She shakes her head. She’s wearing the same secretive, knowing smile Olivia is.

“We had a change of venue,” she replies.

My heart skips a beat. “Wait a second. Wait. Does Greyson have anything to do with this?”

Gracie makes a zipping motion across her lips. “I know nothing.”

“How about some music?” Olivia turns the knob on her Honda’s stereo. “Ah, Gucci Mane. This will get us in the baby shower mood.”

Eva shimmies beside Gracie in the backseat. “Hey, I’m a fan.”

We listen to “Freaky Gurl” as we make our way out of the city. Twenty minutes and many early 2000s R&B hits later, we cross onto Wadmalaw Island.

I smile.

I know exactly where we’re headed.

Grey definitely had a hand in this. I remember what he texted me the day we made up—that he was meeting with Luke at the barn to discuss something non-work related.

This had to have been it.

I smile harder. Things have been good with us. We moved in together about a month ago—I’m living at his place while we search for a new home together. He’s working a lot less, just like he promised. He’s home most nights and weekends, and has really stepped up to do his fair share of life and baby stuff. He cooks a lot, and helps clean up when I’m too tired or too sore to stand at the sink (the baby is putting a lot of pressure on my pelvic floor these days.) We show up to doctor’s appointments on time. He’s helped me pack my bag for the hospital, and together we’ve done way too much research on college savings accounts and co-sleeping and pediatricians. It’s a lot of work, but we dork out over it. That stuff can be kinda-sorta fun when you have someone to do it with.

Olivia takes a turn onto a familiar dirt driveway, and my pulse takes off at a sprint.

She pulls into the lot beside the Rodgers’ Farms barn. I see a familiar figure waiting beside the barn door.

Greyson breaks out in a smile when he sees us. He hustles over to the car and opens my door, helping me out.

I’m grinning ear to ear.

“Don’t you look gorgeous,” he says, a familiar spark of heat igniting in his eyes as he takes in my floral dress and sandals.

I’m getting huge—thirty-four weeks yesterday—so my wardrobe options were limited. I’m big and unwieldy, but Greyson still manages to make me feel sexy.

“No tuxedo dick pants this time?” I say.

He ducks his head to plant a quick kiss on my mouth. “Saving that for later. I think my mom might faint if, you know, she saw it. Them. The whole thing.”

“Right. Good call.” I glance at the barn. “So this was your idea, huh?”

Grey nods. “I wanted to show off your work, for starters. Let all your friends see just how amazingly talented you are. I also wanted to be involved. And yeah, maybe I’m getting sentimental in my old age. Seemed right to host your shower where our story—yours, mine, and Charlie Brown’s—began.”