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Buzz. A phone buzzed, but it was Monroe’s cell, not mine, darn it.
Monroe glanced down at the incoming message. “Holden spoke to your dad yesterday and to the state task force today, who gave the go-ahead to get a statement from Leon on Friday.”
Monroe had filled me on his hopes that Leon would remember something relevant to the case.
“Cool. I hope this is the break you’ve been looking for.”
“We. You’re part of the team now too. Couldn’t do this without you.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t exactly kiss or hug him right there, but I tried to tell him with my eyes how much it meant to me to be included.
Buzz went the phone again, and I groaned. “More from Holden?”
“No, it’s your phone this time.”
“Oh!” I scrambled for where I’d set it on the counter.
Baby here. It’s a boy. Few scary moments, but he’s a fighter, as is his mama. Off to the NICU for some extra help. You can tell the girls. We’re still working on the name.
“I have a brother.” Dazed, I stared down at the phone.
“Baby?” Poppy was the first to look up. No surprise there.
“Yeah, the baby’s here. It’s a boy! He’s going to need some time in the hospital to get big and strong because he’s still a little early, but hopefully, you can meet him soon.”
“What’s his name?” Lily demanded, little forehead furrowing under her blonde curls.
“They haven’t picked yet,” I admitted, immediately regretting it as they started yelling a flurry of suggestions.
“Kermit!”
“Bluey!”
“Prince Charming.” The last was Poppy, of course. I calmed them down long enough to eat the spaghetti, laying waste to the counter, their clothing, and a good chunk of the floor in the process. As soon as I finished cleanup, they were back on the topic of the baby.
“The baby needs a birthday cake!”
“I’m not sure—”
“Cake! Cake! Cake!” All three marched around the kitchen, chanting.
“That’s not a terrible idea.” Monroe, who had relaxed into the worst kind of enabler, opened the pantry to pull out a boxed mix and tub of frosting. “Let them have their fun.”
Fun meant more cleanup and sugar-high kids who refused to settle until we did the camping game again. It was late when I pulled a cover over Monroe, who’d fallen asleep with a storybook on his chest. He’d read from a chapter book until they’d each fallen asleep, Monroe included.
I settled myself next to him, but I was too wired to sleep, heart so full from listening to Monroe read, all his voices and careful glossing over of the scary parts. He was absolutely everything I’d ever wanted, and I needed the other important people in my life to see that.
And right on cue, as I was just about to shut my eyes, I heard a car, then a key in the lock. I trotted into the kitchen to meet my dad so he wouldn’t wake the girls or Monroe.
“You’re back?” My voice came out wary for a multitude of reasons.
“Yeah. Jessica insisted I sleep here so Angie could stay with her at the hospital.” Dad scrubbed at his short hair. “Baby’s still in the NICU, so it’s mainly about getting Jess some rest. And she wanted me to be here when the girls wake up, so I can show them pictures of the baby and let them know…” He swallowed hard, looking down at his battered sneakers. He’d been in uniform earlier in the day but had changed at some point into what seemed like a random assortment of items from his gym bag. “I’m supposed to let them know how loved they still are. Don’t want them feeling left out.”
“That’s important,” I said evenly.
“It is.” His tone was strained, and he still wasn’t meeting my gaze. “I love you, Knox. I will always love you, but I can’t support this decision of yours.”
“Which one?” My voice came out surly, my inner teenager roaring to life as soon as he got all parental.
“Take your pick,” he shot back, then slumped against the nearest counter. He looked utterly wrung out, and despite the argument, my chest pinched for him. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. And Jessica says I need to let you make your own choices and mistakes. She might have a point, but I can’t seem to stand by and let you ruin your life.”
“Jessica’s right. And how can you think Monroe is the type of mistake that will ruin my life?” Crossing to the fridge, I pulled out the remnants of the cake.
“He’s twice your age.”
“Ignore that for a second. You’ve been friends for a long time. And he’s a damn good person.” After cutting Dad a generous piece of the lumpy-but-tasty cake, I handed him the plate and a fork. “You’re friends with everyone, but Monroe’s special. He’s more than another acquaintance.”
“He’s not a bad guy.” Dad saluted me with his fork before taking a bite. “Thanks for the cake. And Monroe should know better.”
