Bad Habits Box Set

by Staci Hart

  The bundle in the circle of my arms was solid and warm, so small, so delicate. The only motion the blanket allowed was the small swivel of her tiny face.

  “Shh,” I said, nervously adjusting her.

  But then she just clicked into my arms, her head in the bend of my elbow and her bottom in my palm, my other arm wrapped protectively around her, her head resting in the curve of my hand. She fit perfectly, the length of her body exactly the length of my arms and hands.

  She was mine. My baby.

  “Hello,” I said softly.

  At the sound of my voice, her crying died, her mouth closing and lips together, thin and dainty, the bow at the top exaggerated and prominent. Her eyes, which had been clamped shut, blinked open with aching slowness. Her irises, which were deep and dark, nearly filled her heavy lids. For a moment, she stared at me, her pupils unmoving, her body still and quiet. And the two of us were caught in a stretch of frozen time as we regarded each other.

  She broke the connection with a yawn that stretched her round face out long, her eyes pinching close again. They didn’t open again, her lids soft and relaxed, and she drew in a breath and let out the most delicate sigh.

  My heart, I realized, was in my hands, in every eyelash and every strand of hair on her head. With every breath in and out of her miniature lungs, I understood that she was a part of me and separate from me. And, with profound clarity, I understood the depths and lengths I would go to to make her happy, to love her, to keep her safe.

  And then I felt Rose’s eyes and looked up to meet them for a long moment of connection. It had always been her. It would always be her. Us. Three of us. Our universe had expanded to include another, and my purpose had focused down to my love for them.

  “Come on,” I said to my daughter. “Let’s go see your mama.”

  14

  Cheers To That

  Rose

  A cry tore out of Stella when the cold wipe in Patrick’s hand met her bottom.

  “Shh,” Patrick soothed. “I know it’s cold. I’ll be fast.”

  She didn’t seem to believe him. So he took to humming “Blackbird” by The Beatles.

  Within three seconds, she was quiet, her eyes sleepily blinking open.

  My insides liquefied. He lifted her bottom with a tug of her ankles, moving the dirty diaper as I slipped a new one in its place. He went to work fastening it, and I tore open a little alcohol wipe to clean off her belly button, which ended her peace with an angry squeal.

  “Way to go, Mama,” Patrick said with a smirk in my direction.

  I couldn’t hide my slight pout. “I think she likes you better.”

  “Let’s reassess when she’s hungry,” he answered as he pulled her nightgown down to cover up her pedaling feet.

  I watched him pick her up and rest her against his chest, her little bottom in one of his big, tattooed hands, his other splayed across her back, fingers cupping the back of her head. He bounced gently. She stopped crying almost immediately.

  I couldn’t even be mad. Not with the sight of him with our baby, humming softly in the late morning sunshine.

  Before yesterday, I couldn’t imagine any of it, not really, not beyond a fantasy or daydream. But now, it was so natural, I couldn’t remember a single moment of my life that wasn’t this, the joining of two people to create a third. I didn’t know what it was like to only care for myself. I had been his before I was hers. But I was both of theirs—always.

  I’d been made to love them.

  I turned for the hospital bed, brushing my tears away before he could see.

  “Knock, knock!” Lily’s voice sounded from the doorway, and behind her were a parade of balloons and smiling faces.

  A comforting hum of greetings and laughter and congratulations filled the room, filled my lungs and heart as they all filed in. Hazel held a bouquet of balloons that trailed behind her as she ran in.

  “Wosie! I bwought bawoons!” She thrust them in my direction, and I laughed, taking them from her.

  “Wow, Hazel, you’re pretty strong. I can’t believe you didn’t float away.”

  She giggled and blushed.

  Lily reached over her, Jackson on her hip, to pull me into an awkward hug that was everything I needed. “Hey, babe. You look so good.” She leaned back to look at me and cup my cheek. “How’s Stella?”

  “She’s with her favorite parent,” I joked.

  Patrick made a face. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of West at Patrick’s side, peering into the baby’s sleeping face. He brushed a finger across her dark hair, his eyes alight, and when he looked up at Patrick, they shared a look that was beyond what my female sensibilities could understand.

  Maggie appeared at Lily’s side with a bouquet of peonies and greenery as Andrew wound himself around her legs with Hazel on his heels. His curly blond hair caught the sunlight, and he made a track around Maggie’s swollen belly as he edged away from Hazel, who was talking a thousand miles a minute about ponies and how he was going to buy her one.

  Maggie laughed and rested her hand on Andrew’s golden crown. “Congratulations, Rosie. I’m just so happy for you two,” she beamed.

  Cooper materialized behind her, smirking and holding up a flat pink cardboard box. “Brought ya something.”

  My salivary glands exploded in my mouth. “Cupcakes or donuts?”

  “Cupcakes,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Like we’d cheap out on you.”

  I put my hands up in surrender. “Hey, at this point, I’d be happy with anything that wasn’t pudding and cafeteria food. I’m not picky.”

