Belle glared into the depths of her decaf coffee, then down at her protruding belly, and frowned. “Soon, very soon I can go back to actual coffee,” she whispered with a smile.

“Too soon,” Greyson said from across the kitchen.

Belle lifted her gaze. He was eyeing her belly with a strained look in his eyes and maybe even a little panic. She sighed and tapped her fingers on the rim of her mug. “You’ll be fine.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” he said quietly.

“We’ll be fine,” she assured him for the fiftieth time. “Dr. Higgins said there’s nothing to worry about right now. Everything looks good. All we have to do now is wait, so stop worrying about me and worry about you and Tim fixing that bug on time.”

She dragged her laptop closer and opened it, turning it on, and settled back. Brent had been back in California for a while, though he tried to visit once a month, courtesy of Greyson. They were going to talk today and go through some papers and articles friends of their mom had sent over. A stack of yearbooks loomed at the edge of the table, and Belle rose to grab them when Greyson rushed over and did it for her.

“You’re not lugging these things around. They weigh a goddamn ton,” he muttered. “Have you even opened them yet?”

They’d been delivered on Monday. Belle had set them on the kitchen table and had not looked at them since. It was Saturday, and her hands still shook when she reached for the first one. “This was her senior year,” she told him quietly.

Greyson slipped it off the others and laid it before her as she logged into Skype to video chat with Brent. He flipped through pages of the yearbook and scooted the book closer, pointing to a picture. “Penelope Tinson,” he said. “You look just like her.”

Belle breathed in deep to steady herself and let her eyes fall on the picture to which Greyson pointed. A young woman of eighteen stared back at her from an aged photo, smiling brightly with ice-blue eyes filled with passion and a zest for life. Belle’s fingers traced the picture, and she smiled sadly, wishing more than anything she’d had a chance to meet this woman who had died alone, leaving her children to what she hoped would be a good life. Belle looked at Greyson as he whistled and walked away, resting her free hand on her belly. She hoped her mom could see that after the rough times in her life, she turned out alright, that everything had.

“Hey, Belle,” Brent said from the laptop, and Belle pulled herself away from the photo.

“Brent,” she said and grinned. “You look wonderful this morning.”

He frowned. “Late night at the gallery.”

“Oh, that’s right—your show! How was it?” she asked excitedly. “Greyson already bid on several of your paintings, by the way.”

Greyson picked up his coffee mug and walked over to the kitchen table. “Morning, Brent.”

“Greyson, I appreciate your patronage, as always,” Brent said with a nod and smile.

“Always happy to help family. Tell Ashley that I say hi and that I miss her lasagna,” Greyson said, and Belle smacked his arm. “What? I’m not saying anything about your inability to make one.”

Ashley was Brent’s girlfriend and had visited the last couple of times with Brent. She was younger than him, right around Belle’s age, and they got on wonderfully together. And she was an excellent cook, something Greyson continued to tease her about.

“I’ll let her know,” Brent said with a laugh.

Greyson kissed the top of Belle’s head. “You two have fun. I’m going to conference call the office. Tim should be there by now, and hopefully Davis and Billy.”

“You dragged them all to the office on a Saturday? Why aren’t you going?”

He shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll wind up there, don’t worry,” he said as he walked down the hall to his office. When the door clicked closed, Belle puffed out her cheeks and blew her hair out of her face.

“That’s a pleasant look,” Brent said. “Troubles?”

“No… well, maybe. We had a little spat a few days ago.”

“Over what?”

Belle tapped her fingers on her mug. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Belle, I’m your older brother, remember? Do I have to come over there and talk some sense into Greyson?” he asked with a stern eye.

Belle laughed and shook her head. “No. He just assumed that once we had the baby, I’d want to be a stay-at-home mom and not work anymore. Not be with him at the office.”

“And you got mad?”

She frowned. “Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Brent sighed and ran his hands over his hair. “You know he did it because he loves you, right? There’s no ulterior motive, even though I can tell by the determined look in your eyes you’re set on finding one. He loves you, that’s all.”

“So then why wouldn’t he ask me what I want?” she replied stiffly.

“He shouldn’t have assumed,” Brent admitted with a shrug, “but can you blame him? Who were you before you met? Who were you before you got pregnant?”

Belle sank back in her chair and thought about his questions. Who was she before she landed that internship and started working with Greyson? “A workaholic,” she finally said quietly. “I worked too much.”

