I wished I had a camera to capture the look of horror on my husband’s face. I knew he was trying to suppress it so he didn’t hurt my feelings, but the creepy bear fear was too strong.

I was out of practice. I didn’t have to mask my emotions or guard my words. Thanks to my new husband, his found family, and some frustrating sessions with my new therapist—I really was the worst patient—I’d begun to heal. Relax. Let go.

And right then, I did that by throwing my head back and laughing so hard, I worried I would wake the baby.

“Smart-ass,” Ward said, though he did it smiling.

“I learned it from you.”

“What name were you really thinking?”

“Maeve.”

Ward looked at the sleeping bundle in his arms. After a long moment, he looked up with a big, dimpled grin. “Maeve. Perfection like her mama.”

With that decided, I picked up the pen and filled out the birth certificate info for the hospital while Ward put Maeve in the bassinet.

It’s official—Maeve Alice Garrison.

Once I was done, I barely set the pen down before Ward kissed me. Long, deep, and demanding—always demanding. But in a good way.

The best way.

He stroked my hair from my face. “You want me to tell everyone to actually leave?”

“No. It’s nice to have family around.”

“Tell me when you need a break.”

I wouldn’t need one—not from them—but I agreed anyway. “I will.”

“I mean it, Mac.”

“Whatever you say, neighbor.”

He walked from the room, muttering something about stubborn women.

Everyone came back in, promising it’d be a quick visit.

But I didn’t mind.

I was part of the laughter. Comradery.

Happiness.

And less than five minutes later, I was asleep.

* * *

Mac

Four Years Later

“We made too much food.”

My husband used his free hand to grab my ass. “We always make too much food.”

I pulled the foil off the smoked ribs. “But this is really too much.”

“We have a lot of friends.”

Not just Ward. Not just Ward and they tolerated me.

We had a lot of friends.

And thanks to the new house we’d built, we had enough room to have them all over.

Even though we’d moved right before Maeve was born, a piece of land opened up down the road from O and Judge’s new house. It’d been fate. Kismet. A wild coincidence.

I’d moved next door to my best friend.

Years later, we built a house and moved next door to our best friends.

Well, not right next door since the houses were separated by a couple dozen acres, but still. Kind of next door.