to ask of our retired parents.”
