“You!” Bec pointed a finger at Jordan, who’d answered the door. It was just after the New Year and we’d been planning a take out and movie night. “You need to shoo. And you”—she turned that finger to me—“need to be sitting on the couch, getting ready to be pampered.”

Seraphina stood behind her, arms laden with bags. “Move it, princess,” she said, nudging Bec to the side. “You were so worried about your manicure that you couldn’t carry the bags, the least you could do is move that big ole butt of yours out of the way.”

Bec made to smack her then stopped, flashing me her freshly painted nails. “Gel manicure,” she stage-whispered. ”I just didn’t want to carry the bags.”

Seraphina gasped in outrage. “You—”

“Ladies,” Jordan interrupted firmly. “What’s going on?” His gaze flicked to the doorway again. “Cecilia? Is everything okay?”

She nodded, glancing around uncomfortably. “Hunter’s fine. Umm. Bec wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Heather’s with Hunter for a few hours,” Seraphina said. “Auntie time.” She shooed him toward the hall. “Which means that you are going to go see a movie or go to the mall or something.”

“What am I going to do at the mall?”

Seraphina rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t care. What I do care about is sneaking in a few hours of Abby time without you tagging along.”

“Hey, that’s—”

“We like you, God of Thunder,” Bec said, “but you’re cramping our style.”

“I-uh—” Jordan turned to me and I tried not to smile. I knew my friends, knew they could railroad just about anyone, let alone someone with a soft heart like Jordan. All things considered, I was rather enjoying the show.

“Don’t look at me,” I said. “I love spending time with you.”

Bec made a barfing sound. “Gross.”

Jordan shook his head, crossed to the couch—Bec had pushed me down onto the cushions and covered my lap with a blanket. He kissed me, long and slow and deep, leaving me a breathless lump before he pulled away. “I’m coming back in two hours.”

I nodded, maybe dumbly, definitely dazed as he climbed the stairs to our bedroom.

“Damn,” Seraphina said, setting the stacks of bags on the coffee table. “I think I came just watching that. What happened to Hair-Trigger Hammer?”

I snorted. “Apparently he was just out of practice.”

“I’d take some of that out of practice.”

We all froze and stared at Cecilia, whose cheeks were bright pink.

“I—uh—” she stammered.

“Told you you’d love her,” Bec said to Seraphina, nudging her with her elbow.

“Shh,” Seraphina said. “You’re being rude.”

“Both of you are being ridiculous,” I said and patted the couch. “Sit over here, Cecilia. I think I smell chocolate.”

“We have dark chocolate,” Bec said, dropping to her knees to begin unpacking bags. “It’s good for the baby.”

“And for us,” Seraphina said, pulling out a pair of pajamas from a bag and tossing them at Cecilia. “These are for you.”

Cecilia’s eyes bugged out when she saw the tag. “These—I can’t! They’re too expensive.”

“Girl,” Bec said. “Your innuendo now means that we’re forever friends and as such, you will accept all gifts of chocolate and ridiculously expensive pajamas forevermore.”

I snorted.

“You must have really low standards for friendship,” Cecilia muttered.

Then promptly clamped a hand over her mouth.

Seraphina and Bec glanced at each other then at me, bursting into laughter. “Well, that much is obvious,” Bec said.

“Hey!” I laughed.

“Oh, my God.” Cecilia closed her eyes. “I did not just say that.”

“You did.” Bec grinned. “Which just proves our friendship standards. We live by three rules: be snarky, make every conversation dirty, and wear extremely pricey but excessively cozy pajamas.”

“Now go,” Seraphina said. “Bathroom is the third door on the left.”

I rolled my eyes at the idea of my best friend giving directions in my house—Cecilia had been over enough times by now to know every nook and cranny—and caught the pair that Seraphina tossed me.

“Maternity edition,” she said, brushing her hand over the little bump that was my baby. “Go change.”

“I’ll help,” Jordan quipped, waggling his eyebrows at me as he came back into the room. He’d changed into jeans and put on a jacket.

“I bet you would,” Bec cackled. “But we don’t have seconds to spare.”

Jordan’s gaze met mine and he shook his head. Still, his eyes were amused. “Your friends are something else.”

I grinned. “I know.”

Bec took Jordan’s arm and led him to the door to the garage. There she patted his cheeks—the upper then the lower—and shoved him out. “You’ll do, Thor. You’ll just do,” she said as it slammed closed.

Clicking the lock, she turned back toward us. “Okay. I need chocolate and a movie that will make me cry. STAT.”

Two Weeks Later

“Can we go? Can we go?” Hunter asked, little butt wiggling in his bed. “I’m ready to go home.”

