Page 75 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

There’s a message from Daire waiting. It’s a response to the one I sent telling him I was going out with Bertie.

Daire: Text me when you’re on your way home.

Home.

How strange is it that my home is withDaire, of all people?

Me: I will. I’m probably going to head out in a bit.

He replies with a photo attachment right away.

Daire: What’s your opinion—do I need one of these?

The picture is of some sort of baby carrier that he could strapto his chest.

Me: Absolutely.

Daire: Adding it to my cart.

Me: What else do you have in there for Junior?

He sends me a screenshot of the items, ranging from the carrier to a play mat to a set of hockey-themed onesies. I can’t help but smile. This whole situation has to be mildly terrifying for him—how could it not be?—but he’s stepping up to the plate and seems genuinely excited about it.

Baby Sammy is lucky to have him.

Me: All excellent choices.

A reply doesn’t come right away, so I set my phone to the side and spear a bite of the Caesar salad I ordered and have barely touched.

Luke and Bertie are still on the dance floor. For a moment, I can’t help but watch them. Thankfully, she seems to have relaxed a little. Luke is holding her gently, careful to keep his hand in a respectable place above her hips.

Luke Covey is a gentleman—who knew? A little zap of envy hits me, because once again, I wish I could find a man who’d treat me with so much care. But mostly, I’m giddy for my best friend.

I polish off half of my salad and most of my side of fries before flagging down the waitress for a to-go box. My leftovers will make for a good lunch tomorrow.

My phone vibrates on the table.

Daire: You think so?

Me: Most definitely.

It’s cute, the way he wants my opinion.

Me: I was thinking—we should take a baby CPR class.

Daire: Fuck. I never thought about that, but you’re right.

Me: I’ll find the website again and look at dates.

Daire: Thanks.

It’s weird, how easily we’ve become a team. What’s stranger is how much Idon’thate him anymore. Not that I’m telling him that.

Bertie is still on the dance floor, but I’m ready to head home, so I catch her eye, finding it impossible not to smile at the way she’s glowing. Bertie deserves to find some happiness—even if it’s the temporary, sexy kind of happiness.

“I’m gonna head out. You good?” I mouth.

She nods, throwing me a thumbs-up.

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