Page 3

CHAPTER

THREE

MAX

T he music is on point. Beer pong and video games are bringing people together, and the subs were a hit.

Most of the team showed up. Beckett and Elena are absent, which is totally understandable since they’ve got a baby now.

Gunner and Penny are no-shows too, but that’s because our goalie is grumpy and antisocial.

It's not a valid excuse, but with his size, I’m not about to argue.

Jaden tosses the Ping-Pong ball, and it lands with a satisfying splash in the red Solo cup. He throws his hands in the air like he just scored the game-winning goal.

Cade glares at him and knocks back the beer with a grimace. “How many is this?” He shakes the empty cup, his speech already edging toward slurred. “We said we were stopping at ten cups. I don’t wanna feel like crap tomorrow.”

“Babe.” His wife, Iris—who’s also his beer pong partner—loops her arm through his. “It’s your turn.”

His eyes, a little unfocused, land on her face. “How many turns have we had? We made rules, remember?”

“I don’t know,” she says, all casual. “But we’re not there yet.”

“Definitely not,” Jaden agrees, totally full of shit.

“I think we’ve only had, like, four turns,” Logan lies smoothly.

Cade nods, appeased. “Okay. Just making sure.”

I laugh and leave the beer-pong crew to their drunken chaos as I make my way to the living room to check on everyone else.

Bash and his wife, Ari, are in the corner of the couch, making out like it’s prom night. I grab a tortilla chip from the snack table and toss it at the back of Bash’s head. “Yo,” I call out, grinning. “This isn’t a high school party.”

Bash doesn’t even break the kiss. He just flips me off, his middle finger held high while keeping his mouth on his wife.

I plop down in the recliner, sinking deep into the cushions as Miles, Finn, and Eddy battle it out in a multiplayer shooter game.

Trash talk flies as fast as the bullets on screen, but I’m only half paying attention.

The beer is definitely hitting me, and exhaustion’s creeping in.

Honestly, I’d be perfectly happy crashing right now, but since I’m the host, I’ve gotta power through.

Jaden’s smiling across the room. Maybe it’s just the booze, but I like to think he’s finally letting go of some of that pent-up pining over Anna and her radio silence. Life’s a hell of a lot better when everyone’s happy.

The doorbell rings, pulling me out of my fog. I glance around the room, counting heads. Everyone who’s supposed to be here is here. Weird.

Pushing myself off the couch, I make my way toward the foyer. Maybe Gunner changed his mind and decided to show up. Unlikely—but not impossible.

I swing open the door and freeze.

“Monique?” I say, both because I’m surprised to see her and because I’m only about 90 percent sure I have her name right.

“Hey, Max.” She gives me a tight, uneasy smile. Not sad exactly… maybe nervous?

Okay. Got the name right.

I stare at her, trying to piece together our time together. If memory serves, we had a fun few weeks—about a year ago—heavy on the sex and Vampire Diaries marathons. She was obsessed with that show. And then she was gone.

But then I notice it—the baby carrier at her feet. And multiple duffel bags on the porch beside it.

My stomach dips. “Monique, what’s going on?”

She beams. “I met someone. Like the one. His name’s Jon. We’re moving to Paris. Can you believe it?”

“Uh… good for you?” I answer slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I’m not sure why, but I look over my shoulder to my friends enjoying the party and then back to Monique while trying to gain my bearings.

A pit in my stomach warns me of something, but I’m not sure what.

Everything feels off. Monique’s presence here on my front doorstep is all sorts of wrong.

She keeps going. “He doesn’t want kids. And honestly… neither do I.”

My pulse spikes. My body goes ice cold, but my heart’s pounding loud in my ears.

She grabs the carrier and lifts it like it’s show-and-tell. “This is Care Bear.”

“Care Bear?” I glance inside at the baby. A tiny baby dressed in pink blinks up at me with big blue eyes.

Monique chuckles awkwardly. “Well, her name’s Caroline Elena. But remember how Care Bear was Caroline’s nickname on Vampire Diaries ?”

“Monique,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, “I barely remember anything about that show. What are you doing here?”

She shifts her weight and raises the carrier a little higher. “Her name is Caroline Elena Park.”

I blink. “Park?” My throat goes dry. “Why does she have my last name?”

She tilts her head. “Why do you think?”

“Wait. What?” The words are jumbled in my mouth. “You’re telling me… Care Bear… Caroline… this baby… is mine ? She’s my daughter?”

The world tilts. I grab the doorframe to keep from losing my balance.

“Yes,” Monique says, her voice soft. “She’s yours.”

What is going on right now?

“You’re sure?” My voice cracks.

“I’m sure.”

I step out onto the porch, shutting the door behind me to muffle the party noise. Monique follows me to the bench, setting the baby carrier down between us. My hands are shaking.

