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Maybe I should stand too. I push myself up. Press my hands to my sides. “You still swear it’s good?”
“It’s really fucking good.” He slides a hand into his back pocket. “Reggie, you ready for this?”
The bedroom door opens. Footsteps move closer.
Reggie’s gaze catches Owen’s. “Are you?”
My brother smiles. “Yeah.” He turns to me. Pulls something from his jeans. “Q, you’re gonna be an aunt.”
“What?”
He unfolds a photo of a baby girl. She’s tiny, a few weeks old at most. “We’re flying to Vietnam next month.”
“Really?” God, she’s beautiful. And small. I’ve never seen a baby this small.
I already want to protect her.
“Yeah.” Reggie wraps his arm around Owen. “Her name is Ilsa.”
“Like Casablanca?” I ask.
“I told you that would ruin the moment.” Owen shakes his head.
“No.” Reggie wipes a happy tear from his eye. “It’s perfect.
It really is.
I hug my brother and his husband. Then I call Wes, tell him, insist we go out to celebrate.
We eat too much pasta and drink too much wine.
But it’s perfect.
It’s love.
My future is a blank page.
For the first time, I’m not scared of the unknown.
Well, I’m a little scared.
But I’m ready for it too.
Epilogue
Wes
“I love her so much.” Quinn smiles as Ilsa wraps her hand around Quinn’s finger. “I love her so much I actually want to move to Chicago.”
“Bullshit.” It’s beautiful here in June. But I remember Christmas. Even in the world’s puffiest coat, I was freezing. Quinn took it even worse. “Do we need to come back in December?”
“Yeah.” She leans in to press her lips to her niece’s forehead. “Every month.”
“You shouldn’t bluff with me, angel.”
“There’s bluffing then there’s love.” She stares into Ilsa’s big, dark eyes. “You’re too sweet,” she coos. “Much sweeter than Owen deserves.”
It’s hard to argue. I never got the fuss about babies, but Ilsa is awesome. The room lights up when she laughs. And she laughs at the drop of the hat.
She coos over her tiny stuffed giraffe and her favorite brand of baby food.
She’s like a baby on TV. Always well-behaved.
At least, when we’re here.
Owen and Reggie tell tales of sleepless nights and constant crying, but she’s rarely grumpy around us.
“Don’t get ideas, Q.” Owen calls from the kitchen as he pours tea for three.
“What if she likes me more?” She makes faces at the baby. “If she’d be happier?”
“She’s too young to like you more.”
She shakes her head. “Look at her smile.”
He enters the room with two steaming mugs. Sets both on the end table. Grabs the third. “When she’s older, maybe. But everyone likes aunts more. You show up with gifts”—he motions to the stuffed rhino on the couch— “and praise.”
“I’m sorry he’s jealous.” She offers Ilsa her finger. Lets the baby grab at that instead. “He’s always been this way.”
“You’re lucky I love you, Q.”
“I know.” She turns to her brother. “I’ve always been lucky that way.”
He shakes his head you’re so full of shit, but he still smiles. He’s sentimental as hell now that he has a kid.
He reaches over and bops her on the head.
She laughs.
I shoot him a look of faux aggression. “Watch yourself, Thorn.”
“Or?” He takes a long sip of his tea. Raises his brow come at me.
“Don’t threaten to kill my brother.” She keeps her eyes on Ilsa.
“You know Owen wants to throw down,” I say.
Owen chuckles.
“He can’t stand a depraved bad boy taking his sister’s honor,” I say.
Quinn scoffs. “Have you been watching those CW shows with him?”
“Maybe.” Okay, we were up all night watching TV. Ilsa was fussing. He needed company. We kept the volume low. Kept our conversation quiet.
Owen is a good guy and, well, I needed to clear some stuff with him. And to get some advice.
But, shit, I can’t think about that yet.
I’m already nervous as hell.
“I’m not a surgeon.” Owen holds up his free arm. Curls his fingers into a fist. “I can risk injury.”
I motion come at me.
He chuckles. “You realize I could kill you with a single swipe?” He mimes slicing a knife through the air.
Quinn nods. “He could. But shut up about it or I’m taking Ilsa to another room.” Her voice lifts. “You don’t need to listen to silly boys and their lust for violence. Your honor is yours. And there’s nothing dishonorable about sleeping with tattooed men. Or women. Or gender non-conforming people.”
“You sound like Reggie,” Owen says.
“He’s the smart one,” Quinn says.
“Yeah, but I married him. So who’s really smart?” Owen teases.
Quinn’s smile gets wider.
“You sure you’re good to watch her?” Owen asks.
“Yeah. Go. Enjoy your date night.” She shoos her brother away. “I know the drill. I’ve done this a lot now.”
This is our third timing visiting Owen, Reggie, and Ilsa this year
We do know the drill.
Hell, by now, I know Chicago inside and out.
It’s a nice city.
It’s not home, but it could be. If that was what she really wanted.
