“Sure. Let me just see this baby one last time.”
She makes her way over to Alley. “Bye, Alley.” She gives her a hug, then gently runs her hand over Roman’s head. “Bye, sweet boy.”
She looks back at Jensen with a grin. “You two did good. You make cute babies.”
I slap Jensen on the back. “What she said,” I say. “Love you, man. You two get some rest.”
“Love you too, brother. Thanks for coming,” Jensen says.
Then I walk over to Alley and bend over the hospital bed, giving her a hug. “Thanks for the chat,” I say quietly.
“Anytime,” she says with a soft grin.
I kiss the top of her head. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” she says back.
I take a few steps back and reach for Jordan’s hand. She smiles and weaves her fingers through mine as we step out into the hall.
Today has been long, exhausting, and eye-opening.
I glance at Jordan as we make our way down the hall, hand in hand. A deep calm washes over me. One of those moments where you catch a glimpse of the future without fully understanding it, but you feel it anyway. And it feels good.
Maybe this time I just need to trust it. Trust her.
Whatever the hell that looks like.
Chapter Forty-Four
JORDAN
I’m trying notto spiral and make this a thing. Trying to be fine with it.
I’m failing… miserably.
I told myself I was all in. Period. The end. I love Matt, and Iknowhe loves me—this truly shouldn’t matter.
But he just told Jensen and Alley he loves them.
Jensen? Sure. They’re brothers. I love Jensen.
I love Alley too, she’s great, but he’s only known her for six years.
He’s known me forever.
It’s not jealousy. I know he means it platonically, the way you love a family member. I’ve even heard him say it to her before. God, he says it to all of Jensen’s family. Everyone who’s important to him.
Everyone... except me.
“Christ, that baby’s cute.” Matt’s voice pulls me back to the present. Back to his hand that’s gripping mine. Back to the way he gives it a squeeze, or even a kiss every few minutes, right before he glances over with a smile.
He loves me.
I turn my head toward him, resting it against the leather seat of his Porsche. “He is,” I say. “He’s so damn cute.”
There it is again—another hand squeeze.
My lips curve. “He’s so tiny. So perfect.”
