Page 3 of Birthday Kisses

And no one else.

“Okay,” I say as I approach him, plucking the spatula out of his hand before I hand Willow over to him. “Thanks.”

He chuckles as I walk away and I hear him talk to our daughter.

“What’s gotten into Mommy today, huh?”

I’ll tell you whathasn’tgotten into Mommy lately.

That would be Daddy.

2

CREW

Three days until Wren’s birthday

My wife has beenin a mood lately.

I get a thrill out of calling Wren that. My wife. I probably sound like a possessive asshole, but I can’t help it. The day I made her mine and gave her my last name, I wanted to shout to anyone who would pay attention that she belonged to me. That giant diamond always glittering on her finger proves it.

God, I love her. I love her when she’s happy or sad. I love her when she’s pushing an eight-pound baby out of her body with all of her might. I especially loved her that night, the pride that filled me while she remained calm and strong. So strong. I was worried about her too—it’s fucking stressful, watching the person you love more than life itself go into labor. It was a lot. I thought I had to be there for her, but it was like she didn’t even need me. She had her shit that much together.

I was in awe of her. I still am.

Now we’ve got this adorable little human being in our lives and I can’t get enough of our daughter. We spend a lot of time at home, the three of us. And while I know Wren loves our apartment—she fell in love with the place on sight after Aunt Gertrude died and for whatever reason left it to us—I also think Wren is restless.

She wants todosomething.

I just don’t know what.

When I’m not at home, I’m in the office. I work for my brothers’ real estate company, and while they’re selling flashy homes in new buildings with every modern convenience, I’m the one who’s selling brownstones on the Upper West Side. Many of them in my own neighborhood. Both Grant and Finn think I’m ridiculous for focusing on the old stuff, so they leave it all up to me.

And I’m making a shit ton of money in commissions, thanks to those brownstones being in high demand. Not that I need it. The Lancaster wealth is vast and feels never-ending, but I could never just not work. I’d get bored.

I’m at work right now, sitting in my office when my brother Grant strolls in like he owns the place—he does—settling into the chair directly across from where I’m sitting with a shrewd gleam in his gaze.

“What do you want?”

Grant’s brows lift. “Is that how you want to greet your oldest brother?”

“You want something from me. I can tell.” I lean back in my chair, contemplating him. “It’s three days before Christmas, Grant. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“You’d rather be at home with the wifey and baby, I get it. That’s why I’m here. Alyssa and I got to talking last night and she made me realize something.” He clears his throat and sits up straighter, like he might be uncomfortable. “We’d like to give your wife a birthday present.”

I frown at him. “Okay.”

“A special one.”

“That’s…great.” I have no idea what he’s trying to say.

“You’re going to benefit from it too.”

“Amazing.”

Grant lets out an exasperated growl. “I’m trying to offer our services to you both, Crew.”

“Services?” I’m more confused than ever.

---