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“I’ll carry her,” he announced to the woman who felt so right at his side. “That way we don’t have to deal with unhooking the carrier.” It wasn’t much to deal with. Click and click.

Lizzie didn’t smile, but she didn’t argue, either, as she walked with him to the front door of a modestly sized home in the same neighborhoods they’d been in the day before. The choices were all in gated communities—one of his qualifications he’d given Sandra, and yet, to him, seemed very much mainstream middle-class.

“Wow.” Lizzie’s eyes were wide as soon as they stepped inside.

Instead of going off on his own, as he had in every house the day before, he stayed right by her side. Partially because he wasn’t sure she’d pay attention to the house if he disappeared with the baby, but also because he was just drawn to be there.

Yesterday he’d been getting a feel for how far she’d let him go in terms of opulence. Today, he knew what she needed.

He was also getting a feel for the warmth of his little girl against his chest. How could he feel so strong and capable, and so weak at the same time?

What were these Sullivan females doing to him?

“I love it out here,” Lizzie said when she walked through French doors off the eating area into a backyard that, while not huge, was completely fenced and private, and had a filtered and treated waterfall and cement-bottom pond in the center of it, surrounded by flowering plants.

You’d think he’d taken her to the Taj Mahal, the way she was awed, and he wanted to take her into his arms, too. To kiss her. And laugh out loud for no reason whatsoever.

It wasn’t a home he’d have chosen. There wasn’t a closet in it big enough to contain all of his suits and business shoes, let alone anything else. There was no place for his cars. His art. His pool table. No place to host clients for a quiet evening at home.

But the house wasn’t for him.

When Lizzie told him that she didn’t need to see any more houses, that she’d made her choice, he made a full-price cash offer on the spot.

There’d still be a bit of waiting period, for a title search and paperwork, but if all went as planned, he could get Lizzie moved in the weekend between Christmas and New Year’s and still make it home in time for the big Fortune New Year’s bash.

Even if the papers weren’t finalized yet, since the house was vacant, he could rent the place for her until closing.

Everything was going exactly as planned.

So why did he feel like he was walking a tightrope over a canyon? And yet, even feeling that way he knew there was no way he’d opt out.

He and Lizzie and Stella weren’t going to be a traditional family, or even a real family at all, but they were finding a way to make “them” work. As best as they could. He told himself he was good with the arrangement.

And he hated that he’d just purchased a home for a captivating woman to live in with his child and there was no way he’d ever fit in it with them.

* * *

Saturday night, when Carmela offered to stay with Stella and strongly suggested that Lizzie head to the club to hear Nolan play, she wanted to say no. Unequivocally. To her, it felt like the wrong thing to do.

And yet, there she was, in her newest pair of jeans with a black button-down blouse that gathered at the back, black boots and the red quilted zipper vest Aunt Betty had sent her for Christmas, getting ready to pull open the door.

Her hair was down, as usual, but she’d put on full makeup for the first time since Stella was born—which for her meant foundation, blush and eyeliner. Most times lately it was just foundation. And, if she wanted to be fancy, a bit of blush.

Would he think she was inviting more than she was? Coming on to him?

Backing away, she leaned against the outside wall for a minute, trying not to panic.

What was she doing?

The door opened and she could hear music coming from inside. Truthfully, she missed the fact that Nolan hadn’t talked to her about his music much at all. The year before, they’d talked about every song in every set. And had both been engrossed in the conversation. That in itself had set him apart for her.

This year they were taking care of their baby and buying a house.

And hardly talking to each other, about each other, at all.

Showing up at the club wasn’t going to change that.

Why had Carmela started this?

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