Sierra

“I can’t believe you’re a mother.” The blond guy on the computer screen laughs and shakes his head.

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “Our mom would be grandmother. Can you imagine that?”

“She’d hate hearing that,” the second guy says, leaning in front of his brother so he can see me. “She always made us call her Lynny. She’d probably make her grandkids do the same.”

I roll my eyes, chuckling with the two guys. The Skype connection stalls for a second and I switch to the chat bar.

Losing connection. Maybe I can visit next Christmas. You can meet your niece.

That’d be great. The message pops up in the chat box, even as the image of the two guys freezes. Just in case they can still see me, I wave before I sign off.

“So they’re your brothers?” Oren asks. He’s sitting on the end of the table, working on a new carving project. His foot is propped on his last project, a beautiful cradle made from one giant piece of wood. He moves his foot absently, making the cradle rock, even though there’s not a baby in there.

“Half-brothers. They’re down in New York state.” I close all the applications and shut the computer down.

Elon looks up from his knitting. He’s got a large ball of yarn in the softest pink. I don’t know what he’s working on now—there’s nothing more my daughter needs. He’s already knit a hat, blankie and tiny sweater. “You’ve never met them, right?”

“Nope.” That’ll change. I want my daughter to know her family. I rise and head toward Saint’s room. The door is cracked, so I knock.

“Enter.” His deep voice reaches every secret part of me. I open the door and stand with the computer cocked on my hips. The big man is perched on the edge of his bed, boots planted on the ground, pink blanket spilling over his shoulder. One giant hand hides my daughter’s lower torso. The other rubs her back. Nothing better than a big, beautiful man holding a baby. My ovaries sigh at the sight.

“She awake yet?”

“Nope.” Saint cranes his neck to check on her. I set the computer down and creep around to see her peaceful little face. As soon as I see her, everything in me relaxes. I can’t believe something so perfect came out of me. We did good, Jack.

My daughter’s lips pucker into a little heart when she sleeps.

“You can put her down,” I offer. “She’ll stay asleep. Or if she doesn’t, I’ll feed her.”

“I’m good,” Saint says, and nods to the computer. “Did you like your gift?”

“Yes, thank you. I don’t know how you found them. You work in mysterious ways.”

Saint chuckles. “That’s not your only gift.”

When I raise my brows, he jerks his head toward a nondescript box next to him on the bed.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Another birthday present. We’ll use it tonight.”

I search his midnight dark eyes, my insides tingling. I’ve found the best sex toys come in bland packages.

“Better go rest up,” Saint says. “I’ll hold this baby. You take a nap. Later, you’ll need it.”

With a shiver and smile, I tiptoe out. Lincoln should be in his room.

Today was my birthday, and the guys went all out. In addition to all the baby stuff, Elon made me a matching sweater. Oren gave me a wood carving of a lithe little fairy holding a tiny blanket-bundled baby. Lincoln gave me a down coat and trapper hat made of faux fur. Roy and Tommy added to my music collection, and Mason gave me a new speaker system. Saint ordered me books and chocolate, and got the Skype connection to my half-brothers.

The guys made a chocolate sheet cake with a ganache topping too slick to stick a candle in, so they stacked biscuits into a pyramid and stuck candles in that instead.

I already have plans to express my gratitude. But first, Saint’s right. I need my rest.

When I get to Lincoln's room, he’s sitting propped on the bed, stroking his beard as he studies a report. His shirt is open halfway. When I knock lightly on the door, he turns to me and opens his arms.

“Did you enjoy meeting your brothers?” he asks, as I snuggle against him.

“Yes. I promised to visit one day.”

“Good plan.”

“I have no idea what to tell them about us. All of us.”

He shrugs. “You’ll think of something. I’m more worried about what you’re going to tell Riley when she gets old enough to ask why she has seven dads.”

“I’ll think of something,” I say, and yawn. I’ve already got an idea what I’ll tell my daughter, inspired by some of the books I’ve read. As Lincoln wraps his arms around me, his beard tickles my cheek. I burrow into his hold and close my eyes to dream of the story…

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who ran from a bad man into a forest. The way was long and hard, but she soon came to a camp of lumberjacks living in the deep, dark woods…