Hunter was being discharged today. Finally.

Well, the finally was all him. I personally thought that the stay was too short, that he should be monitored and under watch just to make sure everything was going okay. He had a new heart and so many things could go wrong and—

“Abby!”

I blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“Is it time to go?”

“We just need to wait for the doctor to put in the discharge instructions and we’re out of here, bud,” Jordan said, gathering up the last of Hunter’s things and putting them into a clear plastic bag. “I’ll run these to the car. You two good?”

Hunter sighed. “I want to go home.”

“I know, honey,” I said, signaling to Jordan that we were fine. “Unfortunately, these things sometimes just take time.”

He scowled. “Where’s CeCe?”

“At home, getting everything all ready for you.”

Another sigh, but he turned back to the robot, tinkering again, adding more details, tweaking the programing—not that he would call it that. The Hunter robot was just learning a new trick. But I could see why it was the perfect toy for real life Hunter.

Something that would keep him semi-stationary.

It was hard to tell he’d even had a transplant just a not even two months before. I’d never really realized how sick he was, how pale-gray and weak, until compared to this version of Hunter.

Healthy and pink-skinned.

“I want to come with you and Jordan,” he said.

“Soon,” I told him.

We needed to be within a half hour of the hospital and its transplant center for a few more months. Then Hunter would move into my—to our—house.

“But we’ll visit every day,” I said. “And Jordan will be there and—”

“Yeah.”

I frowned. “What’s going on, honey?”

“I—” Pale blue eyes filled with tears. “Are you going to leave, too?”

My heart clenched, but I forced my voice to stay calm. “No, honey. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“Okay,” he said, but the word wasn’t confident.

I wished there was something I could say that would make him believe that I was going to be around for the long haul, that I loved him too much already to possibly think about leaving and never coming back.

But I knew from personal experience it wasn’t that easy.

Once a child’s trust was truly broken . . . well, some things couldn’t be repaired.

There were always cracks, valleys that never quite healed.

“Did you know my mom left too?” I asked, brushing back his hair.

His eyes flew up to mine, surprised.

“I was sad for a long time,” I said. “But eventually I realized she hadn’t left because of me.”

Hunter’s gaze fell to the bed. “If I hadn’t gotten sick . . .”

I wrapped my arms tightly around him and said the only thing I could. “It’s not your fault.”

He shuddered, sniffed, and I held on.

“Sometimes things in life really suck. Sometimes things aren’t fair. Sometimes people are mean.” I pressed a kiss to his head. “But that’s the time to hold on to people who are nice, who love you, and who see you for the awesome, wonderful eight-year-old you are.”

Hunter’s little arms wrapped around my waist. “I do have a robot named after me.”

I smiled, feeling tears well in my eyes. “That you do.”

My stomach fluttered and I gasped, pressing my hand to it.

“What?” Hunter asked, pulling back.

“It’s nothing,” I said, trying to memorize the feeling. It was the baby moving. I knew it. I felt that in the depths of my soul. And the tears that had been welling escaped from the corners of my eyes.

“Abby?”

“I’m fine,” I said, dashing them away. I cried at cleaning commercials lately, so it wasn’t a surprise that feeling my baby for the first time made me teary. But I didn’t want to make Hunter worry.

“Is it the baby?”

My jaw dropped open. We hadn’t mentioned one word about the pregnancy, not wanting to add another layer of stress to the already stressful situation for Hunter. He’d been through so much that I didn’t want him to think Jordan would drop him for a new baby.

But apparently, we hadn’t been so good at hiding the fact that I was pregnant.

“The baby is fine,” I quickly assured him when I saw the worried look on his face. “I just felt him or her move for the first time.”

“Maybe it was my voice,” Hunter said with a grin. “I bet he likes me already.”

“That’s a guarantee,” I said, head spinning a bit with the speed of Hunter’s conversational U-turns. “What makes you think the baby will be a boy?”

He lifted his chin. “I know.”

“Okay,” I said and stood. “Should I go see if we can hurry this process up a bit?”

“Yes!”

“Oh. Hunter?” I paused in the doorway. “How did you know about the baby?”

He gave me a look that was way too mature for someone his age. “I’m eight, Abby. I know things.” A pause. “I hope Uncle Jordan marries you.”

My breath caught as Hunter began tinkering with the robot again and I left the room thinking the child was right.

He knew things . . . way too many things.

I made a vow right then and there that he would know less of the adult—less hospitals, less family drama, less pain, and fear. I made a vow to let him get dirty, to help him make friends his age, to play football with him in the backyard, to break windows with foul balls, and stink up the laundry room with his shoes.

I made a vow to love that little boy like my own.