I’d been so eager to get knocked up that I hadn’t stopped to consider timing. Now, eight months and two weeks in, I wished I’d thought it through. Sex should’ve been off the table during any months that might result in a summer pregnancy.

“Hand me that,” I said to Val, gesturing between us. “Hurry up.”

The terrified look on her face only annoyed me more. “What are you pointing at?” she asked.

“Your flip-flop.”

She and Tiff exchanged a glance that was probably meant to ask if I was insane, but I didn’t care. She took off her shoe and gave it to me. I started fanning myself. “Manning’s house is a million fucking degrees.”

“Suddenly it’s Manning’s house?” Val asked. “Not yours?”

“I never signed up to live in a sauna.”

“It’s really not that bad,” Tiffany said. “But I know when I was pregnant—”

“It’s not because I’m pregnant,” I said. “It’s the middle of June and Big Bear is experiencing an extreme heat wave.”

“It’s eighty-five degrees out . . .”

“Lake is right,” Kara said, nodding at me with a soft smile. I’d gotten to know Henry’s daughter better since my wedding, but I wasn’t as close with her as I was with most of the girls in the room. “Hopefully Manning will get the A.C. fixed soon.”

“Thank you, Kara,” I said.

The flip-flop wasn’t cutting it. I tossed it aside, looking for a paper plate, a magazine, an igloo to crawl into—anything. I rocked forward as best I could, stretching for the diaper tree on the coffee table, but in my enormous state, I couldn’t get to it. “Someone hand me one of those.”

“But it’s arranged so pretty,” said Piper, a friend from my veterinary program.

Kara moved the tree to the floor next my chair. A chair they’d made me sit in to put me on display.

I pulled a diaper out and relaxed back in my seat, waving it over my clammy face and neck. “That’s better. Now what?”

“Well,” Val said slowly, “I had this game planned.”

“Great,” I said. “I love games. Let’s have some fun.”

It was only then I noticed how quiet the room was. Val had not only organized me a baby shower, but she’d gone out of her way to invite people from coast to coast. Classmates, friends, and relatives had come from Los Angeles and Pomona, and even Roger had flown in from New York to be here—although, I suspected he was really in California to troll the West Hollywood summer scene. A few of the girls hadn’t made the wedding, and they were floored by the house—I would have to tell Manning when I saw him, assuming I didn’t die of heatstroke.

We’d all been having a nice time until the brand-new air conditioning unit had gone out. Luckily, Manning had been hiding out with the dogs in his workshop during the party and had jumped into action.

I made a hurry-up motion with my hand. “What’s the game?”

“It’s called Dirty Diapers,” Val rushed out.

“We played it at my shower, and you won, remember?” Tiffany added. “Val and I thought it would be fun. We smash melted chocolate bars into diapers, then pass them around for everyone to guess which candy it is.”

“Like poop?” I asked.

“Yes?” Val said.

“Is that a question?” I asked.

“We don’t have to do it.” Val smoothed her skirt over her thighs. Bless her, she’d worn a floral pattern for today. It was the most mom-like outfit I’d seen her in since she’d had Ella. “There’s another game where we get out a measuring tape and guess the circumference of your belly . . .”

Was she serious? I looked like a hot air balloon—I didn’t need confirmation I was actually the size of one. Sweat dripped from my under-boobs down my stomach. I pushed my damp hair behind my ear and shifted in an attempt to dislodge the underwear wedged up my ass.

Roger winced. “I don’t think measuring anything is such a good idea . . .”

“Me neither,” I agreed. “I don’t remember the poop game, but I also forgot my niece’s birthday last week and nearly had a panic attack trying to get a present in the mail the day before.”

Tiffany pouted. “You forgot Coco’s birthday?”

“Yes, and I also forgot you were sitting there,” I said. “Give me a break. Pregnancy brain is a real thing.”

Everyone laughed nervously. Val stood. “You know, I think I hear Ella crying in the playroom.”

Tiffany grabbed her wrist. “I don’t hear anything, but even if I did, that’s why we hired a babysitter. I’m sure the kids are fine.”

Slowly, Val sat. “All right.”

If Val and Tiffany had formed an alliance, I must’ve really been a monster. I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so uncomfortable.” I pointed around the room. “None of you said it would be this bad.”

