Page 142 of Reckless Vow

“Whiskey.”

I whip around, wide-eyed. “We’re babysitting.”

He shrugs. “Exactly.”

I roll my eyes, giggling. He seems to be completely unfazed by the fact we’ve been left alone with a newborn.

Getting two glasses of water, I walk back, but stop in my tracks.

Baldo picked up the baby, and he’s sitting now, holding the tiny human in his large muscular arms.

His broad frame is a stark contrast to the delicate life cradled in his arms.

He holds Micah with such tenderness, protecting him in a safe embrace. His usually intense eyes are soft now.

He is whispering something to Micah while running his index finger up and down his teensy spine.

Tears prickle behind my eyes as a warm feeling spreads through my chest. God, he’s hot. And so completely in the moment of pure love.

The sight of this man—so imposing, yet so caring—fills me with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

“Wow, look at that, you’re a baby whisperer,” Paris says behind me.

Baldo looks up and our eyes lock. His full of adoration, and I’m hoping he can find the awe in my gaze.

Because right in this moment, I know with irrevocable certainty that I love this man.

“Where is my whiskey?” he rasps.

I snort.

“You’re holding him as long as he sleeps,” Paris decides. “And if it’s more than forty minutes, you’re staying here.”

“Not a chance.” He chuckles.

“I’ll pay you,” she pleads, and I don’t think she’s kidding.

Finn returns and we drink coffee. It might be Paris’s hundredth cup today. Not that she’s finished any of them, guessing by the haphazardly scattered cups with cold, dark liquid all around the room.

Baldo joins us, holding the baby effortlessly like he’s done it a million times. And I grin dreamily.

Future mother of my children.

After seeing him today, I’m sold on the concept.

“Since you’re here, can you help me put together the stroller?” Finn asks.

“Why don’t you get someone to do this shit for you?” Baldo hands the baby to Paris.

Finn shrugs. “My parents were distant and MIA, mostly. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“Sure, but it’s not like Micah knows at this stage. Get help, and get some sleep,” Baldo says.

“Sleep is overrated.” Finn chuckles and they retreat upstairs, where I assume the stroller is.

“Do you want to hold him?” Paris doesn’t wait for an answer and pushes the baby into my arms.

He smells like innocence. So fragile, but surprisingly solid. The rhythm of his breathing and his warm weight fill me with peace.

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