“And I’m going out on a limb here and saying he probably thinks you’re still a workaholic.” She pursed her lips but didn’t respond. “That’s why he did it. Ashley does it to me all the time, tries to find ways for me to stay home. She’s even faked being sick before—for a week.”

Belle could see Ashley doing that, and if she thought on it, she could picture Greyson pulling the same stunt if it stopped her from going into the office every day. He’d told her time and again she didn’t have to be there every day. Most women took maternity leave, but Belle had said that until Dr. Higgins told her she needed to quit working, she would be at the office every day everyone else was. There was no reason for her not to go. She sat in a chair for most of the day, anyway.

“Just give the man a break,” Brent told her. “He loves you.”

She held up her hands in defeat. “Fine, fine, I’ll let it go,” she said out loud, but there was one more thing Greyson would have to do before she really let him off the hook. “I found Mom’s pic in the yearbook.”

“Great,” he said. “I think I found someone better.”

Belle paused. “Someone? Like who?”

“You’re looking at the senior yearbook?” he asked, and she watched as he flipped through pages on the screen. She nodded and pulled it closer. “Turn to page 85 and look at the middle picture of Mom and two guys.”

Belle flipped quickly to that page and ran her finger down it to the picture. “Is that… is that Mom with Dad?” she asked. Her eyes read the description and she sucked in a breath. “Penelope Tinson with longtime boyfriend from the rival football team, James Hall, and Benjamin Long. Holy shit.” She sat back in her chair, staring at the young face of their dad. “Brent, which was the rival school?”

“I already tracked it down, and I think there’s someone you should talk to. I found Benjamin and he’s on Skype right now,” he told her, his voice shaky with nerves.

“Why the hell didn’t you start with that?” she yelped, fixing her hair and re-situating herself in her chair the best she could. “That’s kind of more important than my spat with Greyson.”

Brent laughed and gave her a moment to compose herself before he said, “Alright, I’m adding Ben to the call. One second.”

Belle tapped her fingers nervously, staring at the younger version of this Benjamin Long, a friend of their dad’s. Please know where he is, she thought, crossing her fingers as she waited. Please just tell us where he is.

“Belle,” Brent said. She looked at the screen and saw his face and another, older man’s face—fifties, maybe—with jet-black hair and slanted green eyes, just like the picture in front her. “This is Benjamin Long.”

The words stuck in her throat. All she could do was wave and smile. Ben laughed and waved back. “Pleasure to meet you, Belle. Can’t tell you how excited I am to finally meet James’ kids.”

“You… you know about us?” Belle asked. “How?”

“Your dad was around when you were little,” Ben said. “So was I, and you look just like your mom.”

Belle’s face warmed, and she looked at the picture of Penelope, Ben, and James. “What happened? Why did she leave us?” The hurt in her voice almost made her feel guilty for laying such heavy-handed questions on Ben, but when she met his eyes again, a mix of anger and sadness warred across his face. “Ben?”

“I know what happened, but I think this is a story better told in person,” he said quietly. “There’s so much to tell, and from the looks on both your faces, you don’t know a damn thing about either of your parents.”

“We know Mom ran off with Dad,” Brent said. “Learned that from our grandparents.”

“Your mom’s parents? Yeah, they’re a right piece of work,” he grunted. “We always hated them, and your mom never got on with them, either.” His lips lifted in a smile, and his eyes saw something far away as he spoke. “She was always running out of that house to be with James, and if he wasn’t around, she’d hide out at my place. I lived with my older brother—no parents—so we didn’t care. The three of us, we were like the damn musketeers. Like that for a long, long while.”

He stopped speaking, and Belle’s heart pounded in her chest. They were so close to having all the answers, and if that meant flying Ben in to meet them, that was what she would do. “Where are you, Ben?”

“Living in Montana, as far away as I could get,” he said.

“Would you be willing to fly to Phoenix and meet with us?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too desperate.

His face softened, and he nodded. “For James’ kids, I’ll do just that.”

Belle and Brent grinned, and Ben’s eyes misted over before he wiped at them quickly. “Ben? You alright?” Brent asked.

“You two… you just remind me so much of them. Damn, I miss them both.”

“Do you… do you know where Dad is?” Belle asked quietly. “Is he even… is he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words, but Ben nodded in understanding.

“He’s alive, last I heard, and that was just a few months ago.”

Belle and Brent let out a collective sigh of relief. “That’s good… that’s really, really good,” Brent said, but Belle wasn’t so sure about actually meeting their father face to face. She listened as Ben told them more about his time with James and Penelope growing up and how James had met her when she worked at the local diner as a waitress. She spilled a milkshake on him—on purpose—when he tried to flirt and failed miserably.

