Ryland

“Hey, guess what? I just got a text from Linc. He and the kids are going to stop in the Cove on their way to Georgia.”

Sitting at her elegant little white desk on the other side of the room, Abby swiveled to face me, pleasure filling her pretty face. “Oh, are they? That’s great news! I can’t wait to see Becca and Oliver again—and Lincoln, too, of course.”

Abby and I had stopped in Texas after a quick trip to California earlier in the year. Lincoln had been there visiting his two kids who lived with their grandparents, so we’d gotten to see the whole family. It was while we were there that Linc and I had finalized the details of our new, expanded venture, which was why he was moving to a small town in Georgia, which would be the second base of operations for our restoration company.

“It’ll be good for Linc to have a fresh start,” I mused now, gazing out the window onto the new section of gardens that we’d just finished here at the Riverside. “Burton is the perfect place for that, and this project—well, he’s going to love it.” I thought about the old plantation about an hour outside of Savannah with a small twinge of envy. It was the kind of job I would have loved to have gotten my hands on once upon a time. Hell, who was I kidding? I’d still love it. But I wouldn’t love having to be away from my wife for the months required to restore the place.

And as far as tradeoffs went, I had the best of all worlds right here with my sweet Abby.

“How old are Linc’s kids now?” Abby inquired, interrupting my thoughts. “Becca’s got to be twelve, right? And Ollie’s nine? Ten?”

“Yeah, somewhere around there.” Keeping track of my friend’s kids’ ages wasn’t my strong point.

“You know, I told Linc I’d help him furnish the new house up in Burton. I have the kids’ rooms just about set up—or the people I contracted with will have them done, rather—but I was thinking that we’d supply their kitchen as a housewarming gift from us to them. What do you say?”

“I think that’s very generous, and Linc will love it—once he gets over protesting that it’s too much.” I tucked my phone in my pocket and reached for the door of the fridge to grab a beer. “Do you want a glass of wine, babe? It’s just after five, so you should be off the clock.”

“I will be in just a moment.” She sounded distracted. “And no thanks on the wine. But if you’d get me a sparkling water with lemon, I’ll love you forever.”

“I thought you already did love me forever.” I filled a glass with ice and added the fizzy water before I squeezed a lemon over it and stirred. “What are you working on over there, anyway?”

“I’m ordering the last few items for Becca’s bedroom,” she answered, her fingers clicking the laptop keys. “And I’m also looking at a few options for furnishing . . . a nursery.”

“A nursery?” I frowned. “Sweetheart, I know you’re hoping that Linc will find someone to love up there in Burton, but don’t you think adding a nursery to his new house is pushing things a little?”

She turned in her chair to face me again, crossing her arms over her chest. “The nursery isn’t for Lincoln, Ryland. It’s for us.” She lowered one hand to press against her middle. “Our baby will need a room of her own. Or his own. And I can’t wait to design the perfect setting.”

My ears began to ring, and I felt a little dizzy. “Um . . . what did you say? Baby? Whose baby?”

Grinning big, Abby stood up and crossed the room to me, her eyes twinkling. “Ryland Kent, you’re going to be a daddy.”

I dropped onto the wing chair behind me. “I am?”

“You are.” Abby perched on the arm of my seat. “In about thirty-four weeks, give or take. That should give you a little time to get used to the idea—and for us to find a new place to live, too.” She glanced around our small suite, the place where we’d begun our marriage. “I love our little home, but it’s probably not conducive to raising a baby—one who will likely cry a fair bit and disturb the guests.”

“Uh-huh. Babies cry.” I grabbed Abby’s hand. “Are you sure about this, Abby? You’re really—” I pointed at her belly. “You’re pregnant?”

“Three tests and quick trip to the doctor confirm it.” My wife’s face glowed. “Are you happy, Ry? I know we’d talked about having kids in general terms, but we never really put a timeline on anything. I hope you’re not—”

“We’re having a baby!” I jumped to my feet and then leaned down to swoop Abby into my arms. “Holy fuck, sweetheart—we’re going to be parents. We’re going to have—when will we know if it’s a girl or a boy?”

She laughed, twining her arms around my neck. “A couple of months yet. It’s still a little peanut at this stage.”

“Our little peanut.” Almost reverently, I set Abby back on her feet, dropping to my knees as I pressed my cheek to her flat stomach. “Hello, peanut. I’m your daddy, and I love you already.” Reaching for Abby’s hand, and I linked our fingers. “Almost as much as I love your mommy, who is my whole world.”

I felt Abby’s fingers brush over my hair. “Ry . . . I’m so happy. I love you so much.”

“Me, too,” I murmured, my arms around her hips. “Me, too.”