Page 65 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“He’s tiny,” he said. “Did they say what he weighs?”

“Six pounds, two ounces.”

“Well, we’ll fatten him up.” He gave Joe a tickle under his chin. “We’ll feed you up, won’t we? Who’s our big boy?”

Joe pulled a face at him and waved his chubby arms.

“He has his dad’s eyes,” said Paul. “He gets those from me.”

I’d guessed Paul would go home once Sam arrived, but instead, he’d followed us to Haverford. He’d stayed almost two weeks at the nearest B&B, and dropped by every morning to check in on Joe. In the evenings, he’d got roped into fishing with Chester and Rex.

“He was a terrible father,” Sam had said one night. “But as a grandfather… Joe could do worse.”

And now we were here on the eve of our wedding, the family together in our new house. Sam gave Paul a nudge.

“You all clear on your job for tomorrow?”

Paul huffed, but he smiled. “Walking the ring bearer down the aisle.”

“And?”

“Making sure he doesn’t chew on the ring.”

“Speaking of the ring bearer…” I got to my feet. “I’m going to check on him. Make sure he’s not scared.”

Sam got up as well. “All right. I’ll come with you.”

We walked through our new house hand in hand, the house we’d designed and had built together. It was a warm place, conceived with family in mind — a big, airy kitchen with a long dining table, the kind that would fold out to fit in more guests. A living room with big windows to let in the sun, and overstuffed couches for Joe to bump into.

We made our way up the stairs, quiet, tiptoe, muffling giggles when Sam’s shoe made a squeak. Joe’s door was ajar, faint light spilling out, and we crept up to look in as we did every night. Joe was sprawled on his belly with his legs sticking out, his red-socked feet thrust through the bars of his crib.

“Why does he sleep like that, with his feet sticking out?” Sam started forward, but I held him back.

“Don’t move him. You’ll wake him.”

“I’m not. I’m just…” Sam pulled his phone out and snapped a quick shot, then held the screen up for me to see. He took pictures of everything, whatever Joe did, and had glossy prints made for our family albums. We had Joe’s first step and his first bite of solid food, his eyes wide and startled, his tongue sticking out. We had him in the bath, bubbles up to his chin, and in the baby swing at the park. Now, we’d have him sleeping with his feet sticking out.

“I love you,” I said.

Sam frowned. “Me or him?”

“I meant you, but both of you. All this, our family.” I kissed Sam on his cheek. Joe stirred in his sleep. His little socked feet twitched, but he didn’t wake up.

“Dad’s right,” whispered Sam. “He’s pretty conked out. We should get out of here before we wake him.”

I lingered one more moment, smiling down at our son — taking in his pink face, his round, chubby cheeks. His shock of blond hair, so much like Sam’s. But he was growing up much more like I had, his bouncy chair set up in my shop. Most mornings, he’d be there, giggling through story hour, then Sam would come get him and take him to lunch. If it was a nice day, they’d go to the park or the beach. If it was raining, they’d go to Sam’s workshop. Joe had a playpen there, where he’d watch Sam work, and pretend to work with him, with his building blocks.

We crept back down the hall and back downstairs. Paul was in the kitchen, getting a snack. We waved to him as we passed him on our way back outside.

“Tomorrow,” said Sam, leading me to the beach. “I don’t think I can sleep tonight.”

I smiled. “Me either.”

“I feel like it’s my birthday and also Christmas. One more sleep left till I get my present.” He turned and kissed me, and took my hands in his. “It’ll be right here, the flower arch.”

I looked up, where right now was nothing but sky. Tomorrow, I’d look up and see swags of white roses.

“I made you some promises that day at my work.” Sam gripped my hands tighter, his blue eyes intense. “I swore I’d be here with you no matter what. That I’d spend my life proving you’re my everything. I want you to know, all that’s still true. I don’t see our wedding as our finish line. I see it as a start for us. For our life together.”

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