Page 48 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

That seems a little more plausible than Coin giving me a car out of the goodness of his own heart.

“So, we’re lying to your brothers about what I’m using the car for?” I ask. “I mean, I do want to search for jobs, so I guess that isn’t entirely untrue.”

“We are absolutely lying to my brothers. If they knew I wanted to spend time with you, they would freak out, and it’s none of their business.”

Technically, if I’m driving Coin’s car, it is his business. But that’s okay. Quin is inviting me to his home. He’s even letting me see Chime. So I’m not going to complain or ask too many questions.

“Coin should stop by with the car in an hour or so,” Quin says. “He’ll be a total asshole. Sorry. If it’s any consolation, he’s an asshole to everyone except Chime.”

“You forget that I just got out of prison. I’m used to assholes.”

He laughs. God, I love that laugh. He’s so full of sunshine, he warms my heart, even over the phone.

“I guess I’ll see you at six, then. I’m looking forward to it.”

My heart races. Quin is looking forward to seeing me. That has to be a good sign, doesn’t it? A niggling doubt in the back of my mind reminds me that there must be a reason why Quin is letting me see our daughter, but I push it out of my mind.

Jake would never go behind my back and tell Quin what really happened.

“I’m looking forward to it too,” I say.

In just a few hours, I get to see Quin again.

23

SLADE

Two hours later Stew stands in front of the lopsided cake I tried to make myself.

“It’s… homemade,” he says. “That’s something.”

“Quin is a professional baker. I don’t think homemade is enough.”

Stew winces. “Right. Why is the icing melty?”

“I don’t know. I did everything the recipe said. The cake kept coming off in chunks when I was icing it, so I just dumped it all the top. I thought that would fix it.”

He walks around the counter, eyeing the cake skeptically. “You didn’t ice it while it was hot, did you?”

“Yeah. Right out of the oven. I wanted it to be fresh.”

He sighs. “That’ll do it.”

Damn it. I’m already fucking everything up, and I haven’t even gotten there yet. To make matters worse, I’m wearing a T-shirt that’s way too small. It looks like a muscle shirt or something. Apparently, Stew and I are not the same size.

The doorbell rings.

“That’s probably the decals for the nursery,” Stew says. “We’ve got this honeybee theme going on. Gender neutral, so we can use the same decorations with the next kid. Do you want to help me put them up later?” He walks toward the front door and opens it. Instead of a box, there’s a tall, skinny omega standing on the porch. He’s wearing eyeliner, black clothing from head-to-toe, and Doc Marten boots with a thick sole.

“Is Slade here?” he asks.

Stew opens the door wider. “Come on in. He’s baking a cake. Or he’s trying to bake a cake.”

Coin steps inside. The moment he sees me, he gets this hardened look in his eyes. It’s different than Silver’s careful skepticism or the overt hostility Link showed me in high school, but it’s clear Coin doesn’t like me.

He pulls out a set of keys from his front pocket. “Come outside. I’ll show you your ride for the next few weeks.”

“His ride?” Stew says.

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