Two weeks. I had two freaking weeks to plan Ryan’s birthday, and so far, all I had was a half recollection that Marc’s grandmother made cakes and a location for the party. I wanted to make this huge for him, not just because he was feeling awful about hitting the big four-oh, but because from what I could piece together, no one had ever done anything special for him like a full-blown birthday party. That was just not acceptable.

I shot Marc a quick text asking if he could bring me info about his grandma’s cakes—if it was even her who made them—just as there was a knock on the door. Ryan and Bella were both at their schools for the day, and Ethan was doing some communing with the waters crap with Kai, leaving me the sole door opener.

I sighed, wondering which of the thousand things that had been ordered online for the babies was about to be delivered. Much to my surprise, it wasn’t a person dressed in brown holding a plethora of boxes, it was Mrs. St. John.

She’d more than made up for the way she had treated Ethan when she kneed Milton in the balls. Not that I could ever stay mad at her for pushing him out the door and into my home where he belonged, even if she did it in a way that still had me cringing. She had meant well—in her own weird way—and that was something that could never have been said about my parents.

“Mrs. St. John. Come in.” I held the door open wide, but she just stood there.

“You can call me Mom, you know. Or at least Amelia.” She wagged her finger. “We’re practically family.”

“I will keep that in mind.” I stood aside, but she stayed put. “What brings you here today?” I finally asked, when I realized things weren’t going to progress.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it; it was probably Marc. He was one of those kids who thought not texting back in five seconds was rude. The guy probably slept with his phone.

“Ethan told me he was doing some water thing with his doula, so I thought it would be a good time to stop by.” She pointed at something beside her before stepping inside. I found a huge bucket, filled to the brim with art supplies.

“What is all that?”

“My supplies, of course. Be a dear and carry them to the nursery for me.” She marched to the nursery, not looking back to see if I had any intention of following her.

“Okay?” I picked up the heavy bucket and followed her.

“Thanks.” She pointed to a spot in the center of the room, in front of one of the cribs.

That was the entirety of our nursery supplies to date, and a real cause of stress for my guys. They both wanted the nursery done a full two months from the due date to make sure it was ready. I knew from Josiah that even if the nursery was beyond ready in time, those two little bundles would be sleeping in our room for at least the first month anyway, so I had been willing to wait until they decided exactly what they wanted. Which they had, as would be evident within the week as all the boxes arrived.

“That bucket is heavy.” She grabbed a folder out of it.

“Now you tell me?” I’d still not figured out how Mrs. St. John—or Mom, as she now wanted to be called—clicked. I guessed most of that was her artsy nature. I found artists of all varieties, including tattoo, had their own quirks.

“Well—” She tapped her folder. “I’m here for two reasons, really; one of them planned and the other was a pleasant surprise.”

“Let’s go with the surprise.” Because the last time she surprised me, it was with an eye full of boob while she got me tea.

She opened up the folder and pulled out a printed article from the internet, dated today. Local Car Salesman Arrested for Statutory Rape, with Milton’s unmistakable mug right below it. I read the article slowly.

“No way.” I wanted to fucking dance. “You?” I asked. She’d mentioned something about statutory rape at Bella’s recital, but I’d assumed she was only being a pissed off mama bear. Maybe I underestimated her.

“No.” She shook her head. “Milton was right. I was bluffing like no one’s business. Although, it was a pretty damn good guess from the looks of it. He was too old for Ethan ten years ago and to find another omega—just no.”

Daniel, I realized. Fucking Daniel to the rescue. Not only had he saved Ethan from going through a huge court battle and living on pins and needles, but he managed to save others from the clutches of Milton. A smug grin of satisfaction settled on my lips.

“It was you!” she exclaimed with glee.

“What?” I feigned confusion, but her eyes told me she wasn’t buying it. Fuck.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She wrapped her arms around me, and in that second, I believed her words. Any concern she would share her conjecture with anyone fell by the wayside. “You really love my boy, don’t you.” She was telling not asking.

“I love them both,” I answered as she pulled away. “Now stop with this mushy stuff and get to why you are here.”

I was ready to move on from the conversation so I could see if Daniel wanted to share anything with me or not. I owed him big time. At least the grill was already on its way, making me feel like I had at least started to pay him back.

“This.” She whipped out a paper and held it in front of me, my brain taking a moment to catch up. I’d been so lost in my thoughts I’d almost forgotten what question she’d been answering.

“A picture of the ocean?” I asked. It was a tranquil ocean filled with fish and mermaids and shit, but it still didn’t quite make sense to me. Of course, my brain had been on what went down with Milton and not the woman in front of me.

“Exactly. I’m painting the babies a mural.” She smiled brightly. “I was trying to think of something that would work for both a boy and a girl, and that Bella would like. I originally thought circus, but after It, people tend to shy away from clowns. So, ocean, complete with pirates and mermaids, it is.”

“Bella does love mermaids.” Especially ones that glittered, but I wasn’t telling that to Mrs. St. John—for all I knew she had glitter in that magic bucket of hers. “Did you run this by Ethan?”

Ethan and Ryan had spent countless hours on the nursery. He’d probably enjoy the mural, but I so wasn’t comfortable just saying she should go for it.

“That would spoil the surprise.” She began to unpack the bucket. That woman could pack. There were paints, brushes, drop clothes, tape, and I didn’t even know all what spread across the floor.

“And if he decides to paint over it in favor of monochromatic colors or whatever he and Ryan found in their latest nursery research?” Because that was a very real possibility.

“Then I will help.” She sounded like she meant it, too.

“Is this to make up for the fight?”

“No, this is because grandmas can spoil, so I might as well embrace it. I’m not old though. For the record.” Of course she wasn’t.

I just shook my head in mirth. “Duly noted.”

