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“Sure, why not?” Chloe took my hand. “I’ll show you around.”

Chloe led me through the formal living to a dining room and then family room in a sort of conservatory. Everything was perfectly maintained to keep the early 1900s home in its intended form, while still appearing modern.

“What do you think?” Chloe asked.

“It’s a broker’s wet dream,” I chuckled. “You have all this natural light, and it would show so well—not a single thing out of place.”

“Tell Mom that, okay? She’ll give you brownie points. This house is her most beloved thing.”

My heart sank.

“What?” Chloe read my face.

I approached, pulling her towards me by the hips. She gazed up, surprised.

“Chloe, I guarantee that you and your brother are one-hundred-and-one-times more precious to her even if she refuses to admit it.”

Chloe dropped my gaze, but I pulled her chin toward me. “She’s excited for you. She may be awful with words, but that went about as well as it could have.”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “You don’t know her. And I worry she will think less of our kid.” Chloe lowered her voice. “What if he isn’t loved as much as Cal’s precious born-in-wedlock kids?”

I whispered, “You will be okay. And if it makes you feel better, we’re closer than they are. They can bother us mercilessly checking in.”

“Ugh!” Chloe turned slightly. “Don’t say it!”

I chuckled and pulled her back. “There will be moments you’ll wonder if it is worth it, but I promise there will be times we will want someone else to hold the baby so we can get a break.”

“We?” Chloe said. “Will we get to go anywhere?”

I nodded. “Once Piper is back and everyone knows, I want to take you on an actual date.”

She nuzzled my nose with hers. I wanted to lean into her. Her lips remained only millimeters from mine, easily kissable with a slight nudge, but she denied me, torturing me.

She said, “I will let you. And much more.”

Before I could kiss her, she pulled back, giggling. “Follow me.”

We continued the tour. I marveled at the beautiful Tiffany glass in a windowed, second floor alcove. Their rosy, blocky light leant some charm to the house that I found unexpected. It was quirky.

“And this would be where I was raised,” Chloe opened her childhood bedroom.

The pink room matched every bit of what I assumed it would be. Ribbons hung on bunting from the ceiling. Chloe’s pictures astride expensive warmbloods sat atop a bookcase of candy-colored romance novels. I lifted one from the shelf, revealing a cover complete with a woman in a big dress wrapped in the arms of a man in a cowboy hat with a shirt halfway gone. I noted the big grin on Chloe’s face—the same slightly mischievous one I hoped our baby might have.

“What? Make fun of me all you will,” she sighed.

“I'm not making fun, but I am wondering why this man is barely wearing a shirt.”

Chloe sighed and rubbed her temples. “Cole, that's the mystique.”

“Is it?” I asked. “It's a great way to end up with a terrible sunburn. What is it about these cowboys? What does that even mean?”

Chloe bit her lip. “You know, you could lean into it, right? Women cannot resist a man in a good pair of wranglers. Just accept it and let us ogle.”

I couldn't help but blush.

“Oh, don’t be surprised. Go on, judge me to for my teenaged obsession with horny cowboys and books that take many liberties with equestrian realities.”

I snickered. “Baby, I don’t care what you read, unless your affliction with cowboys has now ceased.”