by Cat Carmine
Of course, Logan was unable to leave things as is. He’d insisted on having a bunch of renovations done before we could move in. The result of which was that we’d only been able to move in a week before my due date. I hadn’t even been able to finish getting the nursery done. Poor Leo was going to be sleeping in a bright purple room that the previous owner had used as her beading room. He had a crib and a change table, but not much else. I felt horribly guilty about the whole thing, but Logan assured me it would be fine. He’d never steered me wrong before, so I’d trust him on this one, too. Leo has a mom and a dad who already think the sun rises and sets on his perfect little head, so he’s already quite a few steps ahead of many kids out there.
Logan helps me out of the car, and then we carefully wrestle Leo out. This time, it only takes us half as long as it took to get him in. See? We’re already rocking this parenting thing.
“Home sweet home,” Logan says, as we enter the kitchen. I still have to do a double-take every time I walk in to this place. Everything gleams. Logan had chosen all the most high-end fixtures and finishes, so even though it was sort of the same kitchen as it was when we bought it, it had been elevated into something out of a showroom. I have yet to inform him that I’m not exactly the world’s greatest cook and that the six-burner gas range with double ovens is completely wasted on me.
“What are you smiling about?” he asks, glancing at me as he drops his keys on the island.
“Nothing. Just happy to be here. With you.”
“Oh yeah? Me, too.” He wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me to him gently. His touch is everything I could ever want — warm and firm and soft at once. I rest against his chest, just feeling it rise and fall beneath my cheek.
After a couple of minutes, Leo starts to squawk, and I pull away, lifting the carrier and setting him on the island so I can unbuckle him. As soon as I lift him out and hold him against me, he quiets.
“Shall we show him his new bedroom?” Logan asks.
“You mean the Purple Palace?” I frown. But Logan’s eyes just twinkle. What is he up to now?
I follow him upstairs and down the hall to Leo’s room. As soon as we reach the entrance, I immediately start to cry. Not just a little bit, but big gulping sobs. Because it’s beautiful. So beautiful. Everything I could have wanted for our son.
“You did all this?”
“Well, some of it,” he admits. “Some of it I paid other people to do. Is it okay?”
“It’s beyond okay. It’s perfect.” The hardwood floors gleam, but a plush white rug covers most of the floor space. The crib we’d picked out together is standing proudly at one end of the room, but Logan’s also added a cozy-looking rocking chair, a handsome changing table, and a massive nine-drawer bureau that might be big enough to hold all the baby clothes we’ve accumulated in the last six months. The walls are painted a gradated blue that starts off pale near the floor and gradually darkens to an inky navy at the top. The ceiling is painted the same deep blue.
It’s the ceiling I look up at now, craning my neck. “Are those stars?” I ask Logan. The entire surface is covered with an intricate pattern of white dots, some smaller, some larger, just like in a real sky. There’s even a hazy cluster of them that looks like a far-off galaxy.
“Yeah, but not just any stars. Look.” Logan crosses the room to close the light-blocking blinds that cover the window, and then he hits the light switch. The room darkens. When I look up, I see a grouping of stars lit up, right over the crib.
“What’s that?”
“That’s the constellation Leo.” He points out the stars, the nine heavenly bodies that represent the lion. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
I look down at Leo’s face, tiny and squished but contented, too. “I think he’ll love it.”
Then Logan takes us both into his arms. Together, the three of us are our own perfect constellation. In the darkness, under the painted stars, we shine. We shine like diamonds.
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Wondering what happens when Lucy decides to let her former crush move into her spare bedroom? Find out in my next release, The Break-Up Bet!
Also By Cat Carmine
The Whittaker Brothers:
Bigshot Boss: Trent’s Story
Filthy Fiance: Jace’s Story
Red Hot Rival: Luke’s Story
Breaking All The Rules:
The Deal Breaker: Rori’s Story
The Rule Breaker: Emma’s Story
The Heartbreaker: Blake’s Story
Mailing List Exclusive: Hurricane Charlie
About the Author
Cat Carmine is a romance writer, a wine drinker, a cake eater, a dog lover and a country dweller. She loves — and writes — stories about very bad men and the feisty women who tame them.
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