Page 40 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

"Having a long overdue conversation with the father of my grandchild," Margot says, rising to her feet. "Since you haven't seen fit to introduce us yourself."

Wren's cheeks flush pink. "I was going to. When the time was right."

"And when would that be? After I received a birth announcement?" Her mother's tone is sharp, but I catch the hurt beneath it. "I had to learn about my only daughter's pregnancy from Janine's girl at the Tribune, of all people."

"I'm sorry," Wren says, and I can tell she means it. "I should have told you sooner. I just... needed to figure things out first."

"And have you? Figured things out?"

Wren's eyes find mine across the room, and the look in them makes my chest feel too tight.

"Yeah," she says softly. "I think I have."

There's so much in those four words, in the way she's looking at me, that I have to grip the edge of my desk to stay seated.

Margot glances between us, her shrewd gaze clearly noting the shift in energy.

"I see," she says, though her tone has softened marginally.

"Well, in that case, perhaps you'd both join me for dinner this weekend.

I'd like to get to know the man who's apparently going to be a permanent fixture in your life. "

Wren looks as surprised by the invitation as I feel.

"We'd love to," I say before she can respond. "Sunday work for you?"

"Sunday is fine." Margot picks up her purse from where she'd set it beside the chair. "Wren knows where I live. Seven o'clock."

She moves to leave but pauses at the door. "And Kasen? If you hurt my daughter, I’ll make your life a living nightmare."

She delivers the threat with her chin held high, and it takes me a second to process the words. By the time I do, she's already sweeping out of my office.

"Well," I say after a moment. "That went better than expected."

Wren shakes her head, still looking stunned. "She invited you to dinner, and she threatened your life. I don't know which I should worry about more."

"Probably the dinner invitation," I say, standing and crossing to her. "The nightmare thing isn’t really a threat because I’ll do everything I can not to hurt you."

A small laugh escapes her. "Fair. But still." She looks up at me. "What did you say to her? Because when she called me this morning, she was still referring to you as 'that beer man who got you into this mess'."

I shrug, pulling her closer. "Just the truth."

"Which is?"

"That I love you," I say, giving into my need to touch her by tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear. "That I'm all in on you. That I respect what you've built too much to ever try to take it from you."

Her eyes soften, and she leans into my touch. "And she bought that?"

"I think she's reserving judgment. But the dinner invitation is probably a good sign."

Wren sighs, resting her forehead against my chest. "I'm sorry I didn't tell her sooner. I was... scared, I guess. Of her disappointment. Of having to explain how I ended up pregnant and married to the guy I spent years complaining about."

"Hey." I tip her chin up, making her look at me. "No apologies needed. Family's complicated."

Normally, I’d give her shit for admitting she talked about me for years, but this time I let it go. For now.

"Speaking of family," she says, glancing toward the brewery floor. "Why is Banks here with Noble? And why does Lake look like he's seen a ghost?"

I laugh. "They came by to hang out, then your mom showed up and everyone scattered like cockroaches when the light came on."

She grins, and there's that smile I can never get enough of. "Cowards."

"Can't really blame them. Your mom is terrifying."

"She grows on you," Wren assures me. "Like a fungus."

I notice her shift her weight uncomfortably. "Everything okay?"

"Just tired," she says, her hand going to her belly. "It was a long day."

"C’mere.” I sit and pull her down on my lap, reaching down to rub one of her calves.

She groans as her head falls onto my shoulder. "Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. I got a call from Miller on my way over here."

I tense, but then pick back up with my massage. "What did he want?"

"To set up a meeting. With both of us." She pulls out her phone, reading from the screen. "'To discuss a mutually beneficial resolution to our current situation.' Whatever that means."

"It means he's planning something," I say, already thinking through scenarios. "The coalition must be hurting him more than we thought."

"Or he's found a new angle," Wren counters. "Either way, I told him we'd meet. Tomorrow, at Cascade."

I nod slowly. "On our turf. Smart."

"I thought so." She looks up at me, her expression serious. "We need to be prepared for whatever he throws at us."

"We will be." I pull her closer and wrap myself around her as much as I can in this position. "We've got each other's backs, remember?"

"Yeah." I feel her smile against my neck. "We do."