“It was the same for me, but I wasn’t around people the final month,” Piper said. “You’re really brave.”

“Brave, or ignorant?” I asked, shooting Val a look. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it so late.”

Tiffany stood. “I definitely hear some weird noises coming from the playroom. I should probably check on Coco.”

“Hey, what about the babysitter?” Val called after her, then muttered, “Traitor.”

Manning came in the front door, wiping his brow with his t-shirt sleeve as he entered the living room. “Almost there, sweetheart,” he said, smiling as I glared at him. Vega trailed after him the way she always did, barely noticing us. “I just need to play with the thermostat,” he added.

All the women in the room turned, plus Roger. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

Manning wore an old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. His biceps were as big as my head and covered in a sheen of sweat. For some reason, he was wearing a hardhat. I was pretty sure he hadn’t put that thing on years, which meant it was a hardhat with a purpose. I’d been yelling at him for two weeks straight—and he was definitely trying to remind me of the day we’d met so I’d remember why I loved him. It was working. The girls in the room were practically puddles of drool as they watched Manning stomp through the living room. My insides tightened with a sudden need to drag my husband into our bedroom. Or throw him down on the couch here, everyone else be damned. Had I always had a thing for dirty construction men, or did it only apply to Manning?

It didn’t help that no matter my mood, or the last time Manning and I had been intimate, I’d been painfully aroused for months. Luckily, Manning had no qualms helping in that department, no matter how far along I was. Even though he regularly commented on my ‘glow,’ he was the radiant one. He couldn’t have been in a better mood lately.

For the most part, that was . . .

There was, I’d noticed, something on his mind. He’d started leaving our bed in the middle of the night again, but this time, it wasn’t to smoke—he’d quit the same day we’d gotten our pink lines. Now, he’d take his girl, Vega, on walks instead.

It wasn’t money. His company had been steadily growing each year—he’d never even had time to pursue contracting like he’d planned—and I’d paid off my student loans a while back. My practice had opened right as the town’s most popular vet had retired, giving me plenty of business.

All I could guess was that he was nervous about the birth, but he seemed fine whenever it came up. He’d read enough books on the subject that he could probably deliver the baby himself.

“Sorry, ladies,” Manning said on his way to the hallway thermostat, furrowing his brows at all of us as we stared. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Nobody looked away. Not even Val. She was not only my best friend, but she’d always hated Manning just a little bit. At the moment, she looked as if she were ready to ditch Corbin for him. We all followed him with our eyes until he’d disappeared into the hall.

Piper turned back. “That’s your husband?”

“Has he been working out more than usual?” Val asked.

Kara shook her head with a dreamy sigh. “He’s always been like that . . . so Manning.”

I breathed through my nose. Basically, at forty-three, Manning looked better than ever. And I was an obese pig. “Maybe we should end the party early.”

“No,” some of them wailed.

Piper stuck out her bottom lip. “You haven’t even opened your presents.”

As if heaven itself had taken pity on me, the house shuddered ominously and the air conditioning kicked on. “Oh, thank God,” I said.

Our landline rang, and Manning walked back through the living room toward the kitchen, Vega once again glued to his heels. “No, thank me,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes on his tight, jean-clad ass. Trust me, I will later.

When I broke from my trance, everyone was staring at me. “Did I say that aloud?”

“Get it, girl,” Roger said, winking at me.

“Don’t worry,” Kara added. “I was super . . . excited . . . during my first pregnancy.”

“I wasn’t,” Val said. “I practically moved Corbin into a hotel until it was over, he was so annoying.” She smiled a little. “In a sweet way, though.”

“Robby, too,” Tiffany said, reentering the room. “I hated him, except when I was horny.”

“Same here,” Val agreed.

Ugh. The thought of Tiffany and Robby or Val and Corbin or basically anyone in this room having sex was even less appetizing to me than chocolate shit in a diaper. Manning, on the other hand—I could’ve eaten him up like a slice of French Silk pie. Literally. I was so hungry.

I stood. “I’ll be right back.”

In the kitchen, Manning sat on a stool, his elbows planted on the island next to his hardhat as he rubbed a hand over his messy hair. By the distant look on his face, I’d caught him zoning out—and it wasn’t the first time lately.

