His expression and tone were neutral so he didn’t influence my choice. I knew I could’ve said yes, and he wouldn’t have pushed. He would’ve waited without complaint.

And that was why I told him the truth.

“I want you there.”

Not fighting our connection was one thing. Actively opening myself up and making myself feel vulnerable was another.

And Ward, unsurprisingly, seemed to get that. He didn’t make my admission into a big thing. Instead, he gave a firm nod, and his lips tipped in a cocky smirk. “Course you do. I’m damn good company.”

Shaking my head, I opened the door and stepped out. I held it open and leaned down to tell him the office number before adding, “And just so you know, I’m only allowing you to come so I can get two cupcakes.”

I closed the door, cutting off his laughter.

When I reached my doctor’s office, my angst was pushed down so I could focus on my pregnancy anxiety.

I was waiting to check in when an arm wrapped around my waist and a hand rested on my stomach.

“Unless you’re Ward, the payment is three cupcakes,” I said quietly.

“Thought the going rate was two.”

I tipped my head to look at him. “You get a discount.”

His eyes went hooded, but before he could say some filthy-sweet thing to charm me, it was my turn.

As I stepped up to the long reception desk, my stomach dropped.

I had to give my name. It wasn’t unusual for an aunt and niece to have different surnames, but still…

With a lot of practice, I forced my tone to be pleasant and normal. “Mac Davis.”

As the receptionist typed it in, I peeked over my shoulder.

If Ward was surprised I didn’t share a last name with my dearly departed aunt, he didn’t show it. Not a reflexive twitch. Not a raised brow. Nothing.

Guilt hit me yet again. I needed to talk to him and tell him the truth, but it’d have to wait. For then, I boxed it up, too, because I had more important things to focus on.

Like Squish.

Always Squish.

I’m gonna need to hire movers to handle all my baggage and compartmentalized boxes.

Oh wait. That’s literally my job.

When I’d studied to become a psychologist, I never thought I’d be my own worst patient.

But if the maternity pants fit…

I didn’t get to sit before a woman called my name. She looked from me to Ward. “Dad, you wait here while I get Mama all set. Once we’re ready, I’ll have you brought back.”

“Oh, he’s—” I started before Ward gripped my chin in that way that made my knees weak.

“You heard her, Mama.” He kissed me lightly. “See you in a few.”