Page 136 of Daddies' Holiday Toy

Her messy bun sags halfway off her head.

There’s a takeout box balanced in one hand, a drink tray in the other, and the smell of something warm and savory instantly wraps around me like a blanket.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” she says, nudging the door shut with her hip before kicking it closed for good measure.

Relief hits me harder than I expect.

My chest loosens in a way it hasn’t since the fight with my mom, and…theotherthing.

I set the tray I’d been fussing with down on the counter, wipe my hands on my apron, and cross the room in three long steps just to wrap my arms around her.

“You are an actual angel,” I murmur into her shoulder.

“I know,” she says, smug, setting the food and drinks down on the counter before fully returning the hug.

She squeezes me tight in the kind of bone-cracking hug that, on any other day, would have me squirming and swatting her away, laughing while I beg for mercy.

But today?

Today I need it.

I need the pressure, the solidity, the reminder that there is at least one person on this planet who has always been in my corner, no matter what.

I breathe her in, the faint scent of coffee clinging to her sweater, the citrus of her hand lotion, something faintly floral from her shampoo.

It’s grounding in a way nothing else has been today.

When I finally pull back, I do it reluctantly, swiping at the stray tears that have gathered along my lashes before they can smudge my makeup.

“Thanks for coming. I would’ve called you earlier to check in, but things got really busy.”

She waves a hand like it’s nothing, already climbing onto one of the stools behind the counter.

She pops open the takeout container, the steam carrying the smell of teriyaki chicken into the air, and digs out a plastic fork.

“You talk to the boys at all?”

I grimace before I can stop myself, the sound escaping me more like a groan. “No.”

Her brows lift a fraction, but she doesn’t press, just makes a soft, almost noncommittal grunt around her first bite of food.

I use the moment to busy myself, moving behind the counter to throw out the last of the stale cookies and lock the display case for the night.

The motions are muscle memory, my hands doing the work while my brain tries to stay a step ahead of her next question.

When I glance at her again, she’s already swallowed and is watching me closely, her fork hovering midair. “You keeping it?”

My stomach dips. I hesitate for a beat before I answer. “I still haven’t decided yet.”

She sets her fork down on the edge of the container and leans forward, her voice dropping.

“Holly…I’m just going to say it. Having a baby right now? That’s huge. It’s going to derail everything you’ve been doing. You just got your lease shit settled with the landlord,andyou’re finally making steady money again. Are you really ready to throw all that into chaos just to have a baby? Will the guys even step up to help?”

I’ve been telling myself the same thing on repeat all day like some kind of mantra.

Yet no matter how many times I recite the words, the same lines spilling out of her mouth, none of it washes away that desperate hope I still carry.

“I know you’re right. But…”