“You absolutely do,” she murmurs under her breath.
Her fingers are warm, familiar.
“You shouldn’t be lifting those boxes,” I say quietly.
She rolls her eyes. “They’re napkins.”
“They’re heavy.”
“They’re paper.”
“You’re due any day.”
She leans closer, smirking. “Relax.”
The word does the opposite of what she intends.
I’ve been on edge for weeks. Watching every step she takes. Listening to every shift in her breathing.
“You hovering again?” she teases.
“I’m supervising.”
“You’re pacing.”
“I’m prepared.”
“For what?” she asks sweetly.
“For anything.”
Mrs. Dottie appears between us like summoned chaos.
“We were just telling everyone how we practically matchmade you two,” she says proudly.
“You practically ambushed us,” I correct.
She waves a dismissive hand. “Same thing.”
Sadie giggles.
The sound still does something to my chest.
“Honestly,” Mrs. Henderson adds, peering at Sadie’s belly, “we should get a plaque. A mountain wedding last year and now a new little firecracker on the way.”
Sadie laughs and squeezes my hand.
“She’s not even here yet and she’s already got a reputation,” she says.
“Hotshot junior,” Tyler calls from across the parking lot.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Careful.”
The church ladies exchange delighted looks. “See?” Mrs. Dottie says. “Protector mode.”
“I’m always in protector mode,” I reply evenly.
Sadie bumps her hip lightly against mine. “Relax, Lieutenant.”