“Hey,” I said. Vega blinked at me from where she lay by the kitchen table. “Who was on the phone?”

“Nobody.” He straightened up. “I’m sorry about the air conditioning.”

“It’s okay.” I smiled sweetly while I threatened, “As long as it doesn’t go out again.”

He held an arm open to me. “Come over here.”

“No. I’m disgusting from sweating all afternoon. I need a cold shower and a nap.”

“Shower sounds good,” he said, beckoning for me. “Can I at least get a kiss?”

“Why?” I crossed my arms as best I could over my balloon boobs. “I wish you would just go away until after the birth. I’ve never felt more unattractive.”

“Aw, Lake.” He chuckled. “My love. My wife. You’re lit from within. You must know you’re as beautiful as ever, and that I’ve never loved you more.”

My irritation fizzled into tears. I covered my face. “I know you’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“Birdy, please.” He got off the stool, came around the island—he had to get behind me to touch me, my stomach was so big—and moved my limp curls off my neck. “You’re carrying my child. How many times do I need to tell you how sexy that is to me?”

I sighed as my skin cooled. “That feels nice.”

“Why don’t you put your hair up?” he asked. “Or at least change into a tank top?”

“I wouldn’t subject my friends to that.”

He raked my hair away from my face, holding it off my shoulders. “You know, you were making some . . . noises . . . while you slept last night.”

“I slept last night?”

He laughed, but only for a second, his voice turning serious as he lowered his hand over the crotch of my jeans. How he could reach that far, I had no idea. “I did an Internet search and guess what? Just like at thirty-three weeks, we’re allowed to fuck at thirty-four.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, skeptical. “You have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”

“Lake, mine is the only dick you’ve ever seen.”

“Of course,” I said. I’d forgotten for a moment that Manning had rewritten history, removing any other ‘mutt’ who’d ever come ‘sniffing around’ as he liked to say.

“Some people even think,” he added seductively, “it could induce labor.”

“Oh, God,” I moaned, resting my head back against his shoulder. “You’re making me wet.”

Manning licked and sucked my neck in a way that instantly made me shudder. “If your friends weren’t in the next room, I’d take you in the shower and fuck you right now.”

I turned around and sobbed into his chest. “Don’t say that. I’m so horny.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around me. “I would. I’d do it. Except for the sex in the shower part. We can wait until after. I don’t want you to slip.”

“I’d bounce right off the floor.”

“Hang on a little longer,” he said. “As soon as they go, my sperm is going to ripen the hell out of your cervix and possibly stimulate birth.”

“I’ve never been more turned on.” I sniffled. “I can’t believe you’re hugging me right now. You must have the longest arms in history.”

“Hey.”

I looked up at him. “What?”

He turned me by my shoulders to face the double ovens, our reflection slightly distorted in the chrome and glass doors. “I know you’re joking, but please tell me you know how exceptionally beautiful you are right now. If you don’t, I haven’t done a good enough job showing you.”

My chin trembled. Again. “I’m sorry. I just don’t feel like myself.”

“Like the doctor said, you are perfectly within the size and weight you should be.”

“For carrying a nine-and-a-half-pound baby—you forgot that part.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have fallen for a giant.”

Soon enough, I’d hold a Manning-sized baby in my arms.

Manning’s son. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to say that, and now I couldn’t imagine our lives any other way than with a little boy, our third star.

I covered Manning’s hands on my shoulders. “Yeah, poor me.”

He released me with a pat on the butt. “You better get back to the party before everyone makes a break for it. I heard a little bit of my moody bitch in there.”

With a reluctant sigh, I started to leave the kitchen, then paused to look back at him. “You never said who was on the phone.”

He hesitated. “We can talk about it after.”

“After the shower?”

“After the birth.”

I turned around, blinking at him. “All right, Sutter. Out with it.”

“With what?”

“Whatever’s been going on the past couple months that you’re not telling me.”

Vega rolled onto her side and groaned, as if to say “here we go.”

“It’s a sad story,” he said, sniffing as he peeked into a Tupperware of blue sugar cookies on the island. “A problem I don’t know how to fix, and trust me—it’ll only make you cry.”

“I won’t cry, I promise.” I tried to look serious, but the truth was, I routinely felt on the verge of tears. I turned to get a glass from a cupboard so he wouldn’t see me falter, and also because my mouth was minutes away from shriveling into a desert.

