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Her oldest brother scowls. “I don’t want your money. I gave my sister a place to crash. She can do whatever she wants while she’s here. Have you thought about what you’ll do when she moves out?”
“Technically, I’m staying with a friend.” Hell, if I wanted to get a place of my own, I could. “But I know Beth has plans to move out. She’ll find the right place eventually.”
Maxon raises a brow. “She told me yesterday that she’ll be leaving on Sunday.”
No shit? Where is she going? Why didn’t she tell me?
“She didn’t mention that.”
He gives me a judgmental arch of his brow. Since he’s not happy with me, I’m sure he thinks there are at least a dozen good reasons why Bethany didn’t loop me into her plans. But I can’t think of a single one. Despite telling me her secrets, is she pulling away?
Clearly, we need to talk.
I’m about to gather a carafe of coffee for Bethany, along with a plate of fruit, when Keeley enters the kitchen holding baby Kailani, who’s dressed in a white onesie that reads I found my prince. His name is Daddy. She’s also wearing a pair of pink pants and a matching flowered headband.
“Morning,” I say to break the tension. “She looks precious.”
Keeley smiles. “Isn’t she?”
Maxon kisses the baby’s head, then looks at his daughter with an adoring grin. “You would be cuter if you’d sleep more at night, but I love you anyway.”
His wife laughs. “Good luck, buddy. Britta assures me we have weeks, if not months, of two a.m. feedings in our future.”
“That sounds terrible.” But Maxon doesn’t look upset. He’s still wearing that loopy grin that says he loves his baby girl.
“Well, you signed up for it, big guy.” Keeley winks, then turns to me. “Would you mind holding her for a minute? I haven’t had a chance to say good morning to my husband yet.”
“Sure,” I mumble before Keeley hands me the infant and shows me how to support her fragile head. Once we’re good, the redhead wraps her arms around her husband and kisses him soundly.
They’re in love. It’s obvious she’s ecstatically happy with her life. Maxon looks damn smitten, too.
I want what they have. I mean, I always knew I would want a wife and kids eventually, but I saw that in my thirties, when my business was more established and I felt ready. Looking at the two of them, I feel the itch for that future now. I was ridiculous for imagining love would wait until it was convenient for me to fall.
Could Bethany ever let herself fall for me? Is happily ever after something she’s even ready for?
I stare at the pink-cheeked baby who peers at me with slitted blue eyes. She’s soft and smells good. She yawns as if she’s already ready for a nap her parents won’t be getting. She sticks her tongue out, lunging toward Keeley as if she’s seeking her mother for some breakfast. But she wraps her little fingers around one of mine. Her nearly translucent fingernails are sharp as hell but she’s absolutely adorable. I’ve never spent much time with a newborn. Suddenly, I’m fascinated—and a little envious.
Does Bethany want children someday? And why am I thinking about this before I even know whether we could possibly have a future?
Keeley ends the kiss with a squeeze of Maxon’s biceps and a saucy grin, then picks up a little remote on the kitchen counter. Suddenly, Pharrell Williams’s “Happy” floods the room. Bethany’s older brother gives his wife a smile full of devotion. My parents used to look at one another like this.
When Keeley cradles her daughter in her arms again, I load up a tray with the hot coffee and bites of breakfast.
“Want some vegetarian quiche to take with you? I can also whip you up a watermelon-kale smoothie that’s amazing.”
She means well, but that sounds terrible. “No thanks. This will be plenty for now. We’ll grab something more substantial before we head into work.”
“Okay. Well…if you change your mind—”
“He won’t, sunshine.” Maxon wraps an arm around her. “Just like I’m not going to. Most men want more than seeds and sprouts for breakfast.”
“You’re just stubborn and have the palate of a four-year-old.” She looks my way. “Come on. Back me up. You like kale, don’t you?”
I wince. “Sorry, no. I have to side with your husband.”
She gives me a mock huff. “Then out of my kitchen. Both of you! Neither of you are welcome back until you try my smoothie.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to do the dishes anymore?” Maxon teases. “Hot damn.”
As I head for the back door, I see Keeley swat Maxon with her free hand, then both of them dissolve into laughter as their daughter falls asleep, cocooned between them safely.
Yeah, I definitely want that. Bethany and I need to talk.