After a few more minutes alone, we head out to rejoin the others, finding them clustered around one of the brewing tanks. Noble's happily tucked in Banks's arms again, drooling on his dad's shoulder.

"Did you survive the inquisition?" Reed asks, looking between us.

"Barely," I say. "But we've been summoned to dinner on Sunday, so the execution's been postponed."

"Meeting the parents," Lake whistles. "That’s a big step."

"We're having a baby together," Wren points out dryly. "I think we’re there."

Everyone laughs, and the tension from earlier dissipates.

We spend the next hour catching up, sharing beers (non-alcoholic for Wren, which she wrinkles her nose at but drinks anyway), and enjoying the company of our friends.

Watching Wren with Noble, the way her face softens when he grabs her finger, makes my chest ache in the best possible way.

By the time everyone heads out, it's after sunset. After I check out with my evening bar staff, Wren and I head home in comfortable silence, her hand resting on my thigh as I drive.

"So," she says as we pull into the driveway. "After all that excitement, what do you think about working on the nursery tonight? I need something normal and productive to do."

"Yeah, if you’re up for it, I’m game."

When we get inside, she changes into comfortable clothes, which are more my stuff than hers. We head to the room we've designated for the nursery, which still looks more like a storage space than a baby's room.

"We should decide on a theme," Wren says, surveying the boxes we need to clear out. "Something that isn't aggressively babyish."

"What, you don't want pastel blue everywhere?" I say, already starting to move boxes.

She wrinkles her nose. "God no. I was thinking something more... I don't know. Mountain-y? Outdoorsy? To go with the whole Portland vibe."

"That could work," I agree. "Pine trees, mountains, maybe some wildlife that isn't too cutesy. Foxes or something."

"Exactly!" She looks surprised and happy that I'm on the same page. "Like the label you designed for Dawn Breaker."

This may be the first thing we’ve agreed on when it comes to the baby. I pause, a box half-lifted in my arms. "You want the nursery to match the beer label?"

"Is that weird?" She suddenly looks uncertain. "I just thought... it's meaningful. It represents both of us. The trees for you, the stars for me."

The weight of what she's saying settles into my bones. I set down the box and cross to her.

"That’s…" I say against her hair as I pull her against me. My throat’s tight as hell and I swallow a couple of times before I can finish my thought. "No, it's not weird. It's... us."

She relaxes against me, her arms sliding around my waist. "Good. Because I may have already ordered some stuff online."

I laugh, the sound rumbling through both of us. "Of course you did."

"I'm efficient." She pulls back, smiling up at me. "And I figured if I waited for us to agree on anything, this kid would be in college before his room was decorated."

Shit, at this point he might be in college before we name him, too.

"Fair point." I brush her hair out of her eyes, staring down at her just because I can. "I can build some mountain-shaped shelves that’d look good in here.”

"You can?" Her eyes light up, and goddamn, I would do anything to keep that look on her face.

"I'll draw up some designs later." I drop a quick kiss on her lips. "First, let's clear this place out."

We work side by side for the next couple hours, moving boxes to the basement, sorting through old stuff, making space for our son. Wren's playlist fills the room—a mix of indie rock and 90s classics that has her singing under her breath when she thinks I'm not listening.

As I watch her arranging things, dancing around the room despite her belly and singing off-key to some Pearl Jam song, I know this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

"Hey," I call out, grabbing a paintbrush from one of the bags. "Since we're doing this mountain thing, what if we painted an actual mountain scene on that wall?"

She turns, her hair messy from moving furniture, a smudge of dust on her cheek. "You can paint?"

"Badly," I admit. "But I can try."

Her smile starts slow, then spreads across her face. Fuck, that one right there would be the best one in my collection. "Yes, do it.”

We spend the next hour arguing about the mountain range I'm trying to paint—too pointy here, not enough trees there—but it's the best kind of arguing. The kind that ends with paint on both our faces and sore abs from laughing so much.

When we finally call it quits, the nursery still looks like a disaster zone, but it's starting to come together.

"Not bad for your first try," Wren says, surveying my questionable mountain artwork.

"Shut up," I say, but I'm grinning. "Next week, I'll start on the shelves."

She leans into my side, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders automatically. "This is nice," she murmurs against my chest.

"Yeah," I agree, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "It is."