All that was left was warmth. And him. And her.
When Saturday arrived, I’d worked myself into panic again. We arrived at Guardian Hall, and Georgie had the car idling at the curb when I stepped outside—a sleek black Mercedes, spotless as ever, with a baby seat installed in the rear. The trunk was already loaded with every conceivable baby-disaster item a paranoid man could justify owning; spare clothes, wipes, blankets, a portable bottle warmer, snacks, toys, and a first-aid kit—actually, two first-aid kits.
“Big day, sir?” Georgie asked, eyes twinkling in the rearview.
“Don’t start,” I warned, tugging at my coat. “I’m nervous enough.”
He smiled as though he’d been waiting years for me to say something that embarrassing.
I ignored him and headed up the path. My knock had barely landed before the door opened.
Morgan stood there—one hand maneuvering the brand-new stroller I’d had delivered, too embarrassed to admit I’d done it, the other juggling two large bags. And Gabbi, strapped to his front in a carrier, wearing the hat.
The hat.
My heart did something stupid.
“You don’t have to carry all that,” I said, reaching for the stroller.
Morgan huffed out a laugh. “I wasn’t planning to. I figured you’d swoop in like some stroller valet.”
“That’s not a thing,” I protested, taking the bags anyway.
“It is now,” he said, stepping aside so I could grab the last strap.
Gabbi spotted me, let out a delighted squeak, and kicked. The hat wobbled.
“She’s excited,” I said unnecessarily. Morgan smiled, his eyes fond and tired, and I nodded toward the street. “Car’s right out front.”
We headed down the steps together, me overloaded like a pack mule, Morgan adjusting the carrier straps as he walked.
Georgie hopped out to help, greeting Morgan with a polite nod and Gabbi with a grin. “Afternoon, little miss.” He tickled her foot; she squealed.
We loaded the bags, folded the stroller into the trunk, and got Gabbi settled into the car seat with only minor wrestling and one enthusiastic kick to my face.
When I closed the door and rounded the car to slide in beside Georgie, I buckled in and twisted to look at Morgan in the back, Gabbi strapped in beside him. “You ready for this?”
He hesitated, eyes flicking to Gabbi, then back to me. “Yeah,” he said softly, tilting his chin in that brave way he did when he wasn’t entirely sure. “It’s all good.”
“Ready, sir?” Georgie asked.
I faced forward, exhaling slowly. I wished I was in the back with them, but I hadn’t thought this through. Next time, I should use a bigger car so I could sit in the back with Morgan and Gabbi without crowding them. Or hell, buy something else if I needed to.
Whatever made things easier. Whatever made them comfortable.
Anything for them.
Anything.
ELEVEN
Morgan
I’d never beento the Chicago Children’s Museum before. I’d never been anywhere like it—bright colors, noises bouncing off every surface, a chaos that should’ve overwhelmed me but somehow didn’t. Maybe because Cole was there, hovering close enough for comfort but not so close that I was trapped. Maybe because Gabbi’s delighted squeals were louder than anything else.
He paid for the tickets before I could even get my wallet out—of course, he did—and held the door open. I rolled the stroller inside, the warm air hitting us instantly.
Gabbi’s eyes went wide. Huge. Curious. She kicked her legs and made this breathy sound she always made when something new caught her attention.
