Page 110 of Knot Your Baby

One month later

“Are we ready?”

With a lift of his hand, Zane checks the time on his watch. “Everyone will be here soon.”

The morning light filters through the newly installed blinds, casting a warm glow over the polished countertops and freshly painted walls. I fidget with the ceremonial ribbon hanging across the entrance, my heart racing with nervousness as La Petite Rose is finally ready to open its doors.

“When will Miller get here?” I ask, turning to Zane. “He’s working today, isn’t he?”

He’s arranging pastries in the display case, his dark hair—no longer that shocking bleached blond—falling across his forehead. The pink apron tied around his waist should look ridiculous on someone with his build, but he wears it with such confidence that it seems like the most natural thing in the world. He’s finally comfortable in his skin, scars and all.

“No, he called off. Last I heard, he was picking up the champagne,” Zane says, carefully placing a row of eclairs. “He’ll be here.”

I nod, trying to calm my nerves. We’ve worked on this for two months now, and my nerves are hitting hard. “There’s still so much to do. The raspberry macarons aren’t arranged properly, and I think the chocolatine needs to be moved to the—”

“Freya,” Zane interrupts, coming around the counter to stand in front of me. He places his hands on my shoulders, his touch grounding me. “Everything is perfect. The shop is perfect. You’re perfect.”

I take a deep breath, leaning into his touch. “I know. I just want everything to be right.”

“It is,” he assures me, then grins mischievously. “Plus, if anything goes wrong, we can always blame it on your terrible management skills.”

I gasp, slapping his chest playfully. “Excuse me? My management skills are impeccable. And you can’t talk to your boss like that.”

He laughs. “Are you going to sack me again?”

“That was one time!” I protest, but I’m laughing now, the tension easing from my shoulders.

“It was last week.”

I chuckle harder now. “You told me you could knead.”

“You’re a control freak, Freya,” he says, but there is no malice in his tone. In fact, there is only pure joy.

The bell above the door chimes, and we turn to see Thorne enter with Stone in his arms, our baby has grown so much. He’s going to be as broad and tall as his father someday, no doubt.

Something shifts inside me at the sight—a yearning, a longing.

Zane must notice, because he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. “We should have more babies,” he murmurs.

My heart skips. “How many?”

“How many can you give us?” His eyes are warm, filled with love and hope.

“Is ten too many?” I ask with a grin.

A rich sound erupts from him as he lets out a hearty laugh. “We may need some twins in that number.” His expression softens. “Sorry, I forgot you were a twin. Do you think about Freddie often?”

The mention of my brother sends a pang through my chest. “I do. I miss him every single day,” I admit quietly. “A part of me died when he did. I didn’t know if I would survive.” I look up at Zane, seeing the understanding in his eyes. “But I did. We did. You’re the same.”

Zane nods, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “We’re survivors, you and I.”

The moment is broken by the sound of multiple footsteps and laughter. The door bursts open again, and Harlow strides in, followed by her pack mates—Carver, Asher, Oliver, and Parker, and their son, Jagger.

“The party has arrived!” Harlow announces, holding up a large cake box. “And I come bearing gifts!”

I raise an eyebrow. “You brought a cake...to a bakery opening.”

“Not just any cake,” Harlow says proudly, setting it on the counter. “My cake. I’ve been practicing.”

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