There is a knock on the door, and since I know Drago left it unlocked when he went out for a run, I know it can’t be him. It’s too hard of a pound for it to be Ms. Lincoln’s; she has more of a softer, dainty knock.

Sighing, I lay my smartphone down on the coffee table and then get up from the couch where I’ve been lounging most of the morning browsing clothes I can’t afford on my phone.

When I answer the door, no one is there, so I peek outside, looking down the hall and then down the other side. The stairwell door next to the elevator is closing, telling me someone must have just left. I’m about to close my door when something at my feet catches my attention. Looking down, it’s a medium-sized box, which is weird because I wasn’t expecting anything. As much as I’ve itched to, I haven’t ordered anything online in forever. I can’t spare a dime on myself since Gabe has been with me.

Bending down, I scoop it up, shaking it as I walk back inside, kicking the door closed with my bare foot.

After setting the box down on my table, I locate a pair of scissors from the kitchen to cut through the tape. It’s a plain packaging box, so there is nothing telling what might be inside.

Once I’ve sliced through the clear tape, I set the scissors down and open the top. Inside is another box, but this one is unmistakable. Excitement festers in my belly as I read the logo: PENELOPE Lingerie.

I quickly tear my way into the smaller white box, finding five pairs of designer bras with matching panties. They are all so pretty—and my size.

I pause after examining each piece because I didn’t order these. And then I remember . . . Drago said he would replace the pair of underwear he ripped off me. These have to be from him.

I pull a pair of panties out, holding them up. Leopard print, huh?

I don’t get to dwell on any of the expensive lingerie he must have ordered for me because there is a quick rap at my door. When I turn around, it’s opening and in walks my sister-in-law.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, happy but surprised.

“I have a meeting Monday morning”—she closes the door behind her—“so I thought I’d come down for the weekend and steal you to myself. How’s spa weekend with your most favorite person in the whole world sound?”

“Jackson’s here, too?” I tease.

“Bitch.” We both laugh. Alana drops her purse down into the seat of my recliner. “So?” she prompts, putting her hands on her designer jean-clad hips. The cream, off the shoulder top she’s wearing reminds me of the Alana from her college years. She looks less uptight than usual. She looks happier than I’ve seen her in the last year.

“What’s up with you?” I shake my head.

“What do you mean?” She cocks her head in confusion.

“You just . . . seem different. Lighter, I guess.” She looks radiant and younger than her thirty-six years.

Her eyes downcast as if she’s in thought. It only lasts for a second or two, and then she waves her hand as if I’m crazy, turning away from me.

“Go pack a weekend bag. I want to check-in at the hotel soon.” She opens her purse, riffling through until she finds her smartphone.

“I can’t.” It comes out as a whine, because as much as it would be great to spend the weekend with her, I don’t have anyone to watch the baby.

She looks up, away from her phone, but moves her fingers on the screen. She’s an excellent multitasker; always has been.

“You have a date I don’t know about?”

“No,” and then I pause “Well, no, not really, but there is something I have to tell you.”

Her eyes narrow, drilling into me. “So, in other words, you’ve been keeping something from me?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Bri, really, so what is it?”

“I’m not one of your kids, remember? Don’t give me that ‘mommy’ look you do so well.”

“Well, there’s Gabe,” I confess. I haven’t brought him up in weeks and neither has she, so I doubt she thinks I still have him.

“What?” She shakes her head, dropping her smartphone to her side. “Why do you still have him?”

“Because someone has to take care of him.” And I do. He needs me. I can’t hand him over to some stranger who doesn’t know him, or his routines. It took me forever it seems like to get him to the weight he’s supposed to be. I can’t let someone come behind me and fuck that up. I can’t let him be neglected again.

“How is that your problem?”

“Are you kidding me? This coming from you?”

I’m a bit shocked at her reaction. Alana is nothing if not a protective mother. Child abuse is her biggest fundraiser each year. She and my brother co-chair a charity to raise money to fund free housing for women and men with children that includes extensive parenting classes to make sure the parents have the knowledge and tools to care for their children.

Coming from a broken home herself where she was routinely mentally abused as a small child, Alana has a short fuse for child neglect.

“What’s the other?” she asks, ignoring the problem I have with her on the Gabriel issue.

“The other what?” I bite out.

“When you said, ‘there’s Gabe’ in a way that sounded like there is something else too.”

My anger dies as if it never existed.

“Oh,” I drag out, “that.” I force a smile, but she doesn’t return it. “I might be seeing someone?”

“How long?”

“I don’t know?” I chew on my lip, knowing she isn’t going to take this well. “A few weeks.” I shrug. “Four, five, sixish maybe,” I say, thinking in my head, not really knowing what timeframe I should give her. It’s technically been right at six weeks since Drago and I first had sex, but we’ve only been really seeing each other about a month.