My phone buzzed again.

“Get that.” She pointed to my pants. “It’s buzzed four times. It might be Ethan.”

Four times? Huh. I’d only noticed two.

I pulled it out and sure enough, there were four in a row from Marc.

Yes. My grandmother is still making cakes. I’ll bring you her price sheet.

Talked to Grams she said she has samples for you from a wedding tasting she just did.

So I’m just going to bring them to work and hope you’re there. Grams is super excited to bake a cake for twins. She has a million ideas.

Be there in five.

I looked at my original message—I’d typed birth-space-day, so he assumed the babies. He’d be here any second. I hoped I wouldn’t hurt his grandmother’s feelings too much by ordering a fortieth birthday cake instead.

“It’s someone waiting for me down stairs,” I apologized. “Do you need help moving the cribs?”

“I won’t even be touching that wall. Tell them you’re on your way.”

I gave her a nod and did just that.

“And Larry? Thanks for looking out for my boy and my grandbabies.” She wrapped her arms around me again. “You’ve done well.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied.

“Neither do I.”

I kissed her cheek before walking down to meet Marc.

Marc, who wasn’t alone. By his side was a woman I assumed to be his grandmother, her face beaming. On the counter behind them was a large binder and three cake boxes. She meant business. I’d assumed she’d make a sheet cake or something, but by the looks of things, she was like one of those cake people on the Food Network.

“Marc.” I nodded at him in greeting and turned to the woman. “And I presume you are the baker. I’m Larry, owner of this place.”

“Lulu of Lulu Cake Designs.” She shook my hand. “I hear twins are coming.”

“They are, but I was interested in a fortieth birthday cake for my mate.” I tried to divert away from the twins.

I failed.

“But what about their shower?” She leaned in closer, “I can give you the family rate. You’ve been so good to my Marc-i-poo and I can use it in my portfolio.”

Marc flinched at the use of his nickname. I was going to have fun with that one.

“There’s no shower. It’s Ethan’s call, and he’s pretty much put his foot down.” The only one who wanted a shower was Ryan. I think that was more to give Ethan a picture-perfect pregnancy than wanting to play stupid games with colored safety pins and oversized baby bottle relays. I really couldn’t care less either way.

“Since when does the omega plan the shower?” she scolded, and I gave her the look. She was my elder and I should’ve refrained, but she still got the look. “Fine.”

She marched to the bar where her supplies lay and patted the seat. “So here are the flavors I brought.” She patted the seat a second time. “Sit down and I’ll help you decide what kind of cake. Then we can talk design.”

We spent the next half hour tasting more varieties of cake than I knew possible, each more delicious than the last. I also got to hear her entire life story. She even shared a few embarrassing moments from Marc’s youth.

Before I knew it, she was showing me all the designs she was thinking about for the twins. I had wanted to be strong. I really had, but when she talked about some cake decorating contest and entering her design, I caved. It looked like Ryan’s surprise fortieth birthday party was going to be infused with a baby shower. Ethan was going to kill me.

“And if you change your mind on the cake, please let me know. You really did pick the boring flavors.” She stacked up what was left of what she’d brought.

Chocolate, vanilla, and white cake were not boring. They were classic, not that I was going to argue with her. I’d already attempted to do so, and I ended up ordering three cakes.

I grabbed the pile of boxes and led her out the door, depositing them in the back of Marc’s car just as Daniel pulled in. Perfect timing.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice.” I opened her car door for her as Marc climbed in the driver’s seat.

“It was my pleasure. Cake Wars is mine!” She sounded far more ruthless and far less grandmotherly as she exclaimed her future victory. I closed the door behind her and met Daniel at his door.

“She got you,” he teased as he climbed out of his car. “Lulu. She’s got a reputation for being a bit…intense.” He slapped me on the shoulder. He was trying to come across as relaxed and merry, but what had happened with Milton was weighing hard on him, something only I could have sensed thanks to our long history. “So, how many desserts are we going to be carrying?”

“None. She had a different mission.” Or saw me as a sucker. I had a feeling desserts would be in the bar’s future. Shit, this place was going to end up a freaking restaurant the way things were going.

I shifted from one foot to the other, then looked over at Daniel. “I saw Milton got arrested. Thanks for that. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me shit.” He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag. “I should’ve been able to do something much quicker.” His head fell slightly. “Honestly, it was Ethan’s mom that gave me the hint to look younger. I’d been sniffing around omegas he’s been seen with in public.”

I’d known Milton was older, but that was so much older than I thought. Age is just a number, sure. But not when the omega in question is still in high school. Then that shit matters.

“At least you took care of him.” And I’d forever be in his debt for that. “You did good, brother.” I wrapped my arm around his shoulder.

He pushed off of the car and gave me a playful shove before twisting the cherry off the cigarette and pocketing the butt. “Now out of my way. Charlie is coming to discuss moving a wall to make the ventilation easier.”

“Moving a wall? I thought you didn’t even need the grill.”

“I didn’t, but seeing as I’m getting one, might as well do it right. Thinking of putting it next to the new walk-in freezer.”

So, we were getting a walk-in freezer as well. That was amazing news even if it meant he and Charlie were spending my money without telling me first. It meant he was sticking around. I’d always worried he had one foot out the door, knowing his internal demons were something I couldn’t eradicate for him.

“Might as well show me where that is going. Wouldn’t it be easier to just put the new kitchen in all at once?”

“That’s what Charlie said. She’s bringing the plans.”

He was staying. I wasn’t sure what had changed but he was putting down roots. I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes. He wasn’t okay yet, but it was a step forward and I was going to hold onto the joy of that.

“Of course she is.” I hip checked him as we reached the back door.

An hour later, Charlie was there with the design of Pete’s new kitchen.