Alexei scowled and untied the ribbon on the package. “It is from Jonah,” he clarified for my benefit. “Wingman, I am not in the mood for this.”
Saint’s stare didn’t falter.
He nudged Alexei until he unwrapped the gift, revealing a crystal tumbler that looked a lot like the one that lived in my kitchen.
“He got you a matching vodka glass?”
Alexei narrowed his gaze, a sigh escaping. “No, he sent me back to the start.”
I had no idea what that meant, and he didn’t explain. He set the glass aside in the same moment something flared in whatever realm Saint occupied.
He surged upright, wrenching his gaze to my phone, dark and abandoned on the bedside table.
It buzzed.
Alexei snatched it up, sending the glass clattering to the floor, his face illuminated by the message on the screen, his expression faltering to expose a fear I’d never seen. “Get dressed. Your sister needs you.”
28
ORLA
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AGO...
Viktor’s brother was everything I expected.
Tall. Clever. Charming.
“Told you he was hot.” Juana claimed the seat beside me. “He didn’t have the beard when I last saw him, but I like it.”
“You’ve been around bikers too long.”
She didn’t deny it. Just winked and arranged herself so she could observe Jakov slotting into our family as easily as Viktor had.
The kids were all over him. He didn’t seem to mind, which gave him points with the dads. Despite inviting him, Saint ignored him, but he was done peopling and ignoring everyone, so I didn’t put much stake in that. And then I got so hot and bothered in the crowded room I stopped caring.
I excused myself, fanning my face, and waddled to the living room.
The couch called my name—big mistake. Once I was down, it was going to take a crane hoist to get me up. But I didn’t care. I loved this couch. The leather was cool against my heated skin and the cushions were already imprinted with my ever-expanding arse.
I let it suck me in, rubbing my belly. I’d eaten too much and my babies, though smaller than the doctors wanted, were running out of space. I felt their elbows in my goddamn ears and the constant fake contractions were getting on my nerves.
A strong one hit. I breathed through it, praying I didn’t need to roll myself to the bathroom again, grateful Cam had built a downstairs WC while he’d been on sick leave. I had my doubts he’d healed his PTSD with his one-man construction crusade, but he’d definitely made my life easier.
Ever my shadow, River ducked out of the kitchen and poured himself into an armchair, phone clutched in his hand instead of stuffed in a discarded pair of jeans and forgotten about.
“Who’ve you been grinning at all day?”
“Tam.” River held up his phone. “He’s getting married too.”
Like Folk and Decoy, but the photo on the screen was too far away for me to make out.
I beckoned River closer.
He huffed but got up anyway and snagged a bottle of lemon Fanta for me. Left to go flat and warm, it was the best and most disgusting thing ever, and I was shamelessly addicted.
“Show me this photo.”
River rolled his eyes but held up the phone again while I took an unhealthy swig of pure sugar and studied the image on the screen. Tam Dubois. I remembered him. Gorgeous, French, and the only good decision my little brother had ever made until he’d come home to live his happy ending with Rubi. “Remind me again why you stopped hooking up?”