Because apparently, it had.
THIRTEEN
I’d had dreams about leaving Harper Tinsley shocked speechless.
Of course, in all those dreams, I’d never imagined it was because she walked into my house to find me covered in baby spit-up with a crying infant in my arms who was apparently my kid.
My daughter.
I was still reeling, although a night of very little sleep and a crash course from YouTube about how to care for a baby made everything a lot more real. I’d watched approximately seventeen videos on diaper changing, twelve on burping techniques, and one very concerning one about what different types of baby cries meant. Turns out babies had more vocal range than I’d given them credit for.
But in all the chaos that had become my life, I’d completely forgotten about meeting up with Harper to discuss our project.
“I’m gonna need to raincheck our project stuff,” I said, adjusting Aurora in my arms as she made those soft whimpering sounds that meant she was either hungry or needed adiaper change. Or both. It was always fucking both. “Just give me a couple of days.”
Our proposal wasn’t due yet, so I figured we had some time. And I really needed to wrap my head around the clusterfuck that was my life before I could even think about classwork.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” she said, still obviously stunned. She parted her lips like she wanted to say something else, but then snapped them closed and gave a hasty wave before retreating out the front door.
I watched her go, noting the way she kept glancing back over her shoulder like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d seen. Fair enough. I was having trouble believing it myself.
Liam leaned against the doorway to our kitchen, looking almost as exhausted as I was sure I did. He’d been up half the night helping me figure out formula mixing and why Aurora seemed to cry every time I tried to put her down.
“You texted Ava yet?” he asked, nodding toward Aurora who had finally settled into a drowsy quiet against my chest.
“Nope.”
“Better do it soon,” Liam said. “She’ll be pissed if she has to find out about this through the rumor mill.”
I should’ve texted her last night, but Aurora had become priority number one, and everything else had fallen by the wayside. But it didn’t sit right with me that Harper knew before my sister.
As if summoned by our conversation, I heard the front door open and close, followed by Ava’s voice calling out, “Andrew Christopher Dumontier, you better have a good explanation for not texting me back last?—”
She appeared in the kitchen doorway and stopped dead, her eyes going wide as she took in the scene. Me, standing there in yesterday’s clothes with what was probably theworst case of bedhead in recorded history, holding a tiny baby like my life depended on it.
“What,” she said slowly, “the hell?”
“Remember how you always said you wanted to be an aunt?” I said weakly.
Ava’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to speak. “Drew. Is that…?”
“Yeah.” I shifted Aurora slightly, and she made a soft sound that burrowed itself deep into my chest. How was it possible to already be so protective of someone you met less than twelve hours ago? I’d never believed in love at first sight, but now I kind of wondered if there wasn’t something to that notion. “Her name’s Aurora, but I’ve been thinking about calling her Rory.”
Without another word, Ava crossed the room and held out her arms. I hesitated for just a second—I’d barely let anyone else hold her since I’d found her—but this was Ava. My twin. If there was anyone I trusted with the most important thing in my world, it was her.
I carefully transferred Rory into Ava’s arms, watching as my sister’s face transformed into an expression of pure wonder as she looked down at the baby. Ava automatically started swaying in that universal baby-soothing motion.
“She looks just like you,” Ava said, studying Aurora’s tiny features. “I mean, obviously prettier, but she definitely has the Dumontier nose, cheeks, and hair.”
I looked down at Aurora, trying to see what Ava was seeing. The wispy hair was definitely a sandy-brown color similar to mine and Ava’s. Even though I’d asked Tinsley if this was her doing, I knew in my heart without a doubt that this baby was a Dumontier.
“Drew,” Ava said quietly, still swaying with Aurora, “what are you going to do about school? Hockey? You can’t exactly bring her to practice or games.”
The practical questions I’d been avoiding all night hit me like a freight train. Fuck. I hadn’t thought past the immediate crisis of keeping Aurora fed and alive. But Ava was right—how was I supposed to balance everything? The guys had been helpful last night, but they couldn’t babysit every time I had commitments.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I haven’t figured any of that out yet.”
“What about Mom and Dad? Have you called them?”