She crosses her arms, staring at me.

This is the Alana I hate, well, not hate, because I love her, but I do not like it when she looks at me like she is doing right now. Like I’ve betrayed her, and she doesn’t know what to do or say to me.

Luckily, I’m saved when the door flies open and in walks Drago.

A breath I didn’t know I was holding pushes out of my mouth.

Closing the door, he looks between Alana and I as he walks farther inside, bypassing me to head into my kitchen.

I leave my spot to go sit on the couch. I beckon my sister-in-law to join me but instead, she just stands there with a curious look as she eyes Drago.

He walks back into the living room toting a bottle of water. Stopping and leaning into the wall next to my kitchen, he takes a long swallow of water from the plastic bottle as he stares back at Alana.

Drago’s expression is unreadable, but something gives me the impression he knows her or maybe recognizes her. Looking up at her, I get the same feeling from her about him.

“So, you’re the notorious Drago Acerbi I’ve heard nothing about.”

Drago raises an eyebrow. I’m assuming at Alana’s choice of word to describe him.

“Aren’t you Alana Malone?” he finally asks.

So, my hunches were right.

Alana smiles.

“You’re going to have to do more to impress me than just knowing who I am.”

His eyes cut over to mine, cocking his head. “Your brother know you’re consorting with the enemy?”

I die. Right there on the couch, I die. Laughter I didn’t know existed inside me erupts from deep within and I can’t contain it. Nor can I stop it once it starts. I laugh so hard tears leak from my eyes and my body slips off the sofa, landing me on the floor. I try pounding the ground, but it does nothing to contain how funny I find that.

“What’s so funny about what I asked?” Drago questions. “It was a legit question.”

“Enemy!” Oh, wow.

He has no idea, but before I can quit long enough to enlighten him, Alana speaks up. “I’m Jackson’s wife.”

I look up to see a stunned and possibly disbelieving Drago staring back at her. He finally turns, facing me.

“It’s true,” I confirm, but why he doesn’t want to believe her, I don’t understand. “Alana is my sister-in-law.”

“You’re his biggest competition though.” Drago shakes his head. “The Andrews-Malone war is common knowledge and topics of discussion in and around SF.”

Alana lets outs a huff of air as her hands go to her hips.

“What’s he talking about?” The amusement is suddenly wiped from my expression.

I push up from the floor onto my knees, looking Alana in the eyes, but she is throwing daggers straight through my man. Finally, after a battle of wills no one wins, she glances my way and her expression softens marginally.

“Nothing, honey.” Her words come out as a slow bite that she tries to cover with a quick smile before turning so I can’t see her face.

Oh, it is anything but nothing. She is hiding something from me. Me. Her best friend. Her family.

“Jackson and I like to keep family and business separate. You know that.” Irritation is thick in her voice. “In order to do that, very few people in the corporate world know we’re married. To each other that is,” she adds, as if people may think they aren’t married at all.

This worries me. It frightens me so much I jump off the floor not understanding, but before I can question her further, Gabriel cries indicating he’s awake.

“Ah, he’s awake,” Alana announces with more enthusiasm than moments ago. “I’ll get him for you.”

How convenient, like she wasn’t just grilling me about still having him.

“Alana,” I call out, but she ignores me heading down the hall.

I blow out a stream of air from my mouth then pivot, turning to face Drago.

“You’re going to tell me exactly what you know later on, do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, babe.”

Looking over at the small kitchen table in the corner, I remember the lingerie. Nodding in that direction, I say, smiling, “I got presents today. Would you know anything about that?”

His head turns, looking behind him.

“If it’s sexy underwear, then yes, I do. If not, then it isn’t from me.” His head turns back, facing me again.

“You tore up one pair of panties, not five, or any of my bras. D,” I draw out, “that’s too much.”

Striding over to me, he reaches out, tugs on his T-shirt and pulls me to his sweaty front. I’m not even grossed out. The sexy smile on his face has me weakening at the knees.

“Nothing, Bri”—his head moves slowly from side to side—“is too much when it comes to you.” His hands slide under my butt, lifting me up in a move that looks effortless. “Besides, I think I’m the one that’s going to benefit from that purchase, don’t you?”

He pulls on the back of my neck, smashing his lips to the skin below my ear. I squirm as it tickles, and my brother and sister-in-law’s issues are forgotten—at least for now.

---

A dip in the bed behind me pulls my eyes open the next morning. I don’t need to look at my smartphone to know it’s later in the morning than the time I’m usually awake by. The sun is already shining through the sheer curtains, letting me know it’s daylight outside.

Rolling over onto my other side, I see Drago placing Gabriel down on the bed between us, then he gets back under the covers, all while balancing a bottle between the baby’s lips.

