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Mine.
Abruptly, Tommy burst through the doors, beaming. “He’s here. Mason Henry Daneker. Eight pounds, seven ounces, nineteen inches, and a full head of red hair.”
Bronte leaped up to hug her brother-in-law. “When can we see him?”
“In a little bit.” Tommy hugged everyone, including Chris, twice. Picking up Zoe, he said, “You want to see Mommy?” When she bobbed her head, he waved to the group. “Give us a few minutes?”
“Guess I should call your brother,” Bronte’s dad said, tugging out his cell phone.
“I’m going to go down to the gift shop, see what they have.” Bronte gestured to Chris. “We’ll be back in a bit.”
Walking hand in hand to the elevator, Chris towed her into his side. “Your family never wants for excitement, huh?”
“Too much?”
“Nah. I love it. All the energy, how everybody is in everybody else’s business. Your family’s great. I feel really lucky to be included with the Hollinger crew.”
If she weren’t already smitten with him, that would have sealed the deal. She planted a swift kiss to his cheek, and the elevator arrived, the doors opening with a soft ping. A pair of nurses strolled in behind Bronte and Chris, settling into the corner opposite them.
Chris kept his attention on the red numbers above them, counting down to the lobby, but Bronte could have sworn the nurses did a double take toward him as they exited. He either didn’t notice or care, so she tried not to either.
At the gift shop, they perused the merchandise, deciding on flowers for Shelley, a monkey balloon for Mason, and a chocolate bar for Zoe. The old man behind the counter pecked at the cash register with his index fingers, slow to ring everything up, so Bronte browsed the magazines. A picture of Chris graced the cover of one, the same one Rachel had shown her a few days before. The caption read, “CJ Cunningham Bearded and Beautiful.”
Chris huffed and snagged it out of her hands. “Don’t read that.”
“It’s kind of hard not to.”
He wrapped a hand around her elbow, tugging her close so no one else could hear when he said, “Promise me you won’t read that kind of stuff. They’ll print anything for money.”
Those celebrity gossip magazines had never held much interest for her, but now that Chris was on the covers, it was kind of impossible not to pick them up out of curiosity. “I promise.” She glanced at the gossip rag once more. “Who even took that picture anyway?”
He shrugged. “Could have been anyone with a cell phone. It paid for somebody’s college tuition.”
That didn’t make sense to her. “Why haven’t people flooded here to see you if they know where you are?”
“They don’t. Wes made a deal. If the magazine didn’t print my location, they’ll get first rights on my next photos.”
“But…what? I don’t understand.” It was obvious where he was. The picture showed him walking out of a gas station down the street from her parents’ house.
“It was a close-up, no street signs or landmarks to designate where I am. The only people who know where the photo was taken are the person who took it and the magazine, and they were both paid handsomely to keep their mouths shut. The next time I’m out and ready to be seen, Wes will call their photographers, and they’ll get their exclusive. This Hollywood thing is all about making money. It’s a big scam.” Chris described the whole ordeal with a sneer as he paid the old man, who didn’t put two and two together even though he got a good look at Chris and the magazine.
Although it didn’t escape Bronte’s notice how Chris kept his head down as they walked, his shoulders raised until they got back into the elevator. It was empty this time.
“Do you want to borrow my glasses?” She held them out to him. “It might help as a disguise.”
He took them from her hand to settle them back on her face. “I like them better on you. Like a sexy librarian.” He kissed her neck, bringing her in front of him with his hands at her hips, the proof of his librarian kink pressing against her backside, but she shoved him away, hopping out of the elevator when it opened back up on the maternity floor. “You better return those overdue library books, or you’ll have to pay a fine.”
She tossed him a lascivious, over-the-top wink that had him laughing until she bumped into the table, not watching where she walked. “Son of a…”
He caught up to her, his hand on the small of her back as she bent to rub the side of her knee. “You okay?”
“Hard corners and I don’t mix.”
He shook his head, bemused. “Will I have to get those plastic things for all the furniture, then?”
“Only if you’re planning on keeping me.”
He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. “Oh, I’m keeping you.”
