“That’s the worst line you’ve ever said.”
“I know. But you’re smiling.”
I was. I really, really was.
From across the room, Sutton raised her to-go cup. “To love and spreadsheets.”
“To terrible pickup lines and algorithmic cookies.” Gabriella added.
Nicholas looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Should we be concerned about your roommates?”
“Probably,” I admitted. “But they’re the reason you found me in the first place. Kyle told you about the redhead, remember?”
“Best case of mistaken identity in history,” he said, and kissed me again.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I made a mental note—some data points matter more than others. And this one—this moment, this man, this feeling—was the only algorithm I’d ever need.
EPILOGUE
DANIKA
The first thing I became aware of was warmth—Nicholas’s hand splayed across my stomach, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the slight swell that hadn’t been there last Christmas.
The second thing was the soft green glow of the baby monitor on the nightstand, showing Julia’s room still dark and quiet.
I smiled, eyes still closed. Christmas morning, and our two-year-old was actually sleeping in. Miracles did happen.
“I can feel you smiling,” Nicholas murmured against my neck, his voice rough with sleep. “What are you thinking about?”
“That we have maybe twenty minutes before chaos descends.”
“The data suggests closer to twelve, based on her wake-up patterns over the last month.” His hand moved higher, skimming the underside of my breast through my thin sleep shirt. “But I’m willing to work with that timeline.”
I turned in his arms, finding his eyes already on me, dark and warm and full of the kind of heat that still made my pulse spike after three years of marriage. “You’re still tracking our daughter’s sleep patterns in a spreadsheet?”
“Modified spreadsheet,” he corrected, his hand sliding back down to rest on my belly. “Much less obsessive than the original version.”
“That’s a low bar.”
He grinned, that crooked smile that had undone me in the lobby coffee bar four years ago. “How are you feeling? Any morning sickness today?”
“Not yet.”
I’d only taken the test two days ago, the double lines appearing on Christmas Eve like an early present. I’d told him immediately, unable to keep it secret for even a day.
“Good.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. “Because I have plans for you, Mrs. Singer.”
“Do you now?”
“Mmm.” His kiss deepened, his hand sliding under my shirt to splay across bare skin. “The Nicholas Analytics holiday party was last night, which means we’re officially on vacation. Julia’s asleep. The house is quiet. And you’re in my bed, wearing almost nothing, carrying my second child.”
Heat pooled low in my belly. “When you put it that way…”
“I’m a very lucky man,” he murmured against my throat. “The data supports this conclusion.”
I laughed, the sound turning into a gasp as his mouth found the sensitive spot below my ear. “Stop talking about data.”
“Make me.”
