I blinked. “Nova?—”
“He’s coming. He knows Austin, so it won’t be awkward. You clearly care for him.”
I stared at her, surprised by the way my throat burned at those words.
“You’re allowed to have something good,” she added softly. “You always make room for everyone else, so let me make some for you.”
I nodded, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Okay. I’ll text him.”
Nova smiled. “Good. We can tell Scarlette tomorrow before we see Austin. We’re taking her to a little museum together before the holidays.”
I got up and hugged her, thanking her for letting me share, before I quickly texted Dirks and asked if he wanted to come over.
The second I stepped outside, the cold winter air slapped my cheeks. My feet sank into the patchy, frozen grass as I jogged barefoot across the yard, heart pounding in this stupid, happy rhythm.
The house looked so warm behind me, lights glowing golden through the kitchen windows. It was the guesthouse, tuckedjust beyond the fence, that made something flutter low in my stomach.
This felt giddy. Like the first inhale after holding your breath too long.
I slipped inside and scanned the room. Shoes kicked off in the corner. Blanket half off the couch. A half-empty mug on the coffee table and my bra hanging from the doorknob.
“Jesus,” I muttered, laughing under my breath as I rushed to straighten everything.
I tossed the blanket, hid the bra, wiped down the bathroom sink with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. All while grinning like a complete idiot because he was coming over.
19
dirks
I clutched the grocery bag tighter as I walked toward the massive sprawl of a house tucked into Chicago’s North Shore. When Luna said she was living in a guesthouse, I hadn’t realized she meantNova’sguesthouse, or that Nova was even back in the States.
Austin and I had always been close. I officiated his damn wedding.
I knew we’d all agreed not to talk about it—about him—but still... I wish Luna had told me they were here. I could’ve said something to Austin. Prepared him. Given him a heads-up that he had a daughter he didn’t even know existed.
I didn’t lose my temper often. Didn’t get in my head like this much either. This had me properly rattled.
The house was beautiful, dark cedar siding, warm stone accents, and big paneled windows that let the golden light spill onto the snow-dusted porch. Through one of the windows, I could see into the kitchen—Nova stood at the island, laughing as she stirred something on the stove, her hair piled up in a messybun. Next to her sat a little girl, legs swinging from a barstool, coloring with deep concentration. She had Austin’s curls, his mouth, his whole damn face stamped onto her tiny frame, and even if I hadn’t known the story, I would’ve known the truth just by looking at her. That was his daughter. No question.
I glanced back toward the smaller structure behind the trees, where Luna had said she was staying, but my feet didn’t move in that direction. My jaw tightened, the grocery bag crinkling in my fist as I turned back toward the front steps of the house. I didn’t plan it or weigh the pros and cons, I walked up to the door and rang the bell.
The door opened faster than I expected, and there she was, Nova Thatcher.
Her face dropped the second she saw me, the color draining just enough to tell me I wasn’t the person she thought would be standing on her porch.
“Dirks,” she said softly, almost like a question.
I gave a quiet nod, gripping the grocery bag tighter. “Can I come in?”
She hesitated for a breath before stepping back and opening the door wider.
Once inside, she nodded toward the back of the house. “That’s where Luna is. The guesthouse is just down the path.”
“I know,” I said, meeting her eyes. “I wanted to talk to you first.”
Her brows lifted slightly, her expression guarded, but curious, and she shut the door behind me. The silence stretched for a second before either of us spoke.
“Mum?” a little voice called, echoing down the hall before a girl came skidding into view, her accent crisp and undeniably British. “Is it Daddy Luna?”
