“I’m not staying,” I blurted. “Just dropping this off.” I held up the box like a shield.
“No! Come and see your donation in action!” he insisted, already walking, herding me down the corridor. I allowed it because apparently, my brain wasn’t in control of my feet.
Alex pushed open the door to the music room.
And everything in me stopped.
Warm light spilled over the sofa, where Morgan sat with Gabbi in his lap. Marcus’s partner—Tyler—had a guitar, playing lilting nursery rhymes with a gentle, unhurried ease. Morgan was humming along, Gabbi in his lap, supported by his knees, facing him, tiny hands clapping with his help—his big hands wrapped around her small ones, guiding her. She kicked his belly, delighted. The teddy I’d bought her lay beside them on the sofa, propped against Morgan’s thigh as if it belonged there.
Morgan glanced up mid-hum.
And helit up.
Not a full smile—nothing obvious—but something shifted in his eyes. Recognition.
He looked better—tidy, not quite so tired and strung out. He had on a Blackhawks sweatshirt and jeans; socked feet tucked under him on the sofa. His dark hair was ruffled, and he wore glasses.Glasses. I didn’t remember that sexy addition before.
Something punched low in my chest. I just wanted to cross the room, haul him up off the sofa, and hold him until he melted into me.
“Hey,” he said, as Tyler stopped playing.
“Hi, Cole!” Tyler said with a grin, tapping his guitar. “Come to see music in action?”
“Always,” I lied.
Alex clapped me on the shoulder. “Thought you might want to say hi before you vanish again.” Then he slipped out, the traitor.
Tyler set his guitar in its stand. “I’m grabbing coffee. You want one, Morgan? Cole?”
“Please,” Morgan said.
I nodded too.
“Back in a minute,” Tyler added, before leaving the room suddenly, shockingly quiet.
I was tight with nerves. “I, uh… brought some stuff for… y’know.” Jesus, where was the man who could run a board meeting with confidence? Where was the buttoned-up man who had his life in order? I opened the box on the floor next to Morgan, and his gaze dropped to it, then lifted back to me. “You didn’t have to but thank you. Really.”
Gabbi made a little squeak and twisted in Morgan’s lap, reaching for me, her chubby hands opening and closing, andsomehowI reached for her andsomehowMorgan let me hold her.
I shifted her into the crook of my arm, her warmth blooming through my shirt. “Hey, Princess Gabbi,” I murmured. “Are you okay?” She blinked up at me, content. “Of course you are,” I added, unable to stop my smile. I reached for the teddy beside Morgan. “Do you like Bear?” I asked, brushing the fur under her tiny chin.
My heart melted.
“She loves Bear,” Morgan said, and I noticed he was tense—probably not one hundred percent okay with me holding her or Bear. I passed her back after kissing the top of her head, then dropped to my knees beside the open box, suddenly aware of how ridiculous and exposed this felt—me on the floor, explaining baby supplies as if I was presenting quarterly results to the board.
“Okay, so… this stuff.” I cleared my throat and took out the first item. “These are silicone bibs. Easy to clean. Supposed to be, uh… leak-proof? Or spill-proof. Something-proof.”
Morgan’s lips twitched, just a little.
“And this,” I said, holding up the nightlight, “is a cloud. Literally, it glows. Apparently, babies like soft, light-shaped things. Who knew?”
Gabbi made another tiny sound, almost like agreement.
I removed the thermometer next. “This one’s gentle on infants. No scary, cold metal parts. Reviews said it’s pretty much idiot-proof.” I hesitated, then added, “I know Marcus is here and all, but if you’re ever worried, then you can use it.”
Morgan watched me, reallywatched.
“And this—” I lifted the white-noise machine. “For sleep. Or… attempted sleep. There are, uh, eighteen sound profiles. Don’t ask me why a baby needs eighteen, but people online were very passionate about it.”
