And right at the bottom, tucked beneath the packing paper like an afterthought, was the thing that I spent an hour researching.
A tiny, knitted hat.
Cream yarn. A little teddy bear on the brim. Handmade with love. I’d found the shop online at three in the morning after falling down a rabbit hole titled “winter essentials for newborns.” The designer customized every piece, and I’d asked her to stitch one word onto the inside tag.
Gabbi.
It was stupid. Overly personal. I shouldn’t have ordered it. But the moment I saw it, I knew she needed it—something warm, something that was hers, something that said someone out there had been thinking about her.
And this was on top of the delivery I’d organized for pediatric items to be added to Marcus’s onsite surgery.
Lennox leaned in. “What’s all this?”
“Nothing,” I said too quickly, closing my hand around the tiny hat.
But it wasn’tnothing.
It was the thing I shouldn’t have bought.
And the thing I wanted Morgan to see most.
Lennox smirked as if he’d just solved a puzzle. “Something you want to tell me? You gonna be a daddy?” His grin widened, and then he faked shock. “You finally gave in and got a girlfriend mom and dad would approve of?”
“No, this is for a friend,” I kept my eyes on the box, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks.
“Right,” he drawled.
I shot him a look. He grinned, completely unfazed.
“Go home, boss,” he said, tapping the stack of untouched reports. “It’s dead in the office. End of the year, no one’s working. You’re not working. And if you sit here staring out that window for another hour, I’m gonna revoke your access badge for your own good.”
“I have tasks to finish.”
“You clearly havesomethingto finish,” he said pointedly and gestured at the box. Then, more gently, “It’s okay to leave early. It won’t make the shareholders cry.”
I blew out a slow breath. I still couldn’t get Morgan and Gabbi out of my head. The way Morgan had looked at me as if he didn’t believe he deserved any kindness. The way he’d held that baby—careful, terrified, aching.
And the way I hadn’t wanted to walk away from either of them.
I shoved back my chair. “Fine. I’ll head out early. But only if you go too. And anyone else who wants an extra day of leave. Tell everyone.”
Lennox rolled his eyes. “We are not setting that precedent,” he huffed. “Everyone will go home, and then what happens?”
“They have a life?” I blinked at him innocently.
“I’ll let everyone go an hour early.” He headed for the door. “But you, boss, you’re goingnow.”
I ignored that and pulled the box toward me. Whatever this was in my head… it mattered.
And for the life of me, I didn’t know why.
I didn’t begin to pretend I was going home. I told myself I wasjust dropping off the box. No lingering. No checking in. No being weird.
Guardian Hall was quiet when I arrived—early evening hush, snow drifting in lazy spirals across the courtyard. I carried the box in both hands, rehearsing a quick drop-off, a wave, and a fast exit like some UPS driver who didn’t want a signature.
Alex spotted me before I reached the front desk.
“Oh, good,” he said brightly, fartoobrightly. “You’re here.”