“He went back to that diner every day for a month until she finally gave in and went on a date with him so he could make it up to her. They were inseparable after that,” Ben said with a smirk.

“Until he disappeared and she gave us up, you mean,” Belle muttered darkly.

Brent’s face hardened, and Ben nodded slowly. “I understand your anger, Belle, I do, but once we talk, you’ll understand.”

* * *

Greyson listened from the doorway of his office as Belle finished her call with Brent and whoever Ben was. When she hung up and laid her head on the kitchen table, he thought to give her a moment to herself until her shoulders trembled and his chest tightened with worry. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms without a word. She rested against him as the tears flowed down her cheeks, and he knew she hated to cry like this. Hated to show such weakness, but he didn’t think any less of her for it.

“I take it your talk didn’t go as planned?” he asked when she finally sat back as he tucked her hair behind her ears. “Belle?”

“It did, I think,” she said and filled him in quickly on who Ben was and what he’d said.

“That’s good, though, isn’t it? Your dad’s alive,” he said excitedly, but she shook her head.

“If he’s alive, why the hell are we flying his friend out to meet us and not him?” she asked harshly. “Why are we tracking him down?”

Greyson tilted her chin up so he could see her eyes. “Ben said there was a story behind all of this, and if he has to fly in to tell it, I think your dad might have a damn good reason for staying away as long as he did. Give him a chance.”

“Coming from the man who still harbors a grudge against his dad,” she muttered.

He opened his mouth to argue but closed it with a shrug. “Maybe I want you to have a good relationship with your dad while there’s still time.”

Belle fell against him, and he laughed quietly with her head resting on his chest.

“Are you going to be alright for the rest of the day? I do have to run into the office, after all.”

She nodded and pushed back. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Going to prop my feet up and watch a movie or something.” Greyson’s lips thinned as he reached out and felt her forehead. “What are you doing?” she asked with a laugh. “I’m fine.”

“Just checking. This does not sound like the Belle I know,” he teased and kissed her. “If you need anything, you call, okay? I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He kissed her again and watched her waddle to the living room to get comfortable. Once she was settled in, he took his keys and drove into the office, smiling the whole way at what he was really doing there on a Saturday. When he’d reached the fifth floor, he didn’t go to his office but to what used to be a tiny conference room on their main floor, used only for storage. It was maybe fifty feet from Belle’s office, and when he peered around the corner of the doorway, his smile widened.

“She’s going to love this,” he said.

Tim and Davis turned around, happy grins on their otherwise pained faces. “Good, ‘cause my hand’s cramping like a mother from all this painting.”

The dark blue walls were stenciled with characters and creatures from Greyson’s first game. A dark mahogany crib was set at one end with a mobile hanging over it with dangling orcs and goblins—cute ones—and a changing table and rocking chair sat on the other side.

“If Belle wants to work and be a mom, she’ll have her chance to do both,” Greyson said and patted both Davis and Tim on the back. “I owe you both.”

“As long as she stays happy and keeps you happy,” Davis said, “it’ll all be worth it.”

“When are you going to show it to her?” Tim asked.

“She has her interview with Tom on Tuesday,” he told them with a grimace.

“So Monday?” Davis asked.

“Oh no, I’m going to let Tom pitch her the new job, and when she comes back to tell me all about it, I’m going to show her the new papers I had Kelly type up,” Greyson said, “and the nursery. How can she pass up all the free babysitters?”

Davis and Tim laughed with him. Greyson’s plan was flawless. He knew no matter what Tom offered Belle, his deal was so much better. She wouldn’t be able to turn it down, and if they managed to track her dad down in time for the wedding, she would have the one man who should be there to walk her down the aisle back in her life. Hopefully, for good.

“I’m going to order us some lunch in and then we can head downstairs,” Greyson told them.

“Wait, you expected us to do actual work today, too?” Tim asked and Davis shoved him with a sharp laugh.

“What am I paying you overtime for?” Greyson asked with a wink.

“I don’t know… Something about keeping your future wife happy after you screwed up again,” Tim said under his breath when Greyson reached the door.

He paused, worried for a split second that his constant screw-ups would eventually drive Belle away, but the last two nights floated back to him… How they’d held each other, and their love passed between them without even having to say a word. He kept on walking, laughing when Davis and Tim bickered again like an old married couple.