Chelsea squealed and turned to her brother. “You guys are going to be such awesome parents. I can’t wait to see Baby Hunt.”
Daniel wrapped an arm around her. “We were hoping you’d agree to be the godmother. I know not many people do that anymore, but we want you to be a big part of our kids’ lives.”
“Of course,” she answered then froze. “‘Kids’?”
Erin beamed. “Twins.”
Chelsea jerked her attention back to her brother. “Two babies? I’m going to need something stronger than wine.”
Erin laughed and nodded. “I know, it’s a shock. Believe me. We were stunned, but we knew we wanted a large family and I guess we’re just getting a jump start. I’d been having some pain and they just did an ultrasound to make sure things looked okay. Apparently the pain is my uterus stretching faster than normal.”
Two babies? Chelsea couldn’t even imagine being a mother to one, let alone two. But Erin and Daniel were beaming and Chelsea couldn’t be happier for them.
Tears pricked her eyes. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Well, damn. Don’t cry.” Daniel picked up her wineglass. “I can’t handle tears.”
“I’m happy,” Chelsea insisted. “Really. I’m just overwhelmed and excited and I can’t even imagine how you guys feel.”
“All of that and more,” Erin assured her. “I’ve gotten used to the ups and downs of my emotions lately, but I know you’re still taking it all in. Dinner should be ready. What do you say we go eat and discuss baby registries and nursery décor?”
“Maybe I should eat in the kitchen,” Daniel groaned.
Chelsea smacked his chest. “You’re eating with us, and we’re goin
g to have a nice family dinner. And we need to figure out which room to put the nursery in, and colors, and names. We need names.”
Daniel groaned as he turned and headed toward the kitchen where his chef had no doubt prepared something fabulous. “We have a long time still to go,” he growled as he walked away. “Why do I have a feeling my credit card is going to take a hard hit?”
Chelsea smiled as she looped her arm through Erin’s. “Because it is.”
* * *
He’d told her to be at his place at seven, yet it was now nearing eight and there was no sign of Chelsea. No call, no text. Absolutely nothing.
Gabe didn’t like to be kept waiting, especially by the woman warming his bed.
The doorman buzzed him, letting him know Chelsea was on her way up. Had something happened that had prevented her from getting in touch to tell him she’d be late? Had she been delayed by some jerk harassing her again when she was out?
Everything in him stirred, churning toward anger. He wanted to shield her from all the flack she was taking. Even beyond that, he wanted to be her...what? They only had a few more days left together before their agreed-upon date to end things. And she’d never given any indication she wanted more.
Why the hell was he now choosing to think of something beyond sex? He’d done that once. His partner had been killed because Gabe had trusted the wrong woman. He’d let her into his personal life, thinking she loved him, only to find out she had actually been playing him all along to feed information to the drug cartel Gabe had been working to bring down.
He’d been such a damn fool.
But Chelsea was different. She’d dodged him and he’d continued to chase her. Gabe always got what he wanted, but now he wasn’t so sure what that was. He knew for certain he didn’t want things to end, yet at the same time he wasn’t looking for a relationship.
Maybe all these wedding plans and seating charts and dress fittings were getting to him. He was just surrounded by the prospect of “forever” and “I do” and clearly getting caught up in the moment.
And most troubling was how he’d whispered his need to her the other night. He’d slipped and whispered how much he needed her, how much he cared for her. Not once but twice. Those words bordered on a confession he certainly wasn’t ready to make now...if ever.
Here a quiet knock on his door, Gabe turned from the view of downtown and glanced toward the entryway. Chelsea let herself in, but the moment he spotted her, Gabe was crossing the room in long strides.
“What happened?” he asked, gripping her arms and studying her tear-streaked face. “Are you hurt?”
She smiled and shook her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “These are happy tears.”
Happy tears? That always sounded like an oxymoron to him, just one more thing he would never understand.