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I blink at the curly-haired, golden-eyed girl blocking my path. “I am.”
“Finally.” She sighs dramatically. “My uncle’s been asking if you’re here yet for, like, an hour.”
“Your uncle?” I start to ask, cutting myself off before I fully finish the question because if there’s one little girl I could pick out of a line-up, it’s this one. Not only because she’s the spitting image of her little brother, but also because not a class goes by where Isaac doesn’t find some way to talk about his favorite cousin. “Rory, right?”
Proving me correct, Rory perks up. “You know me?”
“Feels like it. Izzy talks about you a lot.”
Rory hides a smile behind a sigh and an eye roll. “He talks a lot about everything.”
Can’t argue with that.
“He talks about you too,” Rory tells me. “So does my uncle. Like, a lot. My mom says it’s ‘cause he likes you but I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that. I’m not supposed to eavesdrop either but they’re so loud sometimes, y’know, and—”
“Aurora Cassandra Silva.” A bellow of her name cuts off Rory’s rant but I barely hear it, what withhe likes youringing so loudly in my ears. If it were anyone else interrupting us, I’m not sure I would even notice—again, suffering from a one-track mind right now—but Cass Morgan’s presence demands to be noticed. Towering over his niece—towering over me too because let’s face it, I’m closer to Rory’s height than his—Cass tries and fails to hide a smile. “What did we say about gossiping, little one?”
Rory tilts her head back, perfectly matter-of-fact as she retorts, “It’s not gossip if it’s true.”
“Infallible logic.” Raising his gaze to mine, Cass smiles lazily. “Gideon’s looking for you.”
“Gideon’s here?” Rory doesn’t wait for confirmation. She scans the room erratically, an excited squeal coming from the girl when she spots her target. She takes off at breakneck speed, reaching my coworker and the tall, heavily tattooed man I assume to be her husband in record time.
And leaving me alone with her uncle.
Otherwise known as the father of my child.
“You know I invited you, right?” Fingers graze my shoulder, sliding one grocery bag off, then another. “You didn’t need bribes to get through the door.”
Trying not to moan at the relief of being unburdened—only literally, unfortunately—I flash Cass a nervous smile. “You are a little unpredictable. Sue me for being prepared.”
Looking nowhere near as encumbered as I did, Cass easily hoists my so-called bribes onto his shoulders, gesturing for me to follow as he weaves his way to the nearest empty surface—the lengthy dining room separating the kitchen from the lounge. As he sets the bags down and rifles through them, I play it cool. Really cool.
I am so freaking cool as I tuck my hair behind my ears and fidget with the hem of the dress I suddenly regret wearing—I thought the loose material would help me not obsess over whether or not my stomach looks bigger than usual but instead, I’m just obsessing over whether or not I look like I’m trying too hard—and stutter, “Happy birthday,” in the most outrageously cringey sing-song voice.
Luckily for me, Cass’ focus is elsewhere. Namely on one of the containers he brandishes. “Are those cinnamon rolls?”
“Uh-huh.”
Thedimple. I forgot about the freaking dimple. “My favorite.”
I know. Google told me. I’m deeply ashamed and also pregnant with your child.
“C’mon. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
It all happens so quickly. In a whirlwind of names and faces, I meet all the people I’ve been hearing about since Luna shoved me under her wing. Cass’ sister, Amelia, and her husband, Nick, lead the introductions, herding a little girl with her mother’s red hair and her father’s golden eyes who pouts and punches when her sister introduces her as Ray. Ben and his twins, I already know, but his husband is another new face. As is Kate, who I immediately like; she presses a glass of wine into my palm with a wink, and even though I can’t drink it, I appreciate the thought. I appreciate it less, though, when I’m introduced to Cass’ brother and his mother and his father and a man who introduces himself as Amelia’s dad but calls Cass ‘son’ three times in a single conversation, and the red liquid starts teasing me.
James, Lynn, Tom, and Patrick.
Uncle, Grandma, Grandpa, and… Other Grandpa? Sorta Grandpa? Spiritual Grandpa?
A sip couldn’t hurt, right?
It’s a lot. In an indistinguishable way; I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. The bombardment is overwhelming on its own but even more so because my brain? Playing a constant loop of,your kid could have this.
Your kid never had this.
You never had this.