“What’s happening here?” I ask quietly. “You said you don’t want to be a mom.”

She nods almost cheerfully. “Right. Care Bear is the sweetest. She’s an easy baby.

But I always knew motherhood wasn’t for me.

I had an amazing couple all lined up to adopt her and everything.

But after she was born, I thought I could do it.

I backed out of the adoption because I was flooded with hormones, and she was so cute, so I thought, Yeah, maybe.

But time passed, and… I realized I can’t.

I thought about calling the original adoptive family back, but then I figured I owed it to you to at least tell you first. I mean, she’s basically your twin. ”

I stare down at the baby. She’s got dark hair like mine. Big blue eyes that are wide open, watching everything. Something heavy and warm settles in my chest—something I can’t even name.

“How old is she?” I manage.

“Four months. She can sit up on her own and roll over. She’s super smart. And she’s got the cutest laugh.” Her tone softens.

“You’re… leaving her with me?” It doesn’t feel real.

“That’s the plan,” she says brightly.

“Monique, I don’t know the first thing about being a dad.” I run my hand through my hair, struggling to catch up. “I—” My voice falters as I look back at the baby. “I’m not ready.”

She pats my knee. “No one’s ready. You’ll figure it out. First-time parents always do.”

I close my eyes for a second, then open them again. “You’re dropping her off. Just like that.”

“I know it’s a lot.” She exhales. “Jon and I leave in the morning. I brought everything you’ll need—diapers, clothes, bottles, formula.

There’s a folder with her birth certificate and medical records—your name’s on them.

Jon made sure we had custody paperwork drawn up, just in case.

We tied up all the legal stuff. But it’s your call.

I included info on the adoptive parents if you want to reach out to them. ”

My mouth feels like sandpaper. “Monique, she’s your daughter.”

“She’s ours,” she corrects gently. “And I know this is the best thing for her. I wrote her a letter—for when she’s older—explaining everything.

I included a flash drive with all the pictures and videos I’ve taken since she was born.

I wrote down anything I thought would be helpful, like medical history and a few stories about her first four months.

If she wants to find me one day, she can. But this is what I want.”

I nod, not sure what else there is to say.

“Would you like to hold her?” Monique asks.

Panic stirs in my gut, but I agree anyway. She unbuckles the straps, lifts Caroline, and carefully places her in my arms.

I freeze.

Her tiny body feels weightless and heavy at the same time. She blinks up at me like I’m something worth looking at, and when I shift, her small hand curls around my finger. Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, and I’m finding it hard to breathe. I pull in a jagged breath.

“She likes you,” Monique says softly, watching me with something close to relief.

I clear my throat. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“She will.” Monique adjusts the strap on her purse and steps back, giving me space. “You’re going to be great, Max.”

I’m not convinced, but I’m not about to argue. Not with her standing there like she’s about to disappear forever. I don’t want her to leave.

“When’s your flight?” I ask, glancing up.

“I have to be at the airport in a few hours,” she answers. “I have to finish packing.”

There’s a long pause. Caroline’s fingers tighten around mine, and I swear my heart does something it’s never done before.

“Take care of her,” Monique says, her voice catching for the first time.

“I will,” I say quietly.

I stare at her. “If you change your mind?—”

“I won’t.” She cuts me off. “But thank you.”

“Well, if you do, you know where to find me.”

“I appreciate it.”

We wait in silence for a few beats. My mind is still reeling from the information over the past few minutes, trying to make sense of it all.

She leans over and kisses the baby’s head. “Love you, Baby Bear. You’re going to have a great life.”

She brushes her hands on her jeans. “I’ve thought about this for a long time, Max. On paper, those adoptive parents are perfect. But in my gut… I knew she belonged with you.” She gives me a small wave, then turns and leaves.

Just like that.

I watch her go, the weight of everything hitting me like a freight train.

My eyes drift back to the baby—my daughter. Caroline Elena Park.

“Hi, baby girl,” I whisper, my voice cracking as emotion swells in my chest. “Nice to meet you. I’m your daddy.”

The words break something open inside me, and tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them. On instinct, I pull her close, holding her against my chest, gently rocking us back and forth. I press a kiss to the top of her head. Her fine, dark hair is impossibly soft beneath my lips.

Looking down at her again, I exhale a shaky breath. “We’ll figure this out,” I murmur. “No problem.”

Inside, the muffled sounds of the party carry on, laughter and music spilling through the closed door. I let out a dry chuckle. “Definitely not how I thought tonight would go.”

She blinks up at me, her long lashes brushing against her cheeks. I can’t help but smile. “Gosh, you’re adorable. Aren’t you?”

I never thought I was a baby person, but there’s something special about this one. She’s still holding on to my finger like she’s trusting me with her whole world.

I guess she is.

And somehow… I know she’s already mine.