Page 141 of Romancing His Heart
I have so many questions, but we’re interrupted by a happy squeal.
“Uncle Ashton.”
Turning, I see Seth’s daughter, Sadie, charging us full speed.
“Fuck,” Ash mutters under his breath.
Sadie runs and catapults herself into Ashton’s arms. He’s still not steady on his feet and hides under layers of clothes, even in the heat, but this sassy little six-year-old girl doesn’t see any of that.
“Hi, Uncle Loki,” she says from her perch in his arms. “See how good Uncle Ash is at catching me?”
“He is pretty good,” I agree.
“You know why I love his booboo so much?” she asks so innocently, but both Ashton and I cringe.From the mouths of babes.
“Ah, why?”
“My mommy had booboos on her insides, and we couldn’t kiss them better. Uncle Ash’s are right here. I can kiss them better all day.” I watch in shock as she leans in and plants a messy kiss right to his cheek.
He’s stiff in his posture, but he doesn’t pull her away. If anything, holding Sadie is the first time I’ve seen the light in his eyes since before his injury.
My phone beeps, and I look down. “The girls are on their way,” I tell him.
“Guess you guys had better get into position then.”
“Nah, I’m gonna stay right here with you, Uncle Ash.”
I look from Sadie to Ashton and smile. No one can say no to that little girl.
“Great,” he grumbles, but it lacks conviction. The Westbrooks are a family of huggers, and right now, what he needs is that tiny embrace, so I leave them and head to my spot.
* * *
Sloane
“Well, it’s not mono,”Eli says sarcastically.
Gripping the sides of the sink, I stare down in disbelief.
“How did this happen?”
“Well, Sloane, when two people fall in love, the man sticks his penis in the woman’s vagina and—”
“Shut up, you smart ass. I know how babies are made, but how did this baby get made?”
Staring around the room, I realize not everyone knew, and I feel like an ass.
“Ah, so, Preston had a vasectomy after he found out about his heart defect.” Every head in the room turns to look at Emory. “He didn’t want to take a chance of passing on the gene, so we used donor sperm.”
The room erupts in a chorus of “Oh, my God” and “Congratulations, Emory.”
My sister is going to have a baby of her own, and I couldn’t be happier.
“It, ah, I didn’t want to tell everyone today,” she says uncomfortably, “but Sloane found the test in the bathroom and insisted I take it.”
“True story.” I grin. “I’m going to be an auntie.”
All the girls crowd around Emory and give her all the love and attention she deserves. My phone buzzes, and I reach for it.
