Page 112 of Secondhand Smoke

He propped a shoulder in the doorframe. “You shoulda had one of the girls do this.”

“Nah. They’re all hungover, and I can do it better myself anyway.” She was whisking the eggs together and turned to him. “Oh, speaking of the girls, apparently Jazz and Carter are a thing now. Did you know that was going on?”

“I didn’t know for sure, but I’m not surprised.” He twitched inwardly, not wanting to dwell on Carter or Jazz or that night in the dorm two months ago.

“Does Tango know?”

“Tango’s…a little out of it lately,” he said with a sigh.

Maggie nodded, her frown knowing. “Hmm.”

Remembering his errand, he pushed off the doorjamb and went to the coffee pot.

“How’s Sam this morning?” Maggie asked, all innocence.

A hot bursting of emotion in his chest, just under his ribs; he envisioned it as golden, full of sparks. “She’s good.”

“Baby,” she said as he was leaving.

He paused.

“I like her.”

The heat doubled, pressing at his heart in the best way.

“And you need to tell her about the baby.”

“I know. I will.”

“Soon, Aidan.”

“I know.”

~*~

They were gathered in the chapel by ten, armed with plenty of coffee and cigarettes, the air thick with the scents of both. It took longer to fit all of them in a seat than it did to go over the morning’s plan.

Aidan had already asked Sam to wait for him, spend a few hours hanging out with the girls; he’d tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but she’d detected it, smooth gold brows drawing together. “I want you to be safe,” he finally said, and she hadn’t argued, had hugged him and said she wanted him to be safe too.

She loved him. She loved him and she wanted him safe.

He thought he might float cartoon-style.

As he left the clubhouse, he spotted her having breakfast with Emmie at one of the bar tables. She tossed him a smile and a wave.

He felt so domestic.

It was a cold, drizzly morning, their breath pluming in the damp air. Aidan zipped his cut and caught up to Tango as they headed for the bikes. He bumped the guy in the ribs with an elbow. “You alright?”

Tango walked with his head down, long hank of pale hair flapping against his forehead. “Yeah.”

“Jazz and Carter, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“Dude, if you have a problem with it–”

“I don’t.”

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