Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(111)

“No way.” I laugh.

“Sometimes a man just needs to move on. I don’t know what you’re going to do next. But I’m sure it’s something great.”

“Thanks,” I say, my throat suddenly tight. “This hasn’t been an easy year.”

“They never are,” Coach says, getting up. “You have coffee somewhere in this fancy pad?”

“You bet. Let’s pour you a cup.”





39





Alex





I’ve hosted millions of parties, all of them bigger than this one. But I have never felt so much pride as I do right now, showing off my baby girl to friends and family. My heart might burst in front of fifteen guests.

My father is here, accompanied by his new girlfriend. There are three Bayers as well: Anton, Max, and Carl. Aside from family, my oldest friends make an interesting mix with the hockey people.

Eric’s teammates have quietly embraced his strange and sudden transition to quasi-fatherhood by bringing a collection of beers and baby gifts, including a teddy bear wearing a Brooklyn Bruisers T-shirt.

“Something for everyone,” Silas says, slapping Eric on the back. “Is that story about the sled true?”

“Which version?” he asks with a laugh. Apparently, our snowy trip to the hospital is making the rounds in the locker room. “Yes, I paid off a kid for it. Yes, I dragged it all the way into the emergency room. But the part about the cop giving me a speeding ticket? That’s just bullshit. Anton invented it.”

They all crack up.

“Happy New Year, dude,” Castro says. “It’s not the same without you around the gym.”

“Oh, I’ll be back in the gym.”

“Come by tomorrow,” the Coach says, putting Eric on the spot. “Team meeting.”

“Sure, why not,” he says. “But it’s time to grab a plate, guys. Tara has put up a terrific spread.”

After he points his friends toward the buffet, Eric comes over to see me. “Hey, pretty lady.”

“Hey yourself.” I kiss him on the jaw.

“I meant this one.” Eric slides Rosie from my arms and holds her up. “Come with me, so your mama can eat something.”

I swear—every time I see them together, my ovaries dance a jig. There is nothing like the sight of a man talking sweetly to a baby. It’s all I need in the world.

“Grab a plate for yourself,” Eric says. “I’ve got this.”

But I have other plans to put into motion.

When everyone has a plate, I pick a spot in the center of the room and then tap a spoon against my mimosa glass. “Friends! I just want to thank you for coming to see us. It’s hard to take a newborn out in the snow. I didn’t plan that very well. Heck, I didn’t plan much of anything very well this year.”

A few people laugh, but not Eric. His warm eyes hold mine for a beat. He and I are both still trying to process all the ways that our lives have been reshaped.

It wasn’t that long ago that I thought of Eric as a nice little break from reality. But that was so shortsighted. Once I stopped fighting it, I realized he could be my reality. I love him. He’s here to stay. And the rest of it is really just noise.

I still have to fight for my company, and eventually catch a hacker. But first I get to spend another few weeks at home with the people who mean everything to me. And right now, I get to give them both a gift.

“While I have you,” I say to the small crowd in my living room, “I want to show you all the hand-painted sign my father made for Rosie’s room. He made it himself.”

“I did!” my dad crows. “With these two hands. So if it’s ugly, I don’t want to know.”

It isn’t ugly. But that wouldn’t matter. Dad stunned me by offering to make the sign, so of course I said yes right away.

“Okay, Dad. Let’s do the big reveal. Ladies and gentlemen, the sign that will help Rosie learn to write her name—”

My father reaches behind his chair and pulls out a wide canvas on which he’s lettered, in three shades of yellow, surrounded by daisies: ROSEMARIE ERICA ENGELS.

“Oh, perfect!” Rebecca squeals.

There are murmurs of approval. But only one person’s opinion interests me right now. My gaze swings toward Eric because I purposefully hadn’t told him Rosie’s middle name yet.

He bursts out laughing. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” I say, crossing the room to me. “It’s legal. Right on her birth certificate. You campaigned hard, my love. And I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”

And right there, in front of the whole wide world—including both our families—I give him a big, juicy kiss on the lips. When I’m done, he’s still laughing.





After everyone is gone, and while Rosie and I are nursing in the rocking chair, Eric hangs the new sign over Rosie’s changing table. “Are you sure you don’t need to do this yourself?” he teases, tapping in the molly.

“Nope. You go ahead. I’m retired from carpentry. I breastfeed, and I diaper, and I plan to read her the entire Harry Potter series, all four thousand pages.”

“You know…” He picks up the screwdriver next. “I retired from something today, too.”