My lips tip at the sight.

“I was trying not to wake you. I guess I did a real shit job of that.”

“Morning,” I greet him as I squeeze my pillow, snuggling up to it.

“You know, you didn’t have to come back last night. You could have stayed with your sister-in-law.”

I groan on the inside, because that was the original plan. When Drago found out why Alana came over yesterday, he was all for me going with her to the luxury hotel. He told me, in front of her, he didn’t have any plans this weekend so he would keep Gabriel at my condo for the night so I could have fun. And it was fun—at first—until Alana started harping on me caring for the baby again. Then she got more serious when she wanted to discuss Drago.

She went all motherly, and frankly, I got tired of listening to it. I didn’t need her to tell me who D is, or who she thinks he is because she doesn’t know. All she knows, just like everyone else, are rumors. She doesn’t see into his eyes. She doesn’t witness the man underneath the dress clothes. She doesn’t see the good in him like I do.

Taking a cab, I was home before midnight.

I wasn’t even worried about leaving Gabriel alone with D. Honestly, it wasn’t even a second thought. Thinking about that now, I keep wondering in the back of mind if it’s possible he’s playing me in any way and decide to squash that thought. He’s done nothing to cause me to doubt his motives. I’d feel it in the pit of my stomach if he weren’t genuine. I know I would.

“I know, but I missed you guys. What did you two do last night?” I reach over, taking over holding the bottle in Gabriel’s mouth. I really did miss them both, and being here right now, I do like it a lot. Alana may be right, to a degree, but I do know that this little guy is in the best possible place he can be. And for that reason alone, nothing else matters.

“Watched Sports Center.”

“Ooh,” I exaggerate. “You both went wild.”

Drago chuckles, falling onto his back.

Putting his hands behind his head, I take the opportunity to admire his naked torso.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Drago chastises. “I can’t do shit about it with him in here.”

“Don’t cuss in front of him.”

“Seriously?” He laughs. “He can’t talk. He can’t repeat it.”

“You say it now, and you’ll still be saying it when he’s ten,” I reason.

“Bri,—his eyebrow shoot up—“don’t you think you’re getting a little too attached to this kid?”

Not him too.

It’s then I realize what I’ve just said. I guess I should be grateful he picked up on me thinking he and I would still be in Gabe’s life years from now, because Drago would still be in mine, and not because I was thinking of Drago being this sweet baby boy’s dad.

I should be grateful that’s how he took it, but it only feels sour in my stomach.

Lies. I hate lies. I hate it even more when it’s me doing the lying.

It’s never bothered me when it was for my job—until now. It feels wrong, like I’m betraying him in a sense. Maybe I am. And if I am . . .?

I don’t want to think about that, so I change the subject.

“How come you’ve never once asked me the details of my investigation?”

“Because I’m not worried.” There is no hesitation in his voice and I don’t understand why. If I have a member of law enforcement hell-bent on putting my ass in jail, I think I might sweat a little at the least. “But . . .”

He looks up at the ceiling, not finishing what he was going to ask, so I prompt him. “But what?”

“Why do you still have him?” His head turns, Drago’s eyes landing back on me. “You’re not in social work, you’re a cop.”

“I know I am.”

Where is he going with this?

“It just seems . . . odd is all.”

Gabriel pushes his bottle out of his mouth, not wanting any more, so I place the near-empty bottle on the nightstand behind me.

Reaching underneath him, I scoop Gabe into my hands and then place him on my chest. The connection I feel with him is instant.

He’s exactly where he should be, I think to myself.

“Look, D. I can’t tell you the details, I want to, I really do, but my hands are bound—for now. Just know that this, here with me, is the second-best place he can possibly be.” And it is. I’m damn sure of that.

“And the first?”

“Somewhere”—I shake my head—“he can’t be at the moment.” I start to lightly pat Gabriel’s back. “Can we drop this subject, please? I got enough of it from Alana.” And I’m tired of fucking hearing about it. I get they don’t know the whole story, the story at all, but I’ve got this.

God, I hope I do.

“Maybe she’s trying to look at it objectively like I am. Have you thought of that?” His eyes bore into mine.

“Be done,” I warn.

He sighs. “Fine. I won’t say another word. Happy?”

“Not exactly, but thank you.”

“What do you want to do today? I haven’t had a weekend off in forever.” His mood seems to change, lightening, which is a good sign.

“Be lazy,” I tell him, because that’s exactly what I want. I want to relax, not thinking about any of the shit on my plate and just enjoy this, enjoy them, while I can.

And that’s exactly what we do. Drago walks down to the corner market an hour later, getting us breakfast, and then the three of us lounge on my couch, watching movies, and it’s one of the simplest but best days I’ve ever spent that didn’t include my family.

Then again, maybe this is a new beginning with a new family.