  A laugh rumbled through the room, and as it died, everyone gravitated toward Patrick and Stella.

  He bounced her, turning sideways to display her to the crowd. “Meet Stella, everybody.”

  Hazel clutched West’s shirt as she angled up on her tiptoes to see. He picked her up, bringing her closer.

  “Oh, Daddy, she’s so tiny, just wike Jack-Jack.” Her face lit up with joy. “Can I howd him? I wove babies!” She cooed at him, aahing and oohing.

  “You can hold her when they get home and settled in.”

  “Pwomise, Daddy? Pwomise!”

  He chuckled and kissed her hair. “I promise.”

  “Who wants to hold her?” Patrick asked.

  Lily pouted. “My hands are full. Maggie, you go first.”

  Maggie’s face softened. Pregnancy looked good on her; she was practically glowing. “Oh, well, twist my arm.” She stepped up to Patrick and took her with the ease and grace that I’d learned only parents had. When Stella was firmly cradled in her arms, Maggie whispered to her, taking her little hand in her fingers to unball her fist and press her thumb to the tiny palm.

  I caught a whiff of the cupcakes, the sugary carb-loaded sweetness taunting and enticing. Craning my neck for a view of the box, I said, “So … cupcakes?”

  Coop laughed and flipped open the box. “I thought we could make a toast. I wanted to bring you whiskey, but Maggie said no.”

  Maggie gave him a look coupled with an amused shake of her head.

  Cooper set the box on the rolling bed tray and flipped the lid. “Rosie, you get dibs.”

  I couldn’t even handle that choice. I needed all of them in my mouth immediately. “Is this one strawberry cake?” Dopamine spiked as I pointed at one with chocolate icing, sprinkled with Fruity Pebbles.

  “Yup.”

  I’d snagged it the second his mouth formed the affirmative and began unpeeling the paper.

  “Come on, guys. You’d better get one before she inhales this and we lose the chance.”

  Everyone picked out their cupcakes, including Hazel and Andrew, who stuffed the tops in their mouths without hesitation. And we raised our pastries in unison.

  Lily smiled. “To babies and beginnings.”

  West chimed in, “To friendships and fumbling through life together.”

  Maggie held hers up. “To always having you all to count on.”

  Cooper
added, “And to sharing all the moments that matter.”

  Patrick met my eyes. “To love and happiness.”

  And with tears in my eyes and joy in my heart, I said, “May we live happily ever after.”

  Also by Staci Hart

  CONTEMPORARY STANDALONES

  Bad Habits

  With a Twist (Bad Habits 1)

  A ballerina living out her fantasies about her high school crush realizes real love is right in front of her in this slow-burn friends-to-lovers romantic comedy.

  Chaser (Bad Habits 2)

  He’d trade his entire fortune for a real chance with his best friend’s little sister.

  Last Call (Bad Habits 3)

  All he’s ever wanted was a second chance, but she’ll resist him at every turn, no matter how much she misses him.

  The Austen’s

  Wasted Words (Inspired by Emma)

  She’s just an adorkable, matchmaking book nerd who could never have a shot with her gorgeous best friend and roommate.

  A Thousand Letters (Inspired by Persuasion)

  Fate brings them together after seven years for a second chance they never thought they’d have in this lyrical story about love, loss, and moving on.

  A Little Too Late (Follow up to A Thousand Letters)

  A story of finding love when all seems lost and finding home when you’re far away from everything you’ve known.

  Living Out Loud (Inspired by Sense & Sensibility)

  Annie wants to live while she can, as fully as she can, not knowing how deeply her heart could break.

  The Tonic Series

  Tonic (Book 1)

  The reality show she’s filming in his tattoo parlor is the last thing he wants, but if he can have her, he’ll be satisfied in this enemies-to-lovers-comedy.

  Bad Penny (Book 2)

  She knows she’s boy crazy, which is why she follows strict rules, but this hot nerd will do his best to convince her to break every single one.

  The Hardcore Serials

  Hardcore: Complete Collection

  A parkour thief gets herself into trouble when she falls for the man who forces her to choose between right and wrong.

  HEARTS AND ARROWS

  Greek mythology meets Gossip Girl in a contemporary paranormal series where love is the ultimate game and Aphrodite never loses.

  Paper Fools (Book 1)

  Shift (Book 2)

  What the Heart Wants (Novella 2.5)

  From Darkness (Book 3)

  Fool’s Gold (Novella 3.5)

  SHORT STORIES

  Once

  Desperate Measures

  Nailed

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  About the Author

  Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom to three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, even though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey, and her favorite word starts with f, ends with k.

  From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north in Denver, until they grew a wild hair and moved to Holland. It’s the perfect place to overdose on cheese and ride bicycles, especially along the canals, and especially in summertime. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, gaming, or designing graphics.

  www.stacihartnovels.com

  staci@stacihartnovels.com