She lifted her face to press a kiss to Sera’s cheek before slipping from beneath her niece’s arm and crossing to Gavin. With a gentle smile, she pressed a matched kiss to his cheek.
“Don’t repeat my mistakes. If it’s what you both want, take the joy of the moment. Don’t let all those pesky thoughts get in the way.”
The kitchen timer went off, effectively snapping everyone’s attention away from Robin’s words. And as he watched Sera and her aunt move into the kitchen, Gavin had to admit he was deeply comforted and, oddly, more confused at what should come next.
So when Enzo waved him over to the couch after complaining about a bad ref call, Gavin went willingly. If he was going to feel his way through it all, he could at least holler some smack talk at the TV with his child’s great-uncle while they waited for the lasagna to cool.
It wasn’t an answer, but it sure felt like a solid start toward the future.
Chapter 12
Sera had her feet up on the couch, her eyes drooping, when she heard the distinct sound of a dropped dish in her kitchen.
“Are you okay?” she hollered in the direction of the noise, well aware she should get up and help. Even if her body felt like it was weighed down with lead.
The morning sickness had continued to improve along with her energy levels, but something about the worry over the past few days, prepping for the dinner, had taken more out of her than she’d realized. But after an absolutely outstanding dinner with Gavin and her aunt and uncle—with the pressure suddenly gone—she’d crashed hard after Aunt Robin and Uncle Enzo left.
It felt a bit silly now, with things having gone so well, but she could acknowledge that she’d been anxious about the dinner.
Would they like Gavin? Would Gavin like them? How would they take the news of the baby?
She certainly had the maturity and lifestyle to handle an unplanned pregnancy, but that lingering sense of...well, not shame but old-world values, she finally settled on, had weighed a bit. Maybe more than she’d realized, if the exhaustion dragging at her was any indication.
“I got it!” Gavin’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Nothing broke.”
She supposed she should leave him to it, and really, who even cared if he broke every dish she owned? It would be worth it not to have to scrub that lasagna pan. After Robin and Enzo headed out, Gavin had ordered her to the couch with a cup of fruity tea and said he’d handle the dishes.
She settled in for the indulgence, sipping her tea and letting the evening float through her mind on a hazy loop.
He’d been charming. In a way that had been so deeply genuine and caring. Her aunt had been enamored from the first, and in a small way, it had helped that her family already knew him as one of their tenants. Her uncle had been stern at first, but he’d warmed quickly, that preexisting knowledge of Gavin enough to smooth out a few rough moments.
After all, she was a grown woman. One who’d seen her fair share of life and was excited to bring a baby into this world in spite of that. Robin and Enzo were the only ones who truly understood that.
And it was time Gavin understood it, too.
She stood to go in and help him with drying the dishes when he walked into the room, a fresh mug of tea in his hand and a cup of coffee for himself. “The lasagna pan’s soaking and also happens to be the only thing left.”
The sight of him—standing there with two mugs in hand and a soft smile—nearly undid her, but she held on. She’d resolved to tell him about her past, and there was no chickening out now. “Let it soak overnight, and I can get it tomorrow.”
He waved a hand. “I’m all-in. It’ll be a quick cleanup before I leave. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my coffee and not think about having a second piece of that pie your aunt brought for dessert.”
“Since Aunt Robin’s apple pie is widely known throughout Brooklyn as being the best, I might join you.”
“Watch out. Lucille might bar you from entering her shop if she hears you spreading that one.”
He spoke of one of Sunset Bay’s most well-loved proprietors, the ageless Lucille, who ran one of the shops on Main Street. Her pies were excellent, and even Robin would give the woman the edge on her peach pie and on her coconut-custard. But when it came to apple, Sera’s aunt owned the ribbon.
“Then it’s a good thing they’re fierce friends,” Sera said, unable to hold back the smile.
“Fierce?”
“They would fight to the death not to reveal their respective pie crust recipes, but trash talk either of them in earshot of the other and prepare yourself for a rant and then, as I believe it’s called, ‘the cut direct.’”
“So noted.” He took a seat on the chair that sat beside the couch where she’d been dozing, his dark gaze appreciative as he looked at her over the top of his mug. “That went well, all things considered.”
“It did. It definitely helped that they already liked you and have checked your credit score.” At Gavin’s easy laugh, she kept on with the truth. “But you’re also easy to like. Charming and earnest, and your words about being all-in as a father went a long way.”
“I am. All-in. And getting more and more excited every day. I’d like—” He stopped, but she was more than curious to press for more details.
“You’d like what?”
“If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to come with you to your next appointment.”
Sera didn’t consider herself someone easily rattled. She had to be firm and think through all the angles in her job, a trait that had carried over to the rest of life. Or perhaps she’d found a job that accommodated the traits she already had.
No matter, she mentally shook her head.
What mattered, she realized as she stared into those deep brown eyes, was that he was in this with her. They might not have a relationship, but they would co-parent together. It meant a lot.
It meant everything, she amended to herself. And because it mattered, she owed him all the rest.
“I’d like that. It’ll be at the end of the month. I’m having an ultrasound, so you’ll get to see the baby, too.”
“Have you had one before?”
“Just once, at around eight weeks. Actually—” She glanced toward the small treasure box she kept on the coffee table. Opening it up, she pulled out the small stack of black-and-white images. “I have a few copies. Please take one.”
Gavin set down his coffee, his gaze unmoving from the photos in her hands. Gently, almost reverently, he took the small stack and flipped through them, one by one.
