Page 52 of The Sweetest Chirp

I scoff at that. “Because a two-year-old needs a Dior robe.”

“If she didn’t, they wouldn’t make it in her size.”

There is no arguing with my sister. “Smitten, I see.”

“Totally,” she answers, pressing a kiss to Arwen’s temple. “She’s perfect.”

“She is,” I agree, my voice soft and a little rough. My daughter is a stunning little creature, her hair all in her eyes, a rubber band where a pigtail used to be. She has something sticky on her lips, but even with whatever sugar she ate, she is knocked out. It has been a big day. “Did she have a bath?”

“Yeah. I helped Audrina do it, and then we came down forBluey. But Audrina wanted a shower while Arwen was distracted.”

“Cool. I’ll take her up.”

Ingrid nods, letting her go, and I gather Arwen against my chest. She mumbles and whines a bit, but she settles, cuddling deep into me. I move a piece of hair out of her face and fall even more in love with her. Her little mouth is parted, her arm hanging limp, and I want to do nothing but hold her.

Before I can take a step, though, William is beside me, rubbing her arm, and then Dad is on the other side, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Easy to say, my baby has everyone obsessed with her.

“Will she come to the next game?” William asks, and I shrug. Dad and William have a suite in the IceCats arena. It’s a massiveone that is fully dedicated to me. Photos of me growing up and playing hockey. My Team USA Junior and Olympic medals even hang in the suite. While my parents come to every game, they also donate seats to different charities all over town.

“I haven’t asked her yet.”

“I ordered her a jersey,” Dad says, and my lips curve.

“Thanks, Dad. Let me go get her to bed. It’s been a long day.”

I don’t tell them that I haven’t been able to tuck her in yet and I really want to. I don’t know why that excites me, but it does. As I head toward the stairs, I walk past my bag, but I flash my mom and Anya a look.

“I’m putting my daughter to bed. I’ll still be ignoring you both tomorrow.”

Mom glares. “We are your mothers. We deserve answers.”

“Things are complicated. Let us figure it out.”

“That girl needs her mommy and daddy,” Anya persists, and I nod.

“And she’ll have us.”

That pleases them, but I don’t care. I roll my eyes as I walk up the stairs, trying not to jostle Arwen too much as I hit the landing. The hallway that leads to my room, and now Audrina’s and Arwen’s, is decorated how the suite is. Full of hockey memories through my mom’s eyes. I pass by my room and head right for the one Arwen will be in. The bedroom is rather large, with a white four-poster bed on a pedestal in the middle of the space. The Bluey plush I got her is propped up on the pillows. The bed is a king-size, with a huge headboard featuring baby angels flying around carved into the wood. It also has brand-new pink bedding that I know my mom just fixed up. I saw the packaging in the garage as I came in. A white dresser is along the wall across from her bed, and by the empty boxes on top of it, I’m sure it’s now full of all of Arwen’s clothes.

Mom and Anya were busy.

I roll my eyes. Those women… As great of moms as they are, they’re terrible gossips and fucking dramatic. God, I love them. A small smile pulls at my lips as I take Arwen to her bed. I pull back the bedding, laying her in the middle, before I cover her and place the little Bluey plush in her hands. She clutches it before rolling over to her side and sighing deeply. My heart clenches in my chest. I pull the blankets up to her chin and then rub her back.

Wow, that felt so damn good.

I glance over to where I hear the shower running.

Then I notice the door to the bathroom is cracked.

I have no reason to go in there other than for my own desires.

That wouldn’t go over well with Audrina.

I lean in, kissing Arwen’s head, and then position pillows around her to make a barrier for her. I know Audrina will come in here later, but I don’t want an accident to happen in the meantime. I could stay here until she gets here, but I’ll die for sure if she comes out in nothing but a towel. I walk toward the French doors that lead to the balcony to make sure they’re locked. Not only are they locked, but someone moved a large chair in front of them.

I head to the door, hearing the shower still running. But that’s not all I hear.

I hear a buzzing.

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