When I pull up to Miss Lucille’s curb, I give Penny a long smoldering kiss. “Call me to pick you up in the morning.” We exchange ‘I love you’s and, with my heart singing a Lady Gaga song, I drive away.
That evening, I meet up with Jude, Cannon and my dad. We sit down with whiskey in the conference room of Kingston Realty Holdings and I admit to my brothers that we don’t share the same biological father. Dad explains the situation to them, starting at the beginning.
I can see the initial shock in their eyes but they each make it clear that my paternity changes nothing between us. My younger brothers have every intention to continue giving me shit. As always.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Bert Peters has nothing on me anymore.
58
Penny
I’ve got boxes and garbage bags piled up on the back bench. There’s a suitcase crammed into the passenger’s seat beside me.
Kudos to my shitty hatchback for making it this far because I half-expected it to collapse under the weight of all my junk within 30 seconds of leaving Aunt Lucille’s house.
Early morning sun rays peek out from behind the clouds. Smiling, I guide the car along the private drive past the Kingston guesthouse and head toward Walker’s cabin. Our cabin now, I guess.
I know my overprotective man said he’d come pick me up but I’m holding onto my damn independence. Driving myself over here is not a big deal.
I’m just so excited to see Walker because there’s something very important I need to do with him today. I glance at the 17-page document poking out at the top of my handbag and my heart accelerates. Once Walker and I deal with the contract, there will be nothing else standing in the way of our little family.
As I approach the cabin, I lean forward to peer at the building through my windshield. “What the hell is going on here?” I mutter.
We finalized the remodel weeks ago. But for some reason, the construction crew is back this morning. Their trucks are parked haphazardly in the driveway. Some of the workers stand around in the yard, reviewing what appear to be architectural plans. Others are hauling stuff out the cabin’s front door and dumping them into a pickup truck trailer.
At this point, I don’t know what to think. I throw my car in ‘Park’, sling my purse over my shoulder and hobble across the lawn, tossing distracted greetings at the guys as I go.
I squint and try to make out the tiny wording on the nondescript cardboard boxes piled up on the porch.
Crib. Tiny mattress. Matching shelving. Tiny baby bathtub. All in teal blue, my favorite color.
What the hell?
When I step into the house, I find Walker standing inside the hallway closet—that closet I once suggested he turn into a guest bedroom—and he’s hauling junk out like his life depends on it.
“Hey,” I call out.
At the sight of me, he straightens up and wipes sweat from his forehead with his arm. And oh my gosh—how am I not yet immune to that simple action?
“Hey, beautiful.” His arm comes around my waist and he tugs me close for a mind-melting kiss. A few seconds of mouth-to-mouth action and I’ve nearly forgotten that I was just about to interrogate him.
“What’s going on here?” I ask.
My eyes dart to the end of the other hallway, right outside Walker’s bedroom door. There are baby-themed gift bags and boxes everywhere. All the stuff I received at the baby shower.
The man grins smugly. “Well, several months ago, my interior designer had a brilliant idea.”
I cock a brow. “Oh, did she? What idea was that?”
With a boyish grin he nods. “She suggested that I turn this closet into a guest bedroom.”
My curiosity slowly begins to build into anticipation. I think I know where he’s going with this.
Still smug as ever, he continues. “I brushed off the idea at the time but then, my domestic circumstances changed and now, I’d like to revisit that idea.” He waves his arm to gesture into the closet. “We’re gonna bust down the wall, extend the room a few feet, put in some windows. We’re gonna build that room into a nursery, Penn. For the twins. What’d’ya think?”
I slam both hands over my mouth to hold back my shocked sob.
“For heaven’s sake, Walker. You need to stop being so damned perfect.” I laugh through my tears. “You know these pregnancy hormones have me so emotional. You can’t have me out here bawling my eyes out every single day.”
He laughs and squeezes me tighter against his side. “You’re crying good tears, right?”
I turn to face him. I cup his scruffy face between my palms. “Yes, good tears. The best tears. I’m so happy, Walker. I’m so happy with you.” I glance around the room and in my mind’s eye, I imagine the completed nursery, bright and vibrant and full of love. It’s my dream come true. Only better. “When you hired me to decorate your house, I never realized I’d be decorating my home, our home.”
Walker chuckles. “We were both pretty clueless for a long damn time.”
Body shaking with laughter, I cling to him. “I know, right? But everything’s clear now. You’re it for me, Walker Kingston.” I take him by the wrist and pull him into the living room.
“What are you up to?” he asks as we stand in front of the waning flames in the fireplace.
I dig the paternity waiver document out of my purse and place it in his hand. With my chin, I gesture toward the fire. “I want to pretend this whole paternity contract thingy never happened,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I ever suggested it. I want us to raise our kids together.”
He bursts into the widest smile I’ve ever seen. He crumples the thing up into a ball and jubilantly