“If you insist.” As I opened the freezer, he checked through the doorway to ensure nobody was listening. “It was Cheryl.”

I paused while scooping ice into my glass. “From the adoption agency?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? They know we’re pregnant.”

“She and I have kept in touch the past couple months. She’d called back in March with this case—a boy she thought we could help with, and you wouldn’t believe this kid’s story . . .” He scratched his jaw, leaning on the island. “It hit a little close to home for me, so I asked her to keep me updated.”

“Close to home?” I could tell by the look on his face this was serious. I braced myself with a long drink of water. I would’ve considered pouring the rest over my head if I didn’t need to be presentable a little longer. I set down the glass, took a breath, and steadied myself against the island opposite him. “Okay. Who is he?”

“Nine-year-old boy who’s, as of a few months ago, an orphan.”

“Oh, poor baby,” I said, pressing my palm to my heart. “What happened to his parents?”

“His mom passed after he was born.”

“And his dad?”

“Dead. The boy killed him—”

“What?” I asked so sharply, Vega raised her head.

“Let me finish.” He tapped a finger on the island’s surface. “The kid shot his dad while protecting his eleven-year-old sister from what Cheryl said could’ve been a fatal beating.”

I dropped my jaw. Now I understood why it hit close to home. Manning, too, had intervened with his father to protect his sister. Unfortunately, it hadn’t resulted quite the same way. “I can’t believe that.”

“Apparently, the kid knew where his dad kept his gun and when push came to shove, he just . . . snapped.”

“He didn’t snap. He saved her.” Snapped was a word Manning used in reference to his dad’s temper. I knew that possibility scared him, in himself and in others, but this wasn’t the same. “And now the boy’s alone? What about the sister?”

“Relatives took her in. This is the worst part—they don’t want anything to do with him.”

The hair on my skin prickled. For the first time in recent history, sad news didn’t actually make me want to cry. It made my already warm face heat with a familiar sense of frustration for a boy who’d been wronged. A familiar sense of injustice. For the kid, and for my Manning, an innocent man who’d had enough experience being unfairly defined by his criminal past. “Wow,” I said, my heart racing. “Where is he now?”

“A group home, but Cheryl’s worried there are bad influences there.”

“How worried?” I asked.

He blew out a sigh. “Enough to call on a Sunday to see if I’d found anyone who could . . . help.”

“Help,” I repeated. “As in, adopt? Is that why she called us in the first place?”

“She knows my history with Madison and my dad, plus the fact that we’ve been rejected a few times.” He pushed off the island, straightening his back. “All that considered, I guess she thought we’d be a good fit for the boy.”

It was an eerily similar situation to what Manning had been through—and yet completely different. Manning had survived it the best he could’ve because of the family around him willing to help. I shook my head with disdain for the boy’s relatives. “What’d you tell Cheryl?”

“That we’re about to have a baby. That we’d never considered a kid that age. That we . . .” His jaw went taut. “It’s just not the right time.”

I didn’t realize I was rubbing my stomach until I noticed Manning tracking my hand. “Bad timing,” I murmured.

He went silent, staring at nothing on the ground. After a few seconds, he said, “I can’t help but think of my sister.”

Of course he couldn’t help it. It was the first place my mind had gone as well. It hurt him to say no, but how could we help? We were about to have our hands full. Could we even take care of a young boy who’d survived more by nine than most did in a lifetime?

Manning was that boy. He’d also seen, done, and lost more than one person should ever have to—all by the age of fifteen. I got the unsettling feeling that I’d been here before. Helpless to change the situation. Disappointed in people and the system. Scared for a boy’s future.

Only, I wasn’t helpless now. Not like I’d been at sixteen. “He defended his sister,” I said.

“I know. Caseworker said it doesn’t matter. His relatives are treating him like a murderer when he’d had no other choice.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same? If you’d known what your dad was doing to Maddy?”

His biceps tensed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. I didn’t need to hear his answer. I already knew what it was.

“He killed a grown man, Lake. We’ll have a newborn in the house. Kids who go through trauma at that age can be fucked up.”

“They can also turn out pretty great,” I said with a look.

Manning’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the counter, as if he were restraining himself. He was a protector, and he was also a good man. A champion for the underdog. I had no doubt he wanted to help, even though there were more than enough reasons not to. “I can tell you’ve given this a lot of thought,” I said.

“A lot.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What if my aunt hadn’t been there to help? Or Henry? I would’ve either gone to juvie or a group home, and who knows where I’d be today.”

I nodded. “Fate really has been on our side all along, Manning. Some things can never be explained, like your sister’s death, but we’re lucky.” I placed my hands on my stomach as our son moved. Perhaps he was listening, throwing his opinion into the ring. “And the more we’ve fought, the stronger we’ve become. As individuals, and as a couple.”

Manning came around the island and put his hands next to mine. “He’s moving.”

I nodded. “We have our baby and everything else we could ever ask for. And God knows we asked.”

“Begged,” he said with a faint smile.

I watched his expression closely. Despite the blissful look he wore whenever he felt the baby kick, Manning seemed suddenly tired, too—almost beaten down—for the first time since we’d found out we were pregnant. I supposed this sadness was what he’d been hiding from me on his late-night walks with Vega. Other than fatherhood, I tried to remember the last time Manning had wanted something. The last time he’d even asked me for anything. Besides the house and his business, he rarely did anything for himself.

He glanced up and caught me staring at him. “Lake,” he said.

“What is it, Great Bear?” I asked. “Can’t read your mind. You want something, you have to ask for it.”

“It’s not fair to you.” He spread his fingers on my tummy, brushing the tips of my middle fingers. “The next few months—years—are going to be chaos for us.”

“But?”

“But I can’t help feeling I’m turning my back on this kid, when I understand exactly what he’s going through.”

I waited for Manning to ask. This couldn’t be for me—everything else he did, he did for me. Once the baby was born, Manning would be working overtime for both of us. If he wanted to adopt a nine-year-old boy, he had to say it aloud. He had to need it.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Mateo. Mateo Alvarado.”

“Mateo,” I repeated. I formed a picture of him in my mind, a skinny, dark-haired kid weighed down by a gun. “Have you met him?”

He shook his head, removing his hands to cross his forearms over his chest. “I sent some things to Cheryl—boys’ clothes and toiletries, that kind of stuff. He didn’t even have a second pair of shoes. It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Would anything feel like enough?” I asked.

“Only the obvious.” He scrubbed his jaw, glancing out the window over the sink. He’d finished the stable long ago, but we’d shifted our focus right from dogs to babies and hadn’t talked about getting a horse in a long time. Too much to handle—and yet here we were, discussing a nine-year-old boy.

Nine was terribly young—Maddy’s age when she’d passed.

“What is it?” I prompted. “What’s the obvious solution?”

He turned back to me, his eyes narrowed in thought. He struggled with whatever was running through his mind. “I want to help. More than that,” he admitted. “I want to . . . meet him.”

Though I’d half-expected him to say it, it took my mind a moment to catch up. Manning and I could help financially from a distance. That meant there was really only one reason to meet Mateo. “And what if he’s a good kid? Like you were?” I asked. I tried to hide the emotion in my voice so Manning could make this decision on his own, but I suspected he saw through me. “What if he’s being punished for doing the right thing?”

He hesitated. “Then I’m not sure I can stand by and let it happen. If that means adoption, then I guess that’s what I want. Maybe it’s selfish of me to ask that of you with everything we have going on.”

I inhaled a deep breath. It was no small thing, what he was suggesting. I didn’t know the right response, if one even existed, but I couldn’t think of a time in recent history when Manning had been selfish. I’d tried to get him to be, actually, and he never was—which was how I knew this was important to him.

If I’d had the opportunity to save Manning years ago, either from his sister’s death or from his prison sentence, I wouldn’t have hesitated a moment. It was possible I wanted this, too—I wasn’t sure. But Manning had asked for it, and I at least owed him my support until we learned more.

He cinched his brows, watching me. “What are you thinking?”

I held his gaze a few moments, his brown eyes torn but full of love. I’d fought hard for that love, for a permanent spot next to him in the universe, and to complete our little triangle. But triangles weren’t the only shapes out there, not even in the sky. “I think we moved our stars, Manning,” I said. “Maybe now, we help rearrange someone else